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ccsainzleclerc5516 · 2 months

Text

Playing with his nerves

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader (y/n)

Warnings: once again..SMUT!!!

The door closes behind you as you enter the apartment carrying the PR package that the delivery man just brought to you. You pass through the living room with it where Charles was casually lying on the couch watching TV and enjoying his time off.

"What's that?" He asks stopping you.

"Oh, just some PR package that I got." You nonchalantly say hoping he won't drop the subject.

"For promotion?"

"Mhm." You mutter nodding your head.

"Well, what's in there?"

"Just some lingerie" You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling before you quickly disappear into your bedroom.

"What-? Some what?" It's like your words jolt him and he immediately gets up from the couch and follows after you. "Y/n?" But by the time he reaches the bedroom, you already locked yourself in the bathroom stripping the clothes you were in down and putting on the new set.

"Y/n, open the door" He says banging on the bathroom door.

"In a minute!" Putting your hand over your mouth so that he doesn't hear you laughing, it takes everything in you to pull yourself together and to proceed with the plan you came up with.

Although it was true, they really sent you a two-piece set of red lace lingerie. You didn't really mean to show yourself in that to the whole world, but you wanted play with Charles for a bit and to spice things up knowing that he would go crazy over it.

"You're going to promote lingerie? Take pictures of yourself in it? I hope I got it wrong, y/n." You can already feel the anger building up in his voice, and he hasn't even seen you yet.

Charles sits on the armchair nervously tapping his foot up and down impatiently waiting for you. Minutes later you unlock the door showing yourself in a two piece red sheer set leaning against the door frame and arching your back.

"Oh fuck me.." He sighs under his breath running his fingers through his curls. His brows were furrowed and lips slightly parted at the sight of you.

"What do you think? Looks good? You think it fits me?" You ask provocatively moving closer to him swaying your hips, his gaze never leaving your body. That red sheer lace bra and panties fit you perfectly, hugging your body in all the right places it looked like it was custom made for you.

"I think it looks pretty good. You can help me take the pictures in it if you want to." You slowly straddled him sitting in his lap. He laid back into the armchair admiring you up and down as you positioned yourself on his crotch that was growing by the second. You wrap your arms around his neck and teasingly slow start to rock back and forth against him.

"I think everyone's jaws will drop when they see me in this, no?" He was speechless, all you could hear from him was his heavy breathing. You had all the control over him, but that didn't last for long.

"Ahh" You hiss as his hands find your waist, his fingertips leaving white prints on your skin from how tightly he gripped it.

You could feel his temperature rising with every word that left your mouth. His gaze was angry, but full of lust for you. You knew exactly what you were doing. Getting him mad hard, you knew how to do it best.

"You don't know what you just got yourself into. You better stop talking now." It feels like forever since he said anything. He makes you wrap your legs around him as he stands up with you and walks you over to the bed roughly throwing you down.

"You really think I'd let you post a picture of yourself wearing this?" He asked as he took off his t-shirt and pants tossing them to the side before hovering over you. "Cause if you do, fuck baby, then you're even crazier than I am." He attaches his lips to your neck sucking on it, then slowly starts making his way down your body leaving sloppy wet kisses all the way down to your panties.

"You think you can forbid me things?" You dare to ask.

And he could. You knew he could, there was no arguing about that. You just wanted to push his buttons.

"Oh, just watch me." He chuckles pushing the sheer material aside gliding his fingers over your wet pussy. You grip the sheets as his long fingers enter you pumping in and out making you buck your hips up begging for more.

"Charles.."

"Look at you. Already clenching around my fingers, and I haven't even fucked you yet." The pace of his fingers quickened while his other hand grabbed your butt. You were a whimpering mess beneath him. You loved it when he took control, it turned you on, he could make you cum just by his words.

You felt yourself getting closer and just when you wanted to cum all over his fingers, of course, he pulled them out you bringing them closer to his lips and licking them clean.

"So sweet"

"No.." You cry out squinting your eyes. He doesn't give you time to complain but quickly turns you over so that your butt is on full display for him. He collects your hair into a ponytail pulling on it and grinding his hard cock against your butt as you arch your back for him.

"I can't wait to shove my dick inside you. It's so fucking hard. You feel it? I'm gonna ruin you for being such a brat." He groans into your ear. You try to grind your hips against the mattress to get any kind of the friction to your throbbing clit.

"Please, Charles, please" You sounded pathetic. You don't remember the last time you needed him as much as you do now. You don't know what you just got yourself into. You remember the words.

He did warn you tho.

" I'm sorry I can't hear you over all the noise you're making. You want me to fuck you? Hm?" You don't even have to turn around to know that he had a smug smirk on his face watching you struggle like this.

"Oh fuck" You wince at harsh spanks across your ass that echoed through the room.

"Red prints of my hand on your ass look too good with this set. They match the shade you know? You wanna show them how you're taking me like a big girl?" He growls. He was getting impatient to bury himself deep inside you.

The sight of you lying so helpless and moaning his name was driving him crazy so he turned you over on your back again and without any hesitation he thrust into you. You were drenching him, he could literally hear how wet you were from slapping of your skin. Gasping into each others mouth both of you drunk off of pleasure, he wrapped his hand around your neck.

"You look so good like this. When you're struggling to breathe underneath me, fuck, it makes me go wild. You like it when I fuck you hard don't you?" He asks and you nod digging your nails into the skin on his back.

"You could've just asked me then, you don't have to play with my nerves every damn time" He says through gritted teeth, clenching his jaw. The smirk on your face outrages him.

"Oh you think that's funny?" He asks slamming into you as hard and as far as it goes hitting your deepest spot making you wince in pain.

"Fuck Charles, it hurts" You cry out and regret provoking him in a heartbeat.

"Then better start behaving." His movements were slowly starting to get sloppier, holding back and waiting for you was getting too difficult. Both of you were panting, moans escaping your lips, beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. "I'd love to finish inside you like every night, fuck, but since you wanna promote this, I'll just have to cum all over that red bra and panties you know?"

Your breath was hitching with his every thrust, your walls starting to clench as you creamed all around him. Him hearing you scream out his name and seeing your eyes roll back sent him over the edge and he quickly pulled out of you cumming all over you just like he promised to.

"Fuuuckk ahh.." He was growling out loud while jerking himself off watching his cum spray all over. "You can take pictures now before you hand that set over to me."

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g3tosugu · 4 months

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their reactions to you showing up with an injury

wriothesley, neuvillette, baizhu, alhaitham, xiao x f!reader

cw: mentions of blood and injuries (nothing terribly graphic), weapons, fighting, mentions of kidnapping. please let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: i will admit xiao's is not in keeping with the prompt bc you dont really "show up" injured but this is my post and i can do as i please teehee :3c

Wriothesley

As you carefully make your way down through the Fortress of Meropide, you keep your guard up. The wound that you sustained is causing a searing pain to spread across your side. Once you make it through the doors to Wriothesley's office, you finally collapse to your knees. "Is someone there?" you hear Wriothesley's voice ring out from upstairs. "It's just me" you respond in a much weaker voice than you anticipated. You really had spent all of your energy. You force yourself to your feet and begin the daunting ascension up the stairs. Once you reach the top, you see him sitting at his desk, eyes glued to a document in front of him. Before you can even say anything, you're falling to your knees again.

"Y/n?!" Wriothesley immediately jumps out of his chair and runs over to your side. "Archon, what happened to you? Let me go notify someone to get Miss Sigewinne" he started towards the stairs behind you. "No!" you stop him, "Please just...don't bother her with this". "Sweetheart, don't be ridiculous. Do you know how she would feel if she heard you say that?" he returns back to your side and kneels down to check you over. His eyes snap immediately to the red splotch on your right side.

"You're bleeding. We need to get you to the infirmary now-"

"Sigewinne told me there was a group of individuals she overheard saying mean things about her while she was visiting the surface. She confided in me and I comforted her to reassure her that they are foolish and don't know what they are talking about" you explain. Wriothesley stares at you as his brain connects the dots.

"Y/n-"

"Don't say it. I know. I had never seen Sigewinne so saddened before. It pained me to see her feel so down about herself over the words of some random mean spirited people. I don't want her to know I went looking for them and got hurt. It would only make her feel worse".

Wriothesley looks at you with sympathy in his eyes, "I can't say I wouldn't have had similar instincts. I’m just surprised you were stupid enough to act on them". "Thanks" you roll your eyes and try to rise to your feet again. He's quick to assist you and help you move to the couch. "I'll be right back. I'm going to get some supplies" he quickly disappears.

When he returns, he begins tending to your wounds. Once he sees the cut on your side, scrapes on your arms, the scrape on your cheek and the dried blood on your hands, he feels his body heat with anger. "I'm not the one who wanted to fight. I just wanted to tell them off. There was one guy that got physical first" you start explaining how it happened. That alone just made him angrier. He clenches his jaw and bites his tongue to allow you to keep speaking. "He told me to mind my business and that he didn't even know who I was until I told him. That's when he realized that..." you trail off. Wriothesley's eyes look up from your wound for a moment. "His brother is a prisoner here at the fortress. He told me that you had his sentence increased after there was an altercation between him and another prisoner" you admit.

"That has nothing to do with you though" he finishes bandaging your wound. He hands you one of his black button down shirts to wear since your own clothing was ruined. As you button the shirt, he searches your face. "You're not telling me something" he puts a hand on his hip. "Why would he get you involved in something that’s between me and him?" he questions. "It's not about me being involved with what happened. It's that he knows we’re together" you play with the hem of the shirt. His arms drop to his side, "He attacked you as a means of hurting me?". You nod and sigh in response. He sits down next to you and throws an arm around you to pull you into his side. You feel him press a kiss to the top of your head and you notice the fist in his lap that is curled into a tight fist.

"Please, tell me the name of this gentleman. Because I'll be damned if I let him hurt my girl without punishment".

Neuvillette

It was your own fault for getting curious about this cavern you had found out on one of your adventure guild commissions. Now, here you are limping to the Palais Mermonia. It's later in the evening so there are hardly any people out. There was a Melusine who noticed you were injured but you told her you were going to see the Chief Justice and that he would take care of you.

You walk through the doors of Neuvillette's office and he immediately turns to face you, ignoring the document he was just glancing over. When he notices the limp in your walk he is quick to come to your aid. "You're injured? Please, allow me" he scoops you off your feet and carries you over to the sofa. When you're sitting comfortably, he kneels to the ground to examine your ankle.

"It appears it's just twisted. Best you keep off of it as much as possible for the time being" he sighs in relief. When he stands back up and looks down at you, that's when he notices the cut you have on your cheek as well. He disappears without saying a word and returns with a cloth and a bottle of some sort of clear liquid. He sits next to you and puts some of the liquid on the cloth before gently applying it to your cut. You wince at the sting for a moment and he stops, "This is just to prevent it from getting infected. I apologize if it is painful" he continues to gently dab at the injury. "I do wish you would be more careful when you're out doing your tasks" he softly lectures you. "I know" you nod, "I'm sorry". "You need not apologize to me, my dear. I am just simply voicing my concern for you" he places the bottle of liquid and cloth on the table.

"I don't want you to worry about me" you reach over and brush some of the hair from his face. As your hand falls away, he grabs your fingertips in his hand and places a soft kiss to the back of your own. "I know you don't. I don't necessarily want to worry so often either" he admits and holds your hand in between both of his and places it in his lap. "Do you ever wish I worked here at the Palais with you instead of with the Adventurer’s Guild?" you ask. "Hmm" he thinks about your question for a moment. "My initial answer would be yes. But I'm afraid it's just for my own selfish reasons so they carry no relevance" he soothingly rubs your hand.

You place your other hand on top of his, "If I didn't want your honest thoughts I wouldn't have asked. So please be open with me, my love" you cup his cheek. He leans into your touch and sighs. "I would prefer if you worked at the Palais so I could keep a better eye on you, yes. Knowing you are away and willingly putting yourself in danger does fill me with a sense of anxiety. It's strange. In all my years of living amongst humans I've never known what it would be like to feel such strong attachments to one" he goes on. Your heart leaps at his earnest confession. "I will consider your words. I'd be lying if I didn't say I wanted to be in your presence more often. Either way I think we work well together and I wouldn't be opposed to working in a less physically demanding environment" you give him some hope. "My dear, you don't need to meet my wishes so easily. Please give it some more consideration before making any definitive decisions" he leans over and kisses your forehead.

"It is my duty to protect the people of Fontaine but it is my privilege to be your companion".

Baizhu

It's embarrassing really. Qiqi had encountered an issue at the pharmacy this morning when someone requested some Qingxin and for some reason there were none in stock. "Oh, um, I'm sorry...It appears we are completely out of Qingxin" she apologized to the customer. You could see how truly distraught she was at the situation so you went out on your own to retrieve some Qingxin. How were you supposed to know it was going to start raining and you would slip and fall in the mud?

When you hit the ground, the arm you had out to brace yourself with made contact with a jagged piece of stone. After washing the wound with water from a nearby stream, you tried your best to get some of the earth off your clothing. Then, you were on your way. Unfortunately, the ten Qingxin you were able to collect turned into four after your fall. They had not only been completely ruined by the mud but a couple had landed underneath you, effectively being crushed under your weight.

You brace yourself for the lecture you are more than likely going to receive from Baizhu. Walking into his home, you see him sitting in a chair looking at a book of some sort. His eyes look up from the book so he can greet you and he sees the poor state you are in. "What in Teyvat happened, my love?" he rises to his feet and places his book on the table. "Well...I was getting Qingxin because Qiqi said we didn't have any at the pharmacy and then it started raining" you take off your coat and wince at the pain in your arm. His eyes widen, "Let's get you cleaned up and then I will get started on tending to your injuries".

One quick shower and a set of fresh loungewear later, you are sitting on the couch as Baizhu tends to you. "You really should be more careful. I would hate for something truly awful to happen to you and I can't be there to aid you" he sighs as he carefully works on finishing the stitches for your arm. The rock apparently ended up cutting you deeper than you had originally thought. "I just didn't want Qiqi to be upset" you look at the ground. His eyes look up from your arm for a moment to look at your face. The genuine disappointment in your own eyes makes his heart sink.

"It was very kind of you to go out of your way to help her. I'm sure you know it also means a great deal to me that you care for her so deeply" he starts wrapping your arm in a bandage. You look over at him with a gentle smile. "She always tries her best despite her own circumstances. In a way, I'm almost envious of her" you admit. Baizhu grabs your legs and places them over his lap. He lifts the material of your lounge pants up your legs and his hands begin to knead at the flesh of your legs to soothe your aching muscles. "You know she wouldn't want you to put yourself in any imminent danger just for her sake, yes?" he inquires. You nod in response and look down in shame.

"I don't mean to make you feel bad. That is never my intention. I just wish you cared for yourself the way you care for others" he slides the legs of your lounge pants back down as he finishes massaging your muscles. "I'll work on it" you smile apologetically at him. He smiles warmly in response before pulling you onto his lap. You snake your arms around his neck and he wraps his arms around your waist. His hair is freed from its usual styling and is freshly combed through. You tuck some of his hair behind his ear. A soft hum emits from his throat as he turns his head to kiss your wrist, prompting you to keep your hand near. The gesture warms your heart and you gently cup his cheek in your hand.

"Who needs Qingxin when I've got the most valuable and healing flower in all of Teyvat, right here at my fingertips".

Alhaitham

The last thing you expected was to get ambushed by a bunch of eremites just outside of Sumeru City. It was a five man group of former associates of Ayn Al-Ahmar. The plan was to kidnap you and hold you hostage as a means of getting Alhaitham to fall into a trap they would have preemptively set up. Fortunately for you, Dehya was near the entrance of Sumeru City when she heard you trying to fight off the group of men in the distance and noticed a flash of a vision ability from where she stood. When she got there, you were clearly already visibly spent. There was still one man in a standoff with you.

In your moment of weakness, you stumble forward and before you could even react, the man darts towards you and attempts to sink his dagger into your abdomen. You quickly try to defend yourself and manage to grab his wrist. Even though you have your grip on him, he uses as much strength as he can and you can feel the tip of the blade pierce your skin. You grunt and grind your teeth as you desperately use the strength you no longer have to fight him off. Dehya quickly takes action and subdues the man before he has the chance to overpower you. Now that you can finally put your guard down, you place your hand where the dagger had got you. The blood that appears on your hands as you pull your palm away makes you queasy and dizzy. "Y/n? Hey! Y/n!" you hear Dehya call out to you and see her run toward you. But it's no use. You fall to the ground unconscious.

When you awake, you look around you and notice you are in Alhaitham's living room. "You're awake" you hear Alhaitham say at your side. You turn your head and he's sitting on the loveseat across from the one you are on. As you go to sit up you are immediately met with a burning pain in your side. "Hey, easy. Don't move too much" he comes to your side and gently pushes you back down onto your back. "I had Tighnari drop off some incense to help relax your body and hopefully speed along the healing process" he explains as he carefully adjusts the pillow underneath your head and sits down on the edge of the loveseat. You look up at the ceiling, "How did I even get here?".

He sighs, "Dehya brought you. I sent Kaveh out to get some first aid supplies". "They did this because of me didn't they?" he gently places his hand over where you were stabbed. "Don't do that Alhaitham" you grab his hand with your own. "I'm not saying I claim responsibility for what happened. I just don't think it's worth being in a relationship with me" he admits wholeheartedly, but not in a self pitying way. If anything he pities the fact that you ended up in this position due to something that was beyond your control. "It's not going to take a fight with a bunch of guys, who have nothing better to do, to make me just walk away from this" you squeeze his hand.

"This?" he looks down at you. "What? I think what we have together is much more precious to me than you may realize" you search his eyes for an inkling of what he may currently be thinking. A gentle smile appears on his face. "You mean everything to me. I mean it" he brushes a small strand of hair away from your face. You feel the weight of the loveseat shift underneath you as Alhaitham leans down and places a tender kiss to your lips. Your hand reaches up to the back of his head to pull him deeper into the kiss.

"Okay! I'm back with-" Kaveh suddenly walks into the house. Alhaitham immediately removes himself from you with a grunt. "You just couldn't wait at least five more minutes before barging in here?" he complains. Kaveh places the items he was asked to retrieve on the table. "Oh, well excuse me for trying to gather the items that are supposed to help her feel better" he barks. Alhaitham just glares at him with his eyes narrowed. "Okay, fine! I get it. I'll leave you to suck face with your girlfriend" he disappears into his room with a huff.

"He's just jealous he's not the one out here that gets to kiss you the way I get to".

Xiao

Yep, you are definitely lost. All you were tasked with was going to Liyue Harbor to get some produce for Wangshu Inn. At some point down the line in your route, you came across a group of monsters and in an attempt to avoid them you went another way. Unfortunately the way you went instead ended up leading you down a path you were unfamiliar with.

A rustle in the bushes to your left startles you, causing you to trip over your feet and fall to the ground. The produce you had gathered from Liyue Harbor is now scattered on the ground all around you. As you lift your arm to start gathering the items back together, you wince and notice a pretty deep cut. You grit your teeth and try to ignore it. The rustling in the bushes startles you once again except this time, a wild boar is charging out towards you. It knocks into you and you go to take a step back to catch yourself but you fail to notice the drop off of the cliff. You slip and fall but somehow manage to catch yourself on a piece of foliage growing out of the side of the cliff edge. The arm you are forced to use to hold yourself up is the arm with the cut. Pain sears through your arm and you feel your grip slipping. Before you can catch yourself, the anchor you once held onto slips through your fingers. You are now free falling.

Your mind is filled with thoughts of Xiao and the moment you shared before you left Wangshu Inn for Liyue Harbor. He told you to be safe and call his name if you ran into trouble and you gave him a kiss on the cheek before reassuring you would be safe. "Adeptus Xiao!" you shout up at the sky as you force your eyes shut. Within an instant you feel a pair of arms around you and in the blink of an eye you are safely on the ground. You fall to your knees as your legs give out under you from the panic that continues coursing through your body.

Xiao kneels down in front of you and places a hand on your cheek. "Hey, it's okay. You're safe now" he speaks low and soft. You look at him and start to steady your breathing. "I-" you stutter, "I am sorry for being so careless". "Shh" he shushes you, "I'm just relieved you're alright". He checks you over and notices the cut on your arm and his face hardens. "We need to get you back to Wangshu Inn. Please take my hand?" he holds his hand out for you to take and you of course oblige. And almost as quickly as you take his hand in yours, you are back at Wangshu Inn.

He leads you over to his bed and has you sit down. "I'll be right back to dress your wound" he swiftly exits. When he comes back he begins cleaning your wound with a rag and starts applying an ointment of some sort. "It's supposed to speed up the healing process" he notices you looking at it with curious eyes. As he bandages your arm you study his face. "Why are you looking at me?" he tries to fight back a grin. "Just thinking about how lucky I am to have you. Adeptus Xiao" you smile fondly at him. His eyes snap up to yours and you can almost feel a pull between the two of you. You both subconsciously lean toward each other until you are just centimeters away from each other's faces. Your breaths tangle together between the two of you as he presses his forehead against yours. His hand reaches for the side of your head and he presses his lips against yours.

The kiss is almost urgent. Like you don't have much time left together. Your hand lifts to wrap around the wrist of his hand that gently cradles the side of your head. When your lips part, your foreheads press together again. "You should get some sleep. It will help you heal faster" he removes his hand from your head. As you get comfortable in the bed, he crawls in beside you and holds you against his chest. "Why did you wait until after you fell to call for me?" he asks. "What?" you feign ignorance. "The marks on your hand" he grabs your hand in his and opens your palm to reveal small cuts that you obtained when your grip slipped. "I thought I could save myself" you sigh in disappointment. He kisses your forehead and tucks your head under his chin.

"I know that you are more than capable of saving yourself. But don't ever forget it is always my honor to save you. There aren't many things I hold close to me in this existence. But you are the most precious thing I will always hold close".

#genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley x reader #neuvillete x reader #neuvillette fluff #baizhu x reader #baizhu fluff #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham fluff

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notjoelmiller · 1 month

Text

i cared

MDNI simon "ghost" riley x f!reader summary: three and a half years ago and an ocean away, he tore you apart. now he's turned up at your door. wordcount: 4.1k warnings: smut (fingering), drinking, AFAB reader, possible past dub-con (reader was in a bad mental state and simon knew), simon is a shitty guy in this, talk of hypothetical suicide, talk of past bad mental state (depression), mentioned PTSD, heartbreak on both sides, death mention (MW:III canon) a/n: hey remember when i said that my next fic would be joel and i posted a little insert. that was a lie! instead of working on that (12k word, currently) monster, i wrote something else. if you couldn't tell, i started this before the holidays and then forgot about it.

ao3

The house is much nicer than Simon anticipated. When he saw the New York City address, he had expected you to be crammed into a shitty 6th-floor walk-up. But no, not you. Instead, you have an honest-to-God three-story home with red brick delicately dusted with snow. You certainly couldn’t afford it on the 141 salary. He always suspected you came from means. This just confirms it. It just makes him wonder why the hell you decided to slum it in the services for so long.

It reminds Simon that he shouldn’t be there. You weren't made for that life and left for a reason. Who is he to ruin your peace?

He’s not alone on the street. Well-to-do families of strangers pass by, all watching the masked man observe their neighbor’s home. He can still turn around and leave you to the life you so clearly want.

Something shifts in one of the windows, the curtain being tousled by something. A dog. You got a dog– a golden retriever with sharp eyes and, evidently, an even sharper bark. The canine goes berserk, barking and howling and growling at Simon through the window. It’s Simon’s cue to leave, to leave you be with your semi-rabid, semi-domestic canine.

But before he can move, the curtain shifts again– pulled this time –and you’re there. You squint for a moment, surely wondering what masked freak is standing in your walkway like he owns the damn place. He lets you scrutinize him. It’s now or never. Either you’ll tell him to fuck off once you realize who he is or you’ll call the police on him, though it’s not like they would do anything after he calls Kate.

Instead, you disappear behind the curtain, your loyal steed of a dog following hot on your heels. In a moment’s notice, the large front door, with a gilded knocker and door knob open. You beckon him in. He follows, eyes trailing up and down your body once you’re facing away from him. You’re dressed casually but smartly in a short denim skirt and cashmere sweater. Simon’s never seen you in that getup before, even when going out to the pub.

“Shoes off,” you order, motioning towards the neat shoe rack next to the door. They’re all women's shoes of the same size. Simon’s shoulders relax, and he slips off his boots. It was for the best, he figures. His old boots would have just dragged dirt into your space. He takes off his mask too, hanging it up with his jacket. It’s nothing you haven't seen before.

Simon follows you into the sitting room– at least, that’s what Simon guesses the room is. It’s too neat for your taste, or his memory of what your taste is exactly. The couch and single chair seem untouched, the air still, like Simon’s presence is cutting through some sacred stillness.

You point to a couch and Simon obeys, sitting with his hands on his knees. Your eyes lock with his without granting him any semblance of your thoughts. Simon keeps his gaze soft, neutral. You can scrutinize him all you need.

You sigh, straightening your posture. A smile pulls at your lips. Your smile lines crease deeper than he remembered. Or maybe they always creased that deep.

“Tea?”

***

“He’s quite protective,” you drop two sugar cubes into a cup of tea. The spoon in your hand lets out a delicate tink as it hits the porcelain cup. You hand Simon the teacup, it’s just how he likes it. “Always has his haunches raised, even when he’s not working.”

Ah. A service animal. He’s surprised to not have put that together sooner. Always loyal, the pooch plants himself at your feet, gaze burning into Simon. If looks could kill…

“Your home?” Simon asks. He lifts the teacup to his lips and sips. Simon places the teacup on its saucer impossibly slowly. Simon can’t believe you’d trust him with something so delicate.

“I inherited it.”

A smile creeps on Simon’s face. Teacups and generational wealth. He always knew you were posh. Or whatever Americans call posh.

“You’re on holiday?” You ask.

“‘Tis the season.”

You hum. Your house is the only one on the block without some sort of holiday decor. Simon wonders if it was a pointed decision.

“And you came here.” Why?

He can’t tell you the truth. The fact is that every day since you left– all one thousand two hundred ninety-eight of them since John uttered to his fuming lieutenant that you just weren’t fit to serve any more –he’s ached. One thousand two hundred ninety-eight days of no contact. Of his only proof that you ever existed being a photo and a tear-stained note with one sentence scribbled in ink: John has contact info– emergencies only.

“I wanted to wish you a happy holidays.”

You laugh dryly, though it sends a pang of pain through Simon. He hadn’t realized how much he missed that sound. “Usually people send a card for that.”

You observe Simon with precision, like you never left the force, though the way you scratch Yogi’s belly unconsciously betrays the hardened exterior. It’s a glimpse into the last three and a half years. Of the woman you’ve become– so foreign to Simon. Foreign to your past self. Or not. Maybe this is who you’ve been all along, just hidden behind fatigues. Maybe the woman Simon thought he knew was just a farce. Rich girl playing army for a few years.

Maybe you joined the force just to fuck around for a bit. After a few years, you’d have stories to tell your socialite friends back home. Except, you didn’t get what you wanted, didn’t you? Simon knows well and good that serving, the 141, and him, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, destroyed something in you.

You tap the porcelain of your teacup. It makes a pleasant ding. “Did John tell you where to find me?”

“No. Well–” Simon tries to tell you the truth without throwing his comrade under the bus. The truth was, John had indulged in one too many drinks at the pub one night and hadn’t locked his quarters. An envelope addressed to you sat front in center on his desk. “Not intentionally.”

It’s a satisfying enough answer. Only a small twinge of annoyance crosses your face before you hum. “This isn’t a guilt thing, right Simon?” You ask, “I didn’t do what I did because of what happened.”

“What we did back then, on the field,” Simon traps you under his gaze. His stare is aggressive, but he hopes it conveys the intense feelings he’s struggling with. “I can’t just leave it. That’s why I came.”

Simon doesn’t dare speak. He doesn’t dare breathe while he watches you process his words. It’s a load of crap, he knows it, and he knows you know it. It’s just a matter of whether or not you want to kick him out.

You smize, teeth coming out to tug at your bottom lip. “Have you ever had New York pizza?”

***

You order two pies, hushing Simon when he insists it’s too much. You were right. Two isn’t enough. Simon scarfs down one pie without coming up for air. It’s delicious. It isn’t until he’s four slices deep that he realizes that you, smiling widely at him, haven’t yet picked up your first.

You’re a gracious host– a natural, really. You perch yourself on the kitchen island, legs crossed in a way that makes your skirt ride so sinfully up your thighs. Simon doesn’t look of course, he’s a gentleman. At least, he is for the first bottle of the ungodly expensive red wine you procure. It’s then that you perch your leg on the counter opposite your spot on the island, right next to Simon. Old habits die hard– especially when inebriated –and Simon places a hand on your leg, massaging the skin of your ankle.

You pay no mind to Simon’s ministrations, though, lost in the domestic bliss and mindless conversations you’ve probably been drowning yourself in for the last few years. You wave the glass of wine wildly about, like you wouldn’t give a damn if it spilled all over your expensive clothes. It seems so natural for you. Simon wonders what you were ever doing with the 141 when posh city living fits you like a second skin.

Simon inches his hand higher up your leg as you speak. He doesn’t get very far, but it’s enough so that he can trace patterns into the soft skin of your thigh. It’s too much, though, because your eyes lock onto his. But you’re not mad. You don’t tell him to stop. Rather, you examine him, and in your eyes Simon sees what looks like mirth.

“I missed this,” Simon says. He cringes at the words leaving his mouth. He’s succumbing to the domestic bliss you’ve created, looking at the past through rose-tinted glasses.

You reach for a third bottle of wine and a corkscrew, furrowing your brow in thought while twisting the screw. “I didn't want to abandon you,” you say. Simon, watching you pop the cork off with ease, almost forgets that you’re talking to him until you lock eyes. He watches you sniff the cork, pause, then sniff it again before topping off your glass. You take a heaping swig, like that Pinot Noir worth more than Simon’s monthly pay is unremarkable. “I left for a reason, you know.”

Oh, Simon certainly knows. The rumors had been inescapable in the first weeks of your absence. All around base every soldier had entertained the question of what happened to the American chick in the 141. Simon had only so many threatening looks to give privates before curiosity got the better of him. He abated the desire to ask John for so long, but there was only so much longing he could handle coupled with the cacophony of voices asking the same thing he desperately wanted to know.

John didn’t flounder when Simon finally came to him, demanding to know why you left.

She was discharged.

Why?

For… mental reasons.

Simon lost his shit in Price’s office that morning. He collapsed onto the couch with a gasp, a hand grasping and squeezing his heart. His breath left him, but Simon was too bloody stupid to understand what the hell was going on until Price was handing him a brown paper bag.

Breathe, son.

“Simon,” you breathe, your saccharine voice the most tantalizing sound Simon has ever heard. You lean forward, your finger tracing the scar parallel to the cut of his jaw. You were there for it, saw the knife slice through his mask and the skin underneath. You bandaged it in the helicopter after, making Simon promise to go to medical afterwards. He promised he would. That night he closed the wound with superglue. “Why did you really come?”

Because you disappeared. Because Price said you were on the brink of becoming a statistic. Because I fucked up. Because I said things I didn’t mean and I thought that it killed you.

“Johnny’s dead,” he lies. But it isn’t a lie. It’s true, sure, Johnny’s been reduced to ashes and scattered in the Scottish highlands. But that isn't why he came.

“I know.” You sniffle. Christ, Simon’s made you cry. Nausea washes over him. A voice in his head screams, fix it, idiot! But emotions were never Simon’s strong suit. Instead, Simon reaches for the bottle and tops off your glass of wine, probably a bit more than he should have, but it seems like you need it.

You mutter a thank you and down a bit more than half of the glass. You come up for air and hiccup. “John told me.”

“Price?” He asks, as though there was any other John. Anything to get you talking rather than crying.

You nod. “He dropped by around Thanksgiving. Asked if I wanted to be there when you all…” You wave your hand in the air, “You know.”

Something ugly festers in his chest. Maybe if he actually went to a therapist, Simon could recognize what it is.

“You said no?” He asks.

“I didn’t think I could.”

Simon nods, holding your gaze in a way that he hopes conveys his sense of understanding.

“How’d it happen?” You croak. Your eyes are glassy, a reminder of the ever-looming threat that you could fall apart again. Simon reminds himself that you wouldn’t be crying if he had just kept his distance.

“Bullet in the head.”

You tense, your head flying to Simon. Your eyes are frantic, searching for something in his face. “He…he…?”

Christ.

“No, no,” Simon scrambles to get his next words out, “Makarov. It was-” His voice cracks. Unusual. “-was too fast to stop it. To save himself.”

You hum, slumping down like it’s comforting to you that Johnny had his life torn from his arms. Like it’s comforting that Johnny couldn’t go on his own terms, but on the terms of a Russian terrorist.

“You know,” you say like you know he knows, “Johnny’s the reason I got out.”

Simon shifts. Johnny never talked about your discharge, always responding to speculation like he was none the wiser. “He is?”

“Yeah,” you laugh. It’s deep and watery. “Things were…bad one night. He found me. Talked me through the night. Listened to me.” You throw your head back, eyes tracing imaginary patterns on the ceiling.

“He told Price?”

You nod.

“That was after we…”

You nod again. Simon feels sick.

“It had nothing to do with you, Simon.”

“I never thought it did.”

“Then why,” you ask, “did you bring it up?”

Simon shifts. “Thought it was relevant.”

You smile, though your eyes are still lined with tears. “Guilty conscience?”

“Of course not, love,” Simon laughs, hoping you buy it. It works, he thinks. You seem to deflate, slumping a bit. You take some time to think. Simon, panicking at the thought that your self-reflection could send him out the door, pulls out the one trick he has over you.

He lets your legs fall. They bang against the cabinets with a soft umph from your lips. Simon slides off of the counter and stalks your way. You watch him and put up no fight as he slots his wide body between your knees. You don't even complain as the parting of your legs forces your skirt to ride even higher.

Fingers card through Simon’s hair. He hums.

“Why did you do it?” You ask.

Simon tilts his head, and with the wine in his veins and your hand in his hair, the world spins. Your other hand slips under the hem of Simon’s shirt. Warm fingers graze the skin of his stomach and then side, before your hand settles on his back, palm splaying across scarred flesh.

“I–” Simon croaks, “–I felt something for you.”

You snort. Simon’s chest burns and he takes some deep breaths to calm himself. He imagines Price’s paper bag, inflating and crinkling over and over.

“You knew I would leave. That’s it, isn’t it?” You accuse with a gleam in your eyes. “I was in a bad place and was leaving so it didn’t matter if you hit it and quit it.” You laugh. “You got what you wanted without risking your position.”

“That’s not true.”

Your thighs bracket his legs, trapping him against you. Your words curl around your wine-stained tongue. “‘I don’t love you’. Isn’t that what you said Simon?”

“Love–”

You tense, thighs squeezing him like a vice. “Love,” you coo, the imitation of Simon’s long vowels curtles unnaturally on your tongue. “Love, love, love. You know Simon,” you wrap your hands around the back of his neck and lean into the crook of his neck. Your lips brush against his skin as you speak, “You say it, but you’ve never meant it.”

“I’m sorry,” Simon utters, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your skirt.

“You’re not.”

He’s not. He doesn’t argue. He could– should, rather –but he can’t think straight with you this close to him. The scent of your perfume itches the deepest part of his brain. You never wore perfume when on duty, rather, always coated in the aroma of base-issued shampoo and sweat.

“I really cared for you, you know,” you whisper, your lips millimeters from his, them parting when his fingers rub you through the fabric of your underwear.

“I know,” Simon closes the distance, capturing your lips with his.

He pushes you back onto the counter, you let him, lets Simon cage your body like he has the right to. You groan into his mouth when he traps your bottom lip between his teeth and melt when his fingers slip past the hem of your panties, his fingers plunging through the wetness into your cunt.

It’s obscene— the noises you make as he thrusts his fingers into you. With his free hand, Simon pushes your skirt up over your hips so he can watch your cunt squeeze around him.

He slides his thumb up to your clit and you gasp. “Simon,” you moan. He nearly stops. It’s been years since he’s heard you say his name, let alone moan it. Fuck, Simon can’t help but grind his cock against the island counter, groaning.

It doesn’t take much to work you into an orgasm. Before he knows it, your moans become softer, higher pitched, and you’re coming apart, clenching hard on Simon’s fingers.

He works you through your orgasm, whispering praise into your ears. Simon gives you no time before pouncing, fisting his hands in your hair and devouring you. You wiggle underneath his weight, uttering something, but the words are lost into Simon’s mouth. He pulls away, his eyes meeting your expectant ones.

“What?”

“Upstairs,” you say, chest heaving. “My room is upstairs.”

***

Simon wakes before dawn. He’s lying on top of you, your strong breath rocking him up and down. Your limbs are impossibly tangled. He’s reminded of an identical morning, years ago, of what he did then, and what that choice led him to. But that was years ago. You were different then, broken. How was he supposed to know that his choice would make you shatter?

He untangles himself slowly. It feels like the process takes hours, though the sun fails to make an appearance by the time he slips out of bed. The clock reads four in the morning. That explains it. It also explains the way the room around him is spinning slightly. He’s still drunk– or at least buzzed –from the night before.

His pants are an easy find, discarded by the door. His shirt though… Simon spins around the room, eyes glazing over the space. He tries not to take anything in too deeply, too personal for this morning.

He spots his shirt on your vanity. Simon yanks it off, but something hard and heavy comes with it. It nearly drops to the floor, but Simon catches it before it can hit and wake you up.

It’s a perfume bottle, heavy and half-filled. Simon can’t suppress the urge of his half-drunk brain to sniff it. The scent— the scent of you —explodes in his synapses. He tosses a glance over his shoulder, ensuring you’re still asleep, before pocketing the bottle.

The dog follows Simon as he walks through the house. Luckily, as he slips on his shoes, the dog disappears into the rest of the house.

Simon lingers with a hand wrapped around the door knob. It warms under his touch.

“Are we doing this again?”

He flinches at the sound of your voice, “I ‘ave to.” Simon stays facing the door, though he doesn’t make a move to turn around. He knows how he must look to you, too cowardly to face you. He’s reminded of the last time he spent the night with you. He got out scot-free. What would have happened if you found him then? Simon can’t say for certain whether or not he would have left then, if you called out for him in the same delicate voice.

“Stay.”

“What?”

“In New York,” you say, voice dry with sleep. “With me. Get out of the SAS, the 141, all that bullshit.”

“‘S not that easy.”

“It is. I left. You can leave. Or you can stay and end up like Johnny–”

“What do you know about Johnny,’ Simon growls, turning on his heels. He straightens his spine, puffing his chest up like you’re a threat. Your dog buys it, growling and worming himself between you and Simon. You don't take the bait though. You honest to God laugh in Simon’s face.

“I know enough.” You step closer to Simon. The pooch gets the memo, clearing the way for you. Simon almost does the same, he wants to. Some instinctual part of his brain needs to cave to you. “You mean something, Simon,” you flick your eyebrows up, letting them drop immediately. It feels like a challenge, like you were asking Simon the silent question. Do you matter?

“You’re more than a soldier– more than a body on a field, waiting to drop.” There are tears in your eyes. You don't let them fall. Simon hopes you’ve finally realized that he isn’t worth your heartbreak. He’s never been, but at least your realization would stop his cruel cycle of him chewing you up and spitting you right back out.

“Come to New York, Simon, please. There– there’s a butcher shop up the block, they’re always looking for help. You said you used to do that stuff, right?”

Fucking hell. He had said it to you, years ago after a mission. Simon went drink for drink with Johnny and Gaz and got positively wasted. It was the night he first set his sight on you, when your tenderness sunk its claws into his heart and refused to let go. You didn’t know then what it would lead to. Simon did. Every love Simon had wilted in his claws. Why would you be different?

“Come here,” you plead, “Take the job with them. I can help you find an apartment or you can live with me but–” You grab Simon’s shoulders, tugging. It isn’t strong enough to turn him around, but he does. Your cheeks are wet and eyes glassy as you stare up at him. “Simon, it’s too late for us, but don’t let it be too late for you.”

Simon lifts his hand to your cheek, fingers grazing the plump skin. It slides to the back of your head and tugs– yanks you into his embrace as he crashes your lips against his own. The morning makes you soft though, as Simon nips your lips with his teeth, you melt, softening and slowing your movements.

It’s you that pulls away first, staring at Simon. You let him swipe his finger across your cheek, caressing you.

“Please,” you beg, kissing the palm of his hand.

Simon lets his hand fall from you. It sits achingly cold at his side.

It would be cowardly to leave you without a goodbye after forcing himself back into your life, even if it was for one night. Simon considers himself to be many things, but never a coward. Yet, standing in front of you, staring into your expectant eyes, words don’t come easy.

You step towards him. Simon steps back. The door knob presses into his back. His heart is pounding, the blood in his eyes deafening him. Your scent wafts his way, your perfume. The one whose bottle he knocked over, nearly let slip through his fingers and shatter. The one which you never got to wear in the 141. The one weighing down his back pocket.

“I shouldn’t have come,” Simon says.

He doesn’t look back. Not when you gasp his name. Not when he opens the door. Not when he walks down the snowy street.

Price and Gaz will ask about his holiday. They’re kind like that. In the cab to the airport, passing the bottle of perfume between his hands, Simon considers his answer. Single word answers are his forté, but won’t suffice with the prying curiosities of his captain and sergeant.

The answer comes to him when he sniffs the perfume once more.

In the coming week, when Gaz claps him on the back, he will ask, “How was the holiday, Ghost?”

Simon will answer, “I had a meal with an old friend.”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #ghost fanfiction #cod fanfic #ghost x female reader

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cutielando · 1 month

Note

hi love! i was wondering if you could write an imagine based of the music videoclip of ariana grande’s “we can’t be friends” and than with Lando x reader? the videoclip ends with ariana forgetting her ex boyfriend and they walk next to each other without knowing each other but can you maybe make the end with after reader removes her memories of her and lando they meet each other again ?

a/n: thank you so much for requesting!!❤️

my masterlist

You hadn’t wanted it to come to that. To come to the moment when you wouldn’t even be able to be in the same room as each other without screaming each other’s ears off.

Relationships were not like how people depicted them to be. All sunshine and roses, endless love and no problems whatsoever.

You had wanted to believe that at the beginning. You couldn’t imagine Lando being anything other than a perfect boyfriend. You didn’t even want to pathom the off chance that he would ever hurt you.

And yet, there you two were, screaming at each other in the middle of the streets, dead in the night, under the moonlight and with nobody around. Monaco was silent and peaceful at this hour, but you two weren’t.

You didn’t even remember why you were arguing, what had got the both of you so riled up. It seemed like you didn’t need a reason to fight these days.

After that, after the fighting and the harsh words, came the break up. You should have seen it coming, should have done something to prevent losing the love you two shared, but it was too late.

Your relationship was beyond salvation. And it hurt. It hurt like a real bitch ever since you stopped seeing him walk through the door of your apartment, every time you went to bed and he was not there to hold you as you slipped into unconsciousness.

You felt him everywhere you were, saw him in every little thing you would do, every single day.

It had all been too much.

You couldn’t deal with the pain of losing him, of not being able to see him, feel him or talk to him.

Which is why you did the only thing that could help you.

Wipe your memory clean of him.

You couldn’t bring yourself to really do it at first. The idea of forgetting everything about him, every little thing that you loved about him and the way be made you feel, you didn’t want to live in a world where you would never know the way he loved you.

But as time passed and you saw how careless he was, how he was living his life to the fullest like your relationship had never even existed, that pushed you over the edge.

So you called the doctor and scheduled the procedure. Gathering every single memory that you had of him, anything you had that reminded you of him was stacked in a box and carried with you.

In the waiting room, as you read through the contract you were about to sign, sneaking glances at the box in your lap staring back at you, you couldn’t help but chuckle. Two years of your life with Lando fit in a carton box.

It was almost ironic how the most precious thing in your life fitted into a small box.

And soon enough, the contents of the box would forever disappear and everything would disappear from your mind like it had never even been there.

The feeling that you had after you opened your eyes post-procedure had been the best feeling you had ever had. You felt like you were floating, happiness coursing through every single vein and you felt like you were walking on sugar clouds.

You were carefree, not a single problem in the world.

Lando didn’t know about it. He had thought about reaching out, purely to see how you were doing and curious about how you were handling the break up.

He had hoped, as bad as he knew it was, that you were handling it just as badly as he was. He didn’t sleep the same, the sparkle in his eyes was gone and he wasn’t the same Lando anymore.

Everyone could see that, everyone close to him knew that part of him died with the break up.

He didn’t hear about it until he talked to your sister. She had told him about it, about what you had done, and it felt like he had been stabbed in the heart repeatedly.

You had been so hurt by his actions, the pain having become so unbearable that you had resulted to completely altering your memory to wipe everything good about your relationship from your mind.

Everything the two of you had shared.

He couldn’t live with that. He couldn’t allow that to be the end of your story.

He had to fix it. He had to step up and do the right thing, do right by you. But how?

It was simple.

You would start all over again. A clean slate, taken to a whole new meaning.

Which is why he was standing right now in front of you in the paddock, your sister having dragged you with her to the race and helped him arrange everything.

“Hello, how are you?” he had started the conversation, outstretching his hand and waiting for you to shake his.

You looked at him, seeing his eyes bringing a familiarity to your core but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Something in your heart told you this was no stranger to you, this was someone you knew.

But your mind didn’t register anything, completely void of any information about the man standing in front of you.

“I’m okay, really excited to be here for the weekend” your smile, just as beautiful as he had remembered it, clung to your beautiful face, reminding him of why he had fallen in love with you in the first place.

“I’m Lando, by the way”

“Y/N, it’s nice to meet you”

And maybe, just maybe, you would get another shot at love.

Maybe, this time, you would get your happily ever after.

He would make sure of that.

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odoraful · 3 months

Text

Mortal Expertise

before his nightly patrol, xiao needs help from you to understand something he observed among mortals.

word count: 1011 a/n: my wish is that we can all meet xiao again at the lantern rite event coming up; i miss him too much :'( this is my first post writing one of my favourite genshin characters, so i hope it's alright! will be writing lots more in the future ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

Xiao had been wiping his jade spear in the same spot for the past minute. You angled your book down and peered towards him, looking at his back as he sat on the side of the bed.

Strange. Usually he’d be gone by now, you thought, turning a page and skimming over words that escaped your focus. Xiao was always efficient when preparing for his nights of patrol. No matter how many times he had gone out to vanquish the monsters that crept too close to Wangshu Inn or Qingce Village, his routine had never changed. Stranger still, he was deathly silent. This wouldn’t have been odd during those first few exchanges between you and him, where conversations had to be coaxed out of him through reassurances and almond tofu. However, with your growing relationship, he would always tell you what he saw on his trips out (in his own unembellished way).

“Did you see any crystalflies yesterday evening?” you asked, putting your book aside and swinging over to sit next to him. “The weather is warming up, so I imagine there must be lots of them out.”

You tipped your head to try and see his eyes hidden behind his hair. Xiao gave an affirmative grunt. “Yes, I did.” His gaze never left the blade of his spear, fixated on his seemingly onerous polishing task.

“Xiao, is there something wrong?” You put a hand on his forearm, immediately halting his movements. “You’re much quieter than usual, and your spear is so well-polished I can see your own reflection in it”. You chuckled, hoping to ease any tension. He softened at your concern.

“I’m alright, you needn’t worry. I just had something I need your… mortal expertise on.”

Ah, of course! You felt relieved. It was only natural for Xiao to be nervous about confiding that. He had only begun to be open about his curiosity with humans.

“There is a mortal tradition,” he began slowly, picking his words carefully. “When someone must leave their partner for the day, they usually engage in a kind of… affectionate physical exchange to mark their temporary absence.”

You paused. A physical exchange?

“Well, yes! Before they leave each other for a day, a couple will typically kiss each other,” you mused, “It’s seen as a romantic gesture since it signifies-”

You heard Xiao suck in a breath as he tipped his head forward, further blocking out your view of him. He held his face in one gloved hand.

“I- I see,” he stuttered, the words tumbling out of him to prevent you from further elaborating. He suddenly stood up. His spear disappeared as he willed it away and he turned to face you. “Well then, I will be leaving for the night”.

You had a clear view of him now. His cheeks were flushed a bright pink and his eyes darted everywhere besides your face. He finally risked a glance at you. Realisation suddenly hit you.

“Xiao, are you asking for a kiss from me before you leave?” You couldn’t even finish the question without cracking a smile. You were practically beaming at him. The weather tonight was warmer, but he felt like he was suddenly heating up at how brightly you grinned.

“Perhaps, yes,” he admitted. Quickly, he followed by saying, “It was something I observed from afar from those similar to us in closeness, but you do not need to…”, his voice dwindled a little, “indulge me if you do not want to partake in similar actions”.

You stood up, closing the gap between the two of you. Xiao was startled by your movements.

“Your study of mortals is an accurate one indeed.” You wrapped your arms around his neck. A dangerously close distance that had Xiao holding his breath. His arms instinctively circled your waist. Xiao knew that he was, regrettably, a novice at these sorts of things. It brought a great struggle within him when he saw your hands resting idly against a railing, or your hair falling loose against your face. In his mind, he would picture holding your hand in his, or brushing your hair away, but when it came to actioning these moves, he felt flustered. The fear of making a wrong move was too great for him to do anything. However, he always found comfort in your words.

‘Don’t force yourself, okay?’ You had told him this after one of the first times you suddenly hugged him, and he had stood stiffly in your arms. Xiao remembered mentally punching himself after the encounter. ‘We have all the time we need, there’s no rush.’

Could he be the one who initiated these types of things? He pictured himself leaning down and kissing you. Stealing the move away from you. There was no mistaking your intention in wanting this too. All he had to do was do it. Your voice brought him away from his thoughts.

“And of course I’d like to kiss you!” You said fervidly. “You’re my partner, I’d do anything-”

Your words were cut off. Oh, was all that passed your mind when Xiao leaned in. Your mind spun. His lips were gentle against your own, but hesitant. His worries felt palpable against your skin. Slowly, you deepened the kiss. It was an assurance of many things. That you were proud of him for opening up to you, that he wasn’t messing anything up, that you were enjoying his company. His lips… are surprisingly soft… Did he apply some kind of balm to them beforehand!?

Xiao’s heart hammered in his chest. He was beside himself with uncharacteristic elation. The only things he could sense now was the electricity between your bodies, and the subtle, violetgrass scent of your hair. He pulled away first, fearing that he would not be able to leave for patrol that night if he stayed. Looking into your eyes for any sign of disappointment, he saw only the way your eyes sparkled with delight.

“I… I hope I didn’t scare you,” Xiao whispered, holding you tighter. “May I have another tomorrow night?”

#✏️〰odorawrites #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin impact xiao #genshin xiao #xiao fluff #xiao x reader #xiao x y/n #xiao x you

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fruitmins · 1 year

Text

Purple Car | jungkook

➭ summary: in which jungkook is a successful solo idol and your his long time girlfriend that he hasn’t seen in almost two months. again. it’s starting to feel like your more like distant friends more than lovers so when you unexpectedly disappear, jungkook goes the distance to try to find you.

➭genre: solo idol jk x reader, drabble

➭warnings: none really. a little angsty and depressing. there’s a couple bad words

➭note: first post🥳 | heard a snippet of the acoustic version of ‘car outside’ and this was the outcome sooo feedback would be appreciated.

Jungkook’s eyes begin to strain as he stared at the blue screen with wide and glossy eyes. He didn’t care how badly he was damaging his eyes. It didn’t even cross his mind for a second. He could barely process the information that was on the screen. But still, he stared at it in disbelief. How could he care about himself when the most important person he cared about was missing?

‘nearest train station’

‘train tickets to Daegu’

According to your laptop that was the last thing you had googled. The last time you had used it being almost an hour ago.

His heavy heart sank. Would the train be gone by now?

No. He didn’t want to think of the possibility that you actually left him. You two had always talked about going to Daegu together. Going out to hotels and spending the days happily touring together.

Jungkook’s throat ran dry as he thought about the word touring. When was the last time he actually spent quality time with you? He had just came back from a month tour, promoting his new solo album. He had spent weeks prior getting ready for it and his schedule became full in an instant.

He felt bad and had always planned on making up for lost time as soon as he was done. He knew that after his company would leave him alone for once and he was set on making you his top priority after.

He always made sure to call you at least once a day when on tour, or send little gifts and things to the house in an attempt to cheer you up.

Jungkook glanced around the room, some of his latest gifts not even out of the box. At first, he was constant with the calls and gifts. They would be sweet and meaningful. But as the tour continued the more tired he got. His calls were short and late at night and his gifts became small and less frequent.

His stomach swelled with guilt at the thought. How could he do this to you? Abandon you, make promises, and give you false hope. He remembered the words he said to you to cheer you up.

‘It’ll be over soon before you know it.’

‘When I get back we’ll have the best nights of our lives.’

‘I promise to call you more babe.’

‘I promise I’m fine babe, everything will go back to normal when I’m done.’

‘Stop fucking freaking out so much.’

Most of the time, his mind was clouded by exhaustion and pressure he forgot about the things he said. It felt like all the nights before he slept was like a drunken blur. All he could remember was being on stage and wanting to do good for his fans.

Well now he remembered. All the dry talks between you two. All of the half hearted things he said while slurring, barely awake. Sometimes almost yelling at you whenever you spoke to loud or to much. It was clear as time went he became more moody and distant.

He felt sick.

On the king sized bed, next to the earlier gifts laid your phone. No wonder you hadn’t been answering your phone. Did you really go the extra mile to leave everything at home?

No, he thought again. This must mean your in the house. Maybe the shower, or you went for a walk. Why would you leave your phone?

He tapped on the screen as it lit up. His handful of text showed on the screen. Your phone was almost dead and seemed completely untouched.

12:02AM

Even though he knew you never took showers this late, he went to the master bathroom to take a peek. Nothing. There was limited places you could be hiding, and he had already checked the place once he realized you weren’t home when he first arrived. You weren’t ANYWHERE. Not even in the guest bedroom.

Now he was really starting to panic as realization set in. He had screwed up. He had played with your emotions. He had left you one to many times. Now you were leaving him.

Now he was feeling everything that you had been for the past month and a half, and every other time a big event happened. He felt abandoned, sad, ditched and empty. How the fuck did he not realize what he was doing? How did he not realize how you were feeling? Why didn’t you talk to him? Did you? Not like he could really remember if you had.

‘nearest train station’

He clicked on your past search to see the exact responds. Shit. It wasn’t that far from the house. Only fifteen minutes to be exact. And you had been ghosting him for an hour.

He sprung into action at the realization. He would just had to hope that the train didn’t leave yet. To just hope that you went to early or that you had changed your mind.

He jumps into his car. Not caring that he wasn’t even supposed to be out this late, especially not in his recognizable purple car. Something even his fans knew was his prized possession since he and your favorite color was purple. In his purple car he felt like any other normal person. Especially when you were in the car with him. Now if just felt empty.

He practically sped to the train station (he actually did go over the speed limit a little), immediately parking his car in a random lot before booking it inside the large building.

Inside, he is immediately hit by a sense of bustling activity and the sound of people rushing to catch their trains as his eyes try to scan to look for you. Even though it’s early in the morning, there’s still a bunch of people.

Even when it’s a little dark inside the station since the sun isn’t up yet, he can spot a variety of posters and signs, displaying information about train schedules, destinations, and services available at the station.

He runs to the board, looking for the word Daegu and the color from his face drains when he finds it. The last train to Daegu had left at 11pm. Almost an hour ago. And what’s even worse is that he couldn’t even get a ticket till six.

He almost growled at the board out of anger. What he wasn’t going to do was sit around for five hours while you would be at a foreign place with no phone and nothing to defend yourself with. Especially since you were arriving at such a late time. He was not going to sit around when he had a perfectly good private jet.

Jungkook didn’t care who he woke up. He was the most successful man under his company and getting even more popular around the world. If he wanted a private jet ready at twelve o clock, he was going to get it.

Jungkook would be arriving to Daegu a big whopping thirty minutes before you, and it would take him a decent amount of time to get to the train station you would be arriving it. In short, Jungkook was seriously cutting it short.

If he was even a second to late, you’d disappear into the sea of people and his chances of finding you would decrease drastically by the minute.

Despite being exhausted and sleep deprived, Jungkook couldn’t sleep on the jet. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. All he could do is refrain himself from tearing out his own hair by repeating calling your number, listening to your voice mail for comfort since he knew you wouldn’t answer.

Once his phone had died, all he had was his thoughts. The depressing feeling of sorrow and loss took over him as he cried his eyes out. He missed you and he hated that he drew you away. He hate that he hurt you. He couldn’t imagine a life without you. He wanted to marry you for God’s sake. He felt like his chest was crashing the more he was away from you.

Finally, after he arrived he had a car waiting for him to take him to the train station. He had requested the same purple car he had left back at home, it didn’t feel right picking you up in an all black shaded windowed limo. Whenever you both went somewhere you took that car. You two had spent camping trips and dinner dates in that car. Sure it was newer and wasn’t his car but it was close enough.

He drove himself to the train station and ran inside the building as fast as he could. His face was hidden with a hat and mask as he tried his best to blend in with the people while still desperately trying to reach the platforms.

When he did, he saw one train already letting off a load of people. Jungkook immediately grew terrified. Did you already get off? Did he already lose you? A million thoughts ran through his head as his eyes started to water again.

He didn’t stop walking till he was at the front of the platform, watching as the people who got off with smiles reunited with family members or friends.

Jungkook watched the train empty, looking through the windows in hopes of getting a glimpse of you still inside. But it was mostly empty. You must of been one of the first people to get off. You must of been in a rush to get away from him. To start over. To leave him like he had done you.

Jungkook’s heavy head dropped, looking straight at the ground with closed eyes as tears started to fall. Grieving over the loss of his soulmate. And he could only blame himself.

He wished he could turn back time and do things differently, but he knew that was impossible. All he could do now was try to pick up the pieces of his shattered life and move forward, even though he had no idea how to do that without his wife by his side. But he would always missing you piece of his life..

“Jungkook?”

Jungkook’s body immediately froze at his name. The voice was behind him and spoke with a shaky voice but he was positive it sounded just like you. Was his mind fucking with him? Did he actually hear your voice? For the first time in a month? Were you still here? Did he still have a chance?

He swallowed a lump in his throat as he turned around, a little cautious. His breathing stopped when he met your red eyes. It was you. Only a couple steps away from him. You looked different. More skinny, you had on older clothes. Not the ones he bought you. And he could tell by your tear stained cheek and puffy eyes that you had been crying for a while. But you still looked beautiful. He missed your eyes, your touch, your smell..

Without giving it a second thought, he jumped towards you. His arms immediately wrapped around you as he gave you a tight hug and held you. His tears were spilling more violently as he sobbed into you. Relief rushed through him as he held you. You didn’t push him away, but you didn’t exactly hug him either. But he didn’t care. As long as he got to hug you. He was scared of letting you go. He didn’t want you to leave, and he didn’t want to leave either.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He managed to choke out and soon enough you began to cry with him, becoming emotional in his arms. “I’m so fucking sorry.” He repeated, the first genuine words he said to you in a while. Your familiar soothing smell with the warmth of your small figure stopped him from having a full out panic attack.

“Jungkook I—“ you started to speak but he quickly shook his head, pulling away to analyze your face. He looked into your eyes with such relief and care but sadness still filled his expression. He was still scared you wouldn’t forgive him. That he had still lost you.

“I’m terrible Y/N. I didn’t realize just how much I let my job take over my life. Our life. I missed you Y/N I really did. I love you. I love you more than myself. I don’t wanna leave you anymore.” He said quickly pulling you back into a tight embrace, and this time he almost melted when your arms wrapped around him. He wanted to say so much more but he couldn’t form the words. It was paining him just seeing you cry.

“Please, give me a second chance to fix things. I’m not going anywhere without you Y/N.” He said, his desperate words spoken in a firm voice. He wanted to let you know just how serious he was about his words.

“Don’t promise anything..” you mumbled. The first proper-ish sentence you’ve said the whole time. He missed your voice, it wasn’t the same over the phone but your words stung. Did you not trust him? Did you think he would abandon you? Cause if so he’d get on his knees and propose to you right there.

“I just don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to leave you.” He sobbed into your shoulder honestly. Jungkook had always been a little shy with crying, even in front of you. But he was willing to expose himself to you. To let you know how he really felt.

“I-I won’t. Leave..” You choked out in a low voice and Jungkook was immediately over the moon. All his worries and fears washed away at your words. “I love you.” You spoke, this time in a stronger but gentle voice as his grip loosened a little around you.

He responded by pulling down his mask and kissing you with starving lips. His arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled your body against his. You kissed him back, melting in his touch as the world around you disappeared. You both had missed each others touch and you practically cried of happiness at the familiar warmth of his lips on yours.

When you pulled away to catch your breath, Jungkook leaned his forehead so it was touching yours. He closed his eyes and took everything in as he continued to hold your waist. Never would he be leaving you again. Never.

— A YEAR LATER —

“You ready for the tour baby?” Jungkook asked you in a gentle and soothing voice when he slithered behind you, wrapping his arms around you and putting his head on your shoulder. He gave you a kiss on your neck as he watched you pack your large suitcase.

“Absolutely. I can’t wait to visit all the different places.” You said with a wide smile as you leaned into his touch. When Jungkook cleared his voice you giggled. “And watch you preform of course.” A satisfied smirk showed on his lips at your response.

“Well I’m glad your happy.” He replied with a warm smile, his voice filled with joy and happiness.

Because what you didn’t know was that on the last day of the tour in Daegu, Jungkook was going to propose to you after singing Still With You.

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts x female reader #jungkok #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x you #bts x army #bts idol au #bts ot7 #bts reactions

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hispg · 6 months

Text

Between royalty and vows

Pairings: Prince! Leon x Fem! Reader

Summary: A forced marriage, a fate set in stone, nothing could change that.

In the world of royalty, there were no choices, only obligations to fulfill. What you didn't expect was to become engaged to a renowned prince, ready to succeed the lineage.

Until that moment, you still had some hope that everything would work out, maybe it wasn't so bad. But it would be a shame if your future husband had a mistress.

Wouldn't it?

Wc:2.6k

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt/ comfort, cheating, arranged marriage, eventual smut, one-sided love, affairs, (I'll put more once things start to progress).

Prologue | 1 |

An:It took me a little longer to post, sorry! I'm in my week of college exams, the finals are approaching. I'm studying a lot, feeling very tired. Thanks for the sweet messages! I didn't expect to receive so much support! I appreciate it!💕💕💕

Chapter 1: Sunset

As soon as the sun rose, Leon was already awake, it's not as if he'd managed to sleep through the night in any case, he was too anxious for that. That morning you would arrive at the castle, and consequently start living here. It was a big step, certainly, but it was more than necessary, especially as the wedding approached.

He himself couldn't believe that he was getting married in the next few days, it had all happened so quickly that he hadn't even had time to think about it properly. Just like that, his life was turned upside down, a pang in his heart every time he thought about it. Every time he thought that he was being forced to marry a stranger, someone he didn't have a shred of affection for.

All these thoughts disappeared once there was a knock on his door, causing him to push down his sheets and start getting ready for the day.

"Your Highness, your father wants to speak to you." The familiar voice of his butler, Ausdret.

Leon lets out a tired sigh, only muttering a small, "I'll be there."

He knows what his father wants to talk to him about, to reinforce his duty once again, to remind him about the dynasty.

There was no escape, and that was all that was on his mind as he got ready. He took longer than necessary, on purpose, just not to leave his bedroom now.

After he'd finally finished, he went to look in the mirror, just to make sure he was properly dressed and polished, after all it was supposed to be a big day. But his eyes stopped wandering over his face, and hovered on a lipstick mark on the collar of his shirt, enough to bring a small smile to his face, eyes sparkling with the memory of his beloved, his only one.

Knowing he would have to hide it, he took one last look before tucking the collar back into place. Making sure no one else could see.

As soon as he left his room, his butler was waiting for him outside, making several attempts at small talk, which Leon wasn't interested in, though. His mind was far away, as if he had never been here in the first place.

Once he arrived in his father's chamber, he was greeted with a big smile, which was not reciprocated by Leon. Only a small nod came from him.

"So everything's settled?" A small whisper, a question that Leon already knew the answer to.

His father proudly replied, "Yes, I've already arranged everything with Vladimir. You and she are getting married in the next few days." His father speaks, looking at the other man in the room, Duke Vladimir, his father's best friend.

However, Leon didn't seem at all excited about the situation, in fact, he seemed rather upset.

"This will be great, we'll finally be able to expand our business." This sentence came from Leon's father, who was more than happy with the pact.

It was a long-standing interest of the king, of course, who wouldn't want to expand their business with one of the richest royal families?

But on the other hand, Leon had other plans. Plans that were not accepted by his father.

"Cheer up, the girl is a beautiful princess, very kind from what I've seen. I'm sure you'll get on well." Vladimir says, trying to console Leon, but frankly, it only seems to have gotten worse.

"How long do we have to stay in this marriage?" Perhaps he was still hoping it would only be for a short time.

"Indefinitely. They will be the source of our success, especially the princess. We need to collaborate with them, just as they collaborate with us." The king says, somewhat obviously, that he won't be breaking the contract any time soon.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll talk to the other servants. We need to organize the wedding invitations." Vladimir says as he leaves, just after bowing to the two members of royalty in the room.

Silence followed, Leon too upset with his father to speak a single word, while the king was daydreaming.

An ambitious king who would slowly make his reign the most prosperous in history, he couldn't ask for more. This would make everything perfect for Leon to take the throne and make the nation of Italy even prouder.

"I don't know how far your greed will go." A plausible complaint coming from Leon, directly confronting his father.

"I only want what's best for you and, consequently, for my nation." They both knew where this conversation was going, but since they were both hard-headed, they would continue anyway.

"What's best for me? You've arranged a marriage with a stranger and you think that's what's best for me?" By now, Leon's voice had changed considerably.

King Leonardo didn't like arguing, least of all with his own son. However, he would never tolerate his disobedience, never.

"And what would be better for you? Marry a paltry lady? Honestly, you need to think bigger." And the king hit the nail on the head, because that's exactly what Leon was getting at.

Ashley did come from an affluent family, but she wasn't as rich as the British family. Which in this case was yours.

"Don't you dare talk about her like that." Leon was once again affronting his father, which would certainly have serious consequences.

"Listen, if you want to continue your affair with this so-called Ashley, go ahead, I won't stop you. Now don't expect me to let you ruin your own future, too."

The two of them looked at each other not very kindly, especially Leon.

It seemed like he was being generous. What's the point? Living a life on the sly with the woman he loved? It didn't seem fair. It wasn't fair.

"You still have a lot to learn, my son." The king spoke with a certain heavy heart, and at the same time a jaw-dropping arrogance.

But how could Leon calm down? He didn't even know the woman he was going to marry and, even worse, he couldn't commit to the person he loved, Ashley.

But what irritated him even more was the fact that he knew it was all his father's whim.

But even this marriage wouldn't stop the prince from having a relationship with this woman, even if it meant an extramarital affair. And Leon didn't care if that had consequences, not even for his future wife.

"All I ask is that you don't complicate things. I'm still being kind enough to allow you to have these affairs, whether with Ashley or any other woman." That would even sound gentle if he wasn't talking about extramarital affairs.

"... Alright, Father." Once again, Leon swallowed his pride and let it happen. But then again, it's not as if he could do anything against his father's wishes.

Leon stormed out of his father's chamber, strong, heavy footsteps echoing down the so far empty corridor, and he didn't even look back. His mind was in the purest of shambles, fists clenched and an expression that wasn't the friendliest.

As he walked quickly through the corridors, he couldn't help but notice the commotion outside, expensive carriages arriving in the castle courtyard, making room for butlers to work and remove whatever was inside.

He imagined it was the arrangements for the marriage, since it would take place in the next few weeks. So it wasn't anything that caught his attention for long.

However, as soon as he looked up from the mezzanine, he saw the familiar figure, it was you. Wearing a simple blue dress, delicate gloves that covered up to your forearms, and of course, he couldn't forget your soft features.

As soon as you saw him from the hall, you gave him a discreet smile, making him let out the breath he didn't even know he was holding. Even for a brief second, his expression softened, but that didn't make him any less upset by the whole situation.

Queen Sarah spoke to you politely, saying how grateful she was for the courteous company of the princess, who was in fact being awaited by the other residents of the castle, at least most of them.

In fact, the queen felt lonely, since apart from the governesses, she had no other female companion to talk to during the day.

Slowly, Leon descended the grand staircase, stepping onto the red carpet, his steps light and slow, as if he were analyzing what he would do next.

Your eyes met his, and you smiled gently, bowing to him as you should. And he reciprocated, of course.

"Princess." He said, giving a nod to his mother, who politely curtsied to you.

"I'll get your bedroom ready." She says, her voice sweet and calm, as she moves gracefully through the castle.

You felt a shiver run up your spine at the thought that you were about to share a room with him. Since you weren't married yet, you were just going to sleep next to each other, a door that could be opened to connect one room to the other, since couples who hadn't made a commitment weren't supposed to sleep together until they were married.

"You have a beautiful home, prince." You murmur, the sweet smile always on your lips.

He chuckles a little, offering you his arm to hold, "Let me introduce you to the castle itself."

You smile, taking his arm and letting him lead you, obviously he was only doing it out of politeness, but you'd love to spend a little more time with him.

When your covered fingers curled around his arm, you couldn't help but feel the muscles that flexed with every slight movement, without any effort. Just as you couldn't help but notice his eyes every time he looked at you and explained something, the way his voice echoed through the empty corridors.

You walked side by side, your footsteps echoing through the unoccupied hallways, giving off a calm and intimate atmosphere somehow. You noticed the paintings, the properly placed decorations.

Even the curtains matched the carpets, as much as you were used to this sort of thing, it was still breathtaking to see such a sophisticated place.

You felt that despite your enchantment with the prince, you could see his lack of enthusiasm for you, you could see that it sounded more like a duty than anything else.

What did you expect? That it would be a fairy tale? In this life you were leading, the heart didn't always follow the rules of fairy tales.

"Let me take you to the courtyard, it's a nice day." You notice the sigh at the end of the sentence, as well as the distance he kept.

Even with all his explanations, all the talk about royal life, homework, the explanations for every painting in the corridor, you didn't pay much attention. Your attention was focused completely on him, perhaps because you were hoping for a hint of feeling, whatever that was.

Too bad you wouldn't find it even if you looked hard enough.

As soon as you left the large building, you were presented with a landscape that looked more like a hand-painted picture.

The courtyard was perfect, full of roses and other types of flowers, a wooded area, the grass all at the same length, without a single flaw. Meticulously cut bushes, flowers that adorned the greenery and gave it extra life, it seemed magical.

The afternoon sun shone down on the whole place, bringing everything to life. The birds humming and bathing in the water fountain, nature stretching as far as the eye could see.

"I hope you are pleased, princess." Leon says, his calm, velvety voice immediately making you look at him.

"Certainly, it's very well appreciated." With a sweet, polite smile you answered him, approaching the fountain and sitting down on one of the edges.

And he repeated the gesture, sitting down next to you.

Just as you were about to engage him in conversation, a strong wind whipped against you, causing your hair to tangle, the softly combed strands to fall into your face, undoing a good few minutes' work in an instant.

Then you felt a warm, robust hand on your cheek, brushing the strands behind your ear.

A gesture that was intimate, no doubt about it, and that was able to make you blush slightly as soon as you felt his hand graze your cheek, but which he pulled away.

"Thank you." You say with a gentle, shy smile, tidying up a few more of the strands that were still getting messy.

Despite his smile, you could see the piercing blue gaze, without much emotion. His gaze, which seemed to be as cold as ice, was still so attractive.

"My pleasure, princess." The warm tone didn't change his placid expression, not even if he tried very hard.

As the two of you stood in silence, all you could hear was the gentle breeze and the birds singing, everything seemed so peaceful.

Except for the restlessness of your heart, which stubbornly pounded every time he looked at you. And you mentally plagued yourself every time this happened.

Why was he doing that? Out of courtesy? Politeness? Decorum? Or were you thinking too much? Creating too many expectations?

And so you remained, gazing at the horizon and watching the sun slowly set, watching the magic of nature while your minds were in a whirl.

Your hand on the edge of the fountain, as well as his, fingers almost grazing each other, and you were tempted to make a move.

However, it would have been inappropriate for a lady, to say the least. Especially knowing that the chances of him taking your hand away were high.

So you'd better make the most of what you had.

As the garden began to darken a little and the sunlight slowly faded, Leon stood and looked around, seeing that it was already getting dark.

You've spent the whole day walking around the castle, so time has passed too quickly. At least for you.

"We should go, dinner should be ready by now." He was the first to break the silence, once again offering his arm and his company to take you to the dining area.

And there you went again, walking slowly through the courtyard back into the castle.

However, halfway there Leon stopped, picking up a red rose that had fallen to the ground. As soon as he knelt down to pick it up, he turned to you and planted a soft kiss on the back of your hand, his warm lips brushing against your gloved hand. It sent shivers through your body.

"Red looks good on you." He murmurs, placing the flower in your hair, very gently so as not to mess it up.

You made a little chuckle, the blush clear on your cheeks. Was he doing it out of politeness? Or just to keep up appearances?

It would have been a beautiful, subtle, gentle and even romantic gesture. That's if you hadn't noticed the lipstick staining the collar of his shirt.

Oh oh, poor you.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon x y/n #leon x you #leon resident evil #leon kennedy smut #resident evil 4 leon #resident evil leon #leon scott kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon smut #resident evil #re leon

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theemporium · 10 months

Note

THAT DANNY SMUT WAS AMAZING 😩 if you’re able to, can you write one along the lines of him body worshipping the reader after he finds out that she is insecure about her smile, reader brought up that his smile is her favorite feature and that he makes up for both of them since hers is bad and he’s like 😁🤨 , LMAO he begins to think about it and realizes that she always covers her mouth and has never seen her real smile :( even though she puts up a fight, he fucks her dumb and makes her smile during it . “ don’t cover your face..fuck this is what you been hiding from me” while he squished your cheeks together UGH

thank you so much!! and thank you for requesting!🖤

Despite how new your relationship with the Aussie driver was, he worked out pretty quickly that you didn’t like being the object of focus whenever he had his camera in his hands.

And for the life of him he couldn’t work out why.

There had been countless times over the last few months since you started dating Daniel where he would whip out his camera—whether it was on one of your cute dates or a casual day at home—and point it towards you, wanting nothing more than to catch your beauty in a candid moment.

And every single time you had managed to cover your face or turn away before he could click the button.

It took weeks for him to ask you, and when he heard your reasoning, he swore something in chest cracked a little.

“I just don’t like my smile,” you had admitted to him with a sheepish expression on your face. “But it’s fine. Your smile is pretty enough for the both of us, baby.”

But Daniel didn’t like that. He didn’t like the way you put yourself down like that, so casually like it was natural. And he didn’t like that fact in the months he had been dating you, he hadn’t seen your proper smile in the course of your relationship. And he certainly didn’t like the idea that you didn’t think you deserved to be the muse of his photography account when that was all he wanted to post about these days.

He didn’t like any of it and he swore he would make you change your mind. And the thing was that Daniel could be very persuasive, both with his words and with his cock.

“Danny,” you gasped as your body jolted with each thrust, tits bouncing and walls clenching around his cock like you could feel him any deeper than you already did.

“That’s it, baby, gimme another one,” he groaned as he squeezed your hips, his hooded eyes focused on the way his cock disappeared inside you with each thrust of his hips. “Wanna feel you come again for me, pretty girl.”

“C-Can’t,” you sobbed and shook your head, your hands fisting the sheets beneath you as he continued to fuck you like you were just a toy for him to use. God, even the idea made you clench around him. “Too much.”

“Nuh uh,” he groaned and shook his head as he looked up at you, your head falling back against the pillow as your lips parted with your pretty moans. “Gonna keep going until you give me what I want. Not gonna stop fucking you silly until you show me that smile of yours, pretty girl.”

Almost instinctively your hands went to your face. “Danny—”

“No,” he groaned as he gripped your wrists, both of your hands pinned above your head by one of his as he glared down at you. “No hiding from me.”

And he could’ve sworn his heart wanted to burst when you finally gave him the smile he was waiting for, the way he had to hold back his own release as he squished your cheeks with his free hand and grinned down at you.

“There’s my pretty girl,” he murmured before he leaned down to kiss your pretty smile, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the room. “C’mon, baby, smile for me while you come around my cock.”

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bri-sonat · 3 months

Text

Bloodied Waters

Pairing: Brienne of Tarth x Reader

Warnings: mentions of blood and slight violence, a tiny bit of angst, fluff, non-sexual nudity and intimacy. Slight canon deviation.

Synopsis: When Brienne returns covered in traces of battle, you give her comfort and safety - and a nice bath.

A/N: This has been sitting finished since July but I haven't wanted to post it for many reasons. For some reason I don't hate this fic anymore so I am taking the opportunity now so I can't revert back to my original state, lol. As per usual, English isn't my first language and all that.

Thank you to @daydream-cement for being the most supportive and encouraging friend I could ask for, and for reading this and giving me your opinion months ago.

Two months.

It had been two months since you had seen her last. Since she rode off to fight Gods knows what battle. In this time of uncertainty, you couldn’t be sure where she was sent off to anymore.

The imminent threat of the Night King and his army breaching The Wall weighed heavily on the land and it resulted in Brienne being away more than usual – but she had never been away this long.

You couldn’t be blamed when you began to wonder if she was still alive after the six-week mark and she hadn’t returned or been heard from. No one had from the company she had departed with. And when it hit eight weeks, your worries didn't get any better.

So, they were all either dead or still fighting for their lives. Those were the only reasons your stress-ridden brain could come up with.

If she had been removed from this mortal realm, she would have died alone. Alone somewhere. Probably in immense pain.

Even if it hurt you to even entertain the thought, you hoped her possible death had been fast. That way, she didn’t have to suffer.

Your heartbreaking thoughts were cut short by the sound of a horn, signaling that the group had returned and to open the gate. From your window, you could see a band of people on horses, three of them unmanned, which made you feel uneasy.

It was usually easy to spot Brienne in a crowd of people, but her straw-blonde hair was nowhere to be seen. The pit in your stomach that had been growing over the past weeks seemed to drop when you couldn’t find her.

Maybe the chance of her losing in battle was more probable than you had been willing to accept.

But until someone explicitly told you that she had perished in battle, you would have hope for her survival.

You witnessed as the gate was opened and the warriors rode in - the people and horses disappearing from view before the gate was once again closed.

Staring out the window and waiting for a knock on your door was only going to drive you mad, so you decided to pass the time in some other way.

Scurrying about your room, you tried finding something to do but restlessness got the better of you, and you soon found yourself waiting for that knock on the door that could either be the face of your love, or the worst possible news.

After fifteen minutes of silence, you started to land in the fact that she may not have returned, and the person who knew about your relationship was slowly making their way to your room to deliver the bad news.

You couldn’t take the agonizing pain so you left your room to venture for some hot water – hoping a nice hot bath might allow your tense body to relax. If even in the smallest bit.

When you returned to your room, hot water acquired, you were surprised to discover that there was no one waiting outside your door, nor had you met someone on your walk to or from. It was strangely silent.

The bath basin sitting in the adjacent room to yours looked more and more inviting by the second and you sprang into action before the water in your hands turned cold.

Pouring the large water cans with hot water into the vessel, you pondered how it would be to bathe with Brienne. How it would be to have such calm intimacy with the person you loved more than anything in this world.

The thought made you the tiniest bit sad and even if you wanted to keep the image in your head for as long as you could, you knew it was better to think about something else for now until you knew that the fantasy was a possibility.

You filled the rest up with the cold water from the large bucket next to the basin so it would even out to a nice lukewarm temperature.

Just as you were about to take your clothes off, a knock on the door disrupted your actions and you nearly ran to the door to open it – desperate for any piece of information regarding Brienne.

When you opened the door, you were met by a face you knew all too well, only this time, it was covered in dried blood, grime, and dirt. “Brienne, oh, Gods.”

You reacted quickly by ushering her inside your room and closing the door after her. She didn’t say a single word and her eyes were empty – apathetic and void of any emotion.

You didn’t know if the blood was hers or not but there was only one way to find out.

Carefully, you sat her down on your bed and undid her sword belt and fur cape before you began removing each piece of her dark armor, sneaking eventual glances at her emotionless face, your heart breaking each time she did not even make a move to look at you. She just stared dead ahead.

Never had you seen her like this before.

When all her armor was discarded, you were hit with the stench of iron, sweat, and mud – the smell of what you assumed to be battle. You moved your attention to her gambeson and gloves, working fast to get everything off to assess her condition – if she had been injured or not.

You remained quiet throughout your entire undressing of your girlfriend, if Brienne wanted to talk – she would. You assumed she needed some silence to process everything and just enjoy being back in a safe location.

The moment her gambeson and the rest of her clothing had been removed - you took hold of her dirty hands to guide her up to a standing position. You raked your eyes over her body and found nothing except for more blood, most likely having run down her neck and invaded the skin protected by the armor.

“The blood is not mine,” Brienne croaked out. The sudden noise made you jolt, your eyes snapping up to meet her desolate ones.

“Right...,” you responded, her statement confirming that she was not wounded in a way that would warrant blood. With your worries settled, you guided her to the other room. You had poured the bath for yourself, but she needed it more.

Slowly, she stepped in, her hand in a steadfast grip in yours as she descended into a sitting position until her entire body was underneath the surface – releasing a sigh once the water enveloped her.

You let go of her hand and grabbed a bar of soap sitting on the table next to the basin and she let the hand you had previously been holding fall under the water as well.

Brienne sat in the basin, staring into nothingness – her breathing slow. You rolled up your sleeves, kneeled next to the tub, and submerged the bar in the warm water before you began gently cleaning her skin from the stench and the mud and blood that tainted her soft skin.

Starting with her face and neck, you used your hands to gently apply the soap and you observed the suds turning a brownish red as it mixed with the blood and dirt on her skin.

As your eyes scanned her face, you noticed that her disheveled blonde hair had also been soiled by blood spatter and dried mud.

“Close your eyes.” It was a gentle command, and Brienne complied – closing her eyes without question.

Using a cloth, you dunked it in the water and allowed it to soak before wringing it out – bringing it to Brienne’s face to wipe away the lather. You dipped it in the water again to rinse it, but you caught a glimpse of it before you did – the color of the froth alien on the white fabric.

With her face now clean, you moved on to her hair.

Normally you’d utilize your own mixed hair wash for this, but you didn't wish to leave Brienne in her current state to go and collect it. Soap would have to do.

Your movements were slow and calculated as you pressed gently on the bottom of her chin, signaling for her to lean her head back. Brienne complied and tilted her head back and you maneuvered yourself so you could have the perfect view needed to wash her dirtied hair.

Utilizing one of the jugs you had carried the water with, you dipped it in the water to fill it up and used it to wet Brienne’s straw blonde hair, going over it once or twice before you were confident that all the strands were permeated.

You grabbed the bar of soap once again and dragged it against the palm of your hand – getting a decent amount on it before placing the bar to the side and rubbing your hands together. Tenderly, you started massaging the soaping into her blonde curls and scalp, making sure that all the dirt and blood loosened from her locks.

Brienne hummed as your hands mildly rubbed her head – adoring the alleviating feeling it gave her. The feeling of comfort and security. Her eyes were still closed, and she could feel the corners of her lips twitch the tiniest bit as you pressed a kiss to her forehead before moving to fill the jug with water to rinse the soap out of her hair.

You worked softly and slowly when you combed your fingers through her locks – pouring the water over her hair as you did, making sure that all the lather was washed away.

With her hair, face, and neck clean – it was time to wash the rest of her body.

You moved away from the head of the basin and switched to sit at the side of it again, kneeling next to it. You grabbed the bar of soap and immersed your hand into the water that was starting to turn red at this point and started to cautiously drag the bar across Brienne’s chest – removing all the dried blood and dirt.

Whilst one of your hands was in the water, the other one rested on the rim of the basin, right next to Brienne’s ear, and before you knew it, you felt her leaning her head against it. A small smile started playing on your lips at the intimate position you had found yourselves in.

You had never experienced this type of closeness with your knight before – it was incredibly heart-warming and you wouldn’t complain if you found yourself in this position again; without the blood and dirt, of course.

Brienne’s head rested against the back of your hand at the same time as yours worked on washing her arms, hands, chest, stomach – anywhere you had seen dried signs of battle.

You enjoyed every single second of the casual intimacy. The fact that there were still new ways to be so deeply close even after so many months made you incredibly giddy inside even when the situation you discovered it in was somber.

Like it had the entire time, the only thing filling the silence in the room was the splashing of the water as it hit the sides with your hand continuing to move as it scrubbed Brienne’s skin. It remained like that for a very long time until the blonde woman opened her mouth to speak for the second time since she had come home. Your hand that was scrubbing her sides halted briefly before continuing - her voice surprising you. “Thank you.”

“For what?” You couldn’t help but inquire as to why she was thanking you. What you were doing right now only seemed like the most obvious choice. You took care of each other in any way the other person needed, and you were more than happy to offer her this small service.

She was quiet for a few seconds before she spoke again – her voice low, almost like a whisper. “For this... and for giving me a reason to keep fighting. It... It didn’t look very promising for a few moments, and I was... I was harboring the idea that I would never return to you again.”

You leaned forward to press a kiss to Brienne’s forehead as you continued scrubbing her skin beneath the surface of the water. “This is the least I can do for you... you take care of and for me every day. I wanted to return the favor. Thank you for coming back to me. And you’re welcome. I’m glad to provide you with a reason to keep fighting if it’ll bring you back to me each time.”

Brienne hummed and whined slightly when you removed your lips from her skin. To have someone care for her in the way you did made her feel so gleeful and she was so grateful for you and all you did for her. “Still... Thank you.”

“Anything for my knight.” You smiled as you washed her and finished your response – already knowing the next words coming out of her mouth.

The blonde woman chuckled slightly and silently, having had this exact interaction with you many times before. By now, she knew you did it as a way of making her smile and it worked; every single time. “I’m not a knight.”

“To me you are. You’re my knight.” You saw the smile that crept up on Brienne’s lips at hearing your words, even if she had heard them many times before at this point. “Besides, if you were a man, we both know you’d be a knight by now. You have the traits of a knight, so in my eyes, you are a knight. Even if you don’t have the title.”

Brienne adjusted her head to press a kiss to the back of your hand before returning to rest her cheek on it again. “You’re too nice to me. Thank you.”

“I only treat you in the way you deserve to be treated. Not my fault you’re such an incredible person.” You said this in a way that made Brienne smile and blush – something that you did with ease many times over the two years you had known the adorable knight. It only got worse once you began your relationship because it made you able to be more frank with your compliments.

The blonde didn’t offer a response to your words – silence filling the room once again. The way Brienne spoke about the battle, it seemed to have gone bad, so much so that she thought she wouldn’t make it. You knew she would talk to you about it if she needed to and you had no reason to ask but a part of you wondered what happened that caused her to see no hope.

The rest of the bath went by in tranquility, the occasional kiss on Brienne’s forehead and the planting of lips on your hand mixed with the comforting sounds of water making the second part of the experience a very pleasant one.

After helping Brienne out of the now red-stained water and planting her before the burning fire in the other room to dry with a fur wrapped around her, you told her to stay put before running as fast as you could to her room to collect her comb, and dry and clean clothes for her.

You didn't wish to leave her but the clothes she arrived in were bloody and dirty, and you knew Brienne would appreciate the gesture.

When you returned, she sat with her legs drawn up to her chest with her arms wound around them on the fur you had put on her.

You slowly approached her and sat down next to her – her folded clothes placed on your bed, the comb resting on the pile. “Hi.”

Her skin was dry now. Her hair was still a bit damp but you knew it wouldn’t be long until it was fully dried as well.

Brienne sighed and leaned her head against your shoulder. She stared into the crackling fire – the flames dancing in her beautiful blue eyes. “...Hi.”

“How are you feeling?” You wrapped an arm around her naked form and pulled her close to you. You had missed her so much and you were not ready to let go anytime soon except to get undressed to join her in bed.

“Better now... A little tired.” Brienne hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks, and she was exhausted at this point. The adrenaline had finally worn off completely and she felt the fatigue creep up on her like she had expected it to once she was back in your safe company.

“It’s getting late... Do you want to go to sleep? I will deal with the water tomorrow.” The sun had started setting as you were washing Brienne and it had been well below the horizon for a while now. You pressed a kiss to the top of the knight’s head and awaited her answer.

“Yes, please.” Brienne sat snuggly in front of the warm hearth, but she knew that it was much nicer to be in your embrace. It was warm, cozy, and oh-so-comfortable.

“Okay... Let’s get you covered and tucked in.” You stood up and began removing the things scattered about the bed. Brienne’s discarded armor, her dirty clothes, her cape, and her sword were swept off the mattress and placed on a round table close to the hearth. Her clean clothes and comb remained on the bed, and you squatted down next to her to lay a hand on her shoulder. “Do you want to get dressed?”

Brienne leaned her head against your hand and closed her eyes. “No. I want to feel you pressed against me entirely. I don’t want clothing to restrict me from sensing all of you.”

You almost melted from her sweet words. You rubbed your thumb against her skin, the pad of it grazing against the tip of one of her scars. “Alright, my sweet Brienne.”

The knight lifted her head from your hand and you slid it down her arm – leaving it to rest on her bicep. You gently rubbed it up and down as she opened her eyes and stood up.

You swiftly removed the pile that was on the bed and placed them on the table as well. You would have to comb her hair tomorrow instead.

With the bed empty, Brienne could pull off the furs and crawl in under them – covering her bare body and providing her with warmth and comfort for the first time in weeks.

She laid on her back as she watched you undress, folding your clothes and placing them on top of your trunk.

You finally crawled into bed and cuddled up next to Brienne, her skin incredibly soft. She hummed as you slung one arm and leg over her torso, bare skin against bare skin, and rested a hand on your thigh.

Her other arm went around your shoulders and pulled you closer – your head resting on her chest.

Her rhythmic heartbeat was a consistent reminder that she was indeed alive and still with you. After two months of being apart, the whole situation felt imaginary, but her steady heartbeat let you know that it was real – that she was indeed with you. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

Brienne’s hand on your thigh rested securely and her thumb drew soft lines across your skin. She smiled at your words as she kept her eyes closed to invite slumber. “It’s beating because and for you.”

Her words caused you to pull yourself even closer to her, which was impossible to do at this point. A smile and a blush crept up on your face, she always said the most adorable things and you had no idea what you did to deserve her love, but you were so thankful for her. “You’re sweet. I love you so much.”

Brienne chuckled quietly and you could tell she was close to falling asleep by her voice. “You bring out that side in me... what can I say? I love you, too. Thank you for being here when I returned.”

“I will always be here when you return,” you whispered. You were starting to feel the weeks of worried sleep catch up to you by now and you were more than ready to finally fall asleep in her embrace once again.

The only response Brienne gave was a hum and it fell silent after that.

You heard the knight’s breathing even out after a few minutes, and it signaled that she had fallen into a slumber that you hoped was a deep and restful one. You could only imagine the conditions she has been having to sleep in, and you couldn’t see them being comfortable.

You listened to her breathing and heartbeat for a few more seconds before sleep claimed you as well. Now back with a safe Brienne, you knew that you’d sleep incredibly well. You always did with her.

When you awoke the next morning, Brienne would kiss you all over to make up for two months of being away from one another. But that was up to you in the future to find out. Until then, you were more than happy to finally be with her again, and you remained clinging to your knight all night long.

------

taglist: @na-shoba, @pastanest, @the-fuck-do-i-know, @christies-fleur, @idontlikepexple, @lord6-6fandom, @sapphicmitski (can't tag you for some reason)

#gwendoline christie #brienne of tarth #brienne x reader #brienne of tarth x reader

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nolita-fairytale · 3 months

Text

bad moon rising | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader

summary: in another lifetime, you meet mikey berzatto by chance one halloween night in nyc.

or, the fic based on this headcanon

warnings: angst, use of she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, second person pov, drug usage, high mikey b, swearing, family drama, depression, not a happy ending

wc: 3.7k

a/n: i wrote about grief again. shocking, i know. thank you all for your interest based on the headcanon it came from and thank you for your patience. i wanted so badly to post this around halloween and have been sitting on it since the better part of last year as one of my wips. finally, finally, it's here!! i took a slightly different approach than the headcanon, but i think it still does it justice. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the carmy taglist.

this what-if fic takes place october 2021 because it's make my heart surrender-canon that mikey and reader never met; reader x carmy are best friends and colleagues but it has not gone further than that.

masterlist

Halloween, in another lifetime:

“Can I get hands, please!” Carmy shouts out to the entire kitchen, only to be met with a strong chorus of ‘hands’ in response.

His team works together like a well-oiled machine; a tight run ship, led by a captain near-suffocated under the weight of the chip on his shoulder.

“Chef!” you hear the sound of your general manager’s voice ring through the kitchen, causing many a-heads to turn. She rarely comes into the kitchen during dinner service unless it’s serious. Her eyes lock with Carmy’s as he looks up from his expo, as if she’s about to deliver bad news.

His mind races through the possibilities, preparing to solve the next oncoming crisis. Could it be an undercooked steak? An overcooked duck breast? Another complaint of ‘too salty’ or ‘underseasoned?’

“Chef, you uh… you have a visitor,” she says instead–the last thing he expects to hear.

A visitor?

“Wh-?”

“Someone’s here to see you. Says he’s your… brother??” Carmy’s ears begin to burn, as he searches for your face amidst the chaos, your gaze there to catch him even from across the kitchen. Your presence feels reassuring, like a strong man in a storm. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s knee deep into service and he cannot get the sound of tickets being added to the expo out of his head. He opens his mouth to say something but he’s uncertain any words come out of his mouth, unsure of what he’d even say. You send him a reassuring nod, and it’s as if in one look, you’ve made the decision to go.

“Chef, you good?” Carmy hears you ask the head pastry chef.

“Yeah, we got it. But don’t take too long,” she answers with a curt nod of approval.

He watches as you nod again, this time in recognition of your boss’ answer, as you pull the food-grade nitrile gloves off of your hands, discarding them in the nearby trash can. Without a word, you follow Kate closely behind, exchanging a few words with her as the two of you disappear to the front of house. There’s a war inside of Carmy as he watches you go–a pang of guilt and a feeling of relief–that whatever it is, you’ve agreed to take care of it.

In all of the years that he’s been in New York, no one’s come to see him–the possibility of it happening now, let alone as a surprise, feels improbable.

Must be a prank or some shit….

It couldn’t really be Michael, could it?

As you seek out the answer, your feet carrying you faster than you anticipated, you realize that you’re searching for a face you’ve only seen in photographs. Kate follows closely behind while you push through the front door of the restaurant only to find a man pacing just outside of the restaurant, a ghostface mask in hand. You can tell he’s been sweating, the circles under his eyes just as dark as the ones you’ve become so familiar with in Carmy, with an anxious look in his eyes as his gaze turns towards you.

He’s certainly not the larger-than-life older brother you’ve seen in the sparse amount of pictures that Carmy’s shown you.

“I got this, Kate,” you mutter over your shoulder with a confident nod, letting your general manager know that you’re good on your own. “You sure?” she asks you quietly.

“I’m sure,” you answer, watching as a disappointed look spread across Michael’s face as soon as he sees that:

“You’re not Carmen.”

“Uh… no. I’m not,” you reply, hearing the front door to the restaurant close behind you. The man swears under his breath, and you watch as face changes from disappointment to annoyance quickly, as you try your best to come up with an explanation that may satisfy him. “He uh… he can’t come out. Not right now. So he sent me.”

Michael scoffs with a shake of his head, his eyebrows quickly rising and falling incredulously as he takes another drag off his cigarette.

“Shit... the guy can't even make time to see his big brother?" he asks, the annoyance obvious in his voice this time.

You take a step towards him, your arms folded across your chest.

“I’m sorry. I-, I don't think he was expecting you,” you answer, much more compassionately this time.

“Right,” Michael mumbles, barely loud enough for you to hear. You watch as he throws the butt of his cigarette down on the pavement, before stamping it out.

“It’s just-. He would if he could. I know it. It's just a busy night. I-... we're doing 200 covers tonight and uh... well, he runs the kitchen so,” you try again, and you can practically feel the disappointment (and resentment) burying itself deeper in Michael.

“Yeah, no thanks, lady. You don’t need to explain it to me. Jagoff can’t even make time to say ‘hi’ to his brother. Sends you to do his dirty work instead,” Michael dismisses you, bitterly.

He takes a beat. And then another, as if he’s accepted that he’s not going to see Carmy after all.

“Why don’t you come inside? I’m sure-,” you offer, taking another step towards him.

“‘S alright, sweetheart,” he dismisses you again, this time gentler. “You don’t need to make up for his bullshit.”

You open your mouth to say something—anything in defense of Carmy—but you’re certain that nothing you have to say will be enough for your best friend’s older brother (save for Carmy coming out here himself).

With a nod, you accept defeat, turning to go back inside. But there’s something that stops you—like you just can’t just go back inside without trying to remedy the situation one last time. This time all you say is:

“I don’t know how long you’re in town for but… we should be off by midnight.”

Michael only offers you a sympathetic smile before you slip back inside.

—---------------------------------------

It’s not until you and Carmy are packing up your things to head home that he brings it up—his mysterious visitor—hesitant to ask the question that’s been eating at him all night.

“So uh… was it really him? Michael?” he asks you, cautiously, as he watches your face carefully for any kind of reaction.

“Uh… yeah. I mean, at least the guy I recognized from your pictures,” you reply, hoping that the answer (or the fact that he missed his brother) won’t break his heart.

A beat.

“What’d he want?” Carmy asks, trying to mask his curiosity as best as possible.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “Seems like he found himself in the city. I didn’t ask. I didn’t… know if you wanted me to.”

Carmy tries again.

“Oh no. It’s-, no I didn’t-, no, it’s okay.”

He takes his time, making up his mind about what he wants to say next.

“It’s weird, right? Guy can barely pick up the phone to say hello but… he can show up unannounced and just like-, expect me to drop everything?” he asks you—the look in his eyes telling you that his mind is miles away.

“I- I don’t know, Carmy,” you reply, heavily. “Are you… do you wish you had gone instead of me?”

Carmy’s quiet as he follows you out of the back door of the restaurant, thinking his answer over.

“I don’t know,” he answers slowly, a lack of confidence as the words fall out of his mouth. “Maybe?”

He’s not sure how he’s supposed to feel and right now he just feels… ambushed, which only makes him want to shut down.

Instead, Carmy changes the subject back to your post-work plans, the two of you debating what kind of post-shift late night meal you’re going to have before settling on a few slices of pizza on the way back to your place. You and Carmy cut through the alley to the front of the restaurant so that you can begin your late-night sojourn, and it’s only when he spots something odd that he stops you.

“What the fuck?” Carmy cuts you off, holding an arm out in front of you to stop you from walking any further.

You follow his line of sight right over to a figure moving towards the both of you. In the brief glimpse you’ve gotten of the person moving towards you, all you can see is a quick flash of the ghostface mask they hold in their hands as a bus drives by, obstructing your view.

Carmy’s heart stops, fear filling his chest as the bus speeds by, the person getting closer and closer until…

“Michael?!” Carmy shouts, squinting as he sees the man approach. His expression of pure shock leaves his jaw agape, rendering him speechless as he scrambles to try to find better words that:

“What-, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Shit,” Michael scoffs playfully, with a chuckle, his breath uneven from the light jogging pace he’d kept. Michael takes note of the arm his younger brother’s extended, shielding you from him. “What? Can’t your big brother come surprise ya in the big city?”

Carmy shoots him a look that says, ‘when have you ever done that’ and Michael nods knowingly, his eyebrows quickly raising, then lowering as he makes peace with the fact that he’s never been that guy.

“Me and Deb… we came up for the weekend,” Mikey admits with a heavy sigh. “Tried to do something nice for her but, you know, broad’s been a real bitch-.”

“Mikey,” Carmy warns, taking a tone you recognize—the kind he uses when he’s going to yell at the saucier for a broken mornay.

“Right,” Mike course corrects at the volume of a mumble, heaving a heavy, yet disarming sigh.

Carmy nods slowly as he allows some part of him to relax, his arm falling away from you as the two of you exchange a look.

“We uh…. Got into another fight. She’s on her way back to Chicago now,” Mikey explains, the disappointment evident in his voice this time, almost as if it were an apology.

“Sorry,” Carmy mutters quietly, as you exchange a look with him.

“Nah it’s-, she’ll get over it,” Mikey brushes off with a shrug, his tone shifting as he extens an arm out to you.

“Fuck, where are my manners? I never properly introduced myself earlier. I’m Mikey. Mikey Berzatto,” he grins with a charm and confidence that’s been absent in both of your interactions with him till now. The smile that spreads across his face is contagious as he looks from you to Carmy, then back to you. “Shit. I’m sorry. ‘M fuckin’ jagoff, interupting your night like this. I should probably get-.”

“No!” you protest, almost too quickly, earning a look from Carmy. “We weren’t-, we were just getting off work and were gonna grab a bite. Maybe even… a drink?” you suggest, a hopefulness in your eyes as you turn towards Carmy.

“Yeah?” Michael asks, his interest piqued.

“Uhm. Just gonna grab a bite actually,” Carmy forces out, sending a glare in your direction.

“You know what’s crazy? I know a spot. With food. And drinks,” you challenge him, silently begging him to just go with it.

“You cool with that, Carm?” Mike asks this time, looking from you to his younger brother once more. It’s the first time that Carmy thinks Michael’s ever looked to him for approval.

Carmy’s quiet for a moment, torn between wanting to burn it all down or declare a gleeful ‘yes’ because at least Mikey wants to spend time with him.

“Um. Uh. Yeah. Yeah okay,” Carmy finally agrees.

“Alright, let’s fuckin’ do it!” Mikey rallies.

And as he turns to go, your voice instructing him that it’s only a few blocks from here, you and Carmy fall into stride, just a few steps behind Mikey.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Carmy threatens you—though there’s no weight to it—through gritted teeth.

You shove him playfully, bumping your shoulder against his side as the two of you walk, answering with a promise that: “You’ll thank me later.”

—---------------------------------------

You sit on one side of Carmy, Mikey on the other, and you can see why Carmy looks at his older brother like he hung the sun, the moon, and the stars above. There’s something different about Michael—something different than when you met him just hours ago outside of the restaurant—as he corrals the three of you into a round of shots.

As the shots of tequila arrive at the bar, Carmy dismisses his, his attention fixed to the still-full whiskey on the rocks he’d ordered earlier, just to appease his older brother. He watches you carefully as you and Mikey clink glasses before throwing back your own respective shots.

“Carm?” Mikey asks, nodding towards the third, untouched shot glass.

Carmy hesitates.

“It’s fine. I’ll take his,” you jump in, half as an attempt to give Carmy the out he so desperately desires, and half because, admittedly, meeting the great Mikey Berzatto makes you a little nervous.

Before anyone can protest, you reach out, picking up the shot glass, before tapping it down against the bar top, fearlessly throwing it back. Michael watches you with a sense of amusement, as your face crinkles in response to the sting of the liquor and the bitterness of the lime you chase it with.

He smirks, sharing a knowing look with his younger brother that says, “I like this girl,” which in turn only causes Carmy to blush. Before Mikey can say anything more, the song that blares through the speakers changes, earning his attention as he hears the familiar words:

“I see the bad moon a-risin' I see trouble on the way I see earthquakes and lightnin' I see bad times today”

“Alright, alright. Think it’s a little too on the nose if I admit that I love this song? On Halloween? C’maaaaaahn,” Mikey asks, almost as if it’s a confession in reference to the easily recognizable Creedance Clearwater revival hit.

“No! No, I love this song,” you’re quick to assuage his hesitation as your eyes light up in response to his recognition.

“You got good taste, kid,” Michael notes confidently, winking in his brother’s direction. “I like this girl, Carm.”

Only this time, he says it out loud. Carmy only shakes his head, the blush already running across his cheeks taking a deeper shade of red.

“Yeah, yeah. Uh. You both uh.. Like music,” Carmy smiles, gesturing from you to his brother. At least this is going a lot better than he expected it to, he reminds himself.

“Oh yeah?” Michael asks, clearly intrigued.

“Oh that’s right!” you exclaim, simultaneously. The excitement that brews within you has you stumbling over your words as you manage to get out:

“You’re-, oh my god! The Lennon jacket!”

“What?” Mike asks, shooting you a funny look.

“I’m sorry. I just-. I realize I’m not-,” you stammer over your words, trying your best to explain your earlier exclamation over your own excitement.

“You gave Carmy the denim jacket – the 1950s selvedge Wrangler!”

“Just like the-,” Michael starts, the two of you finishing his sentence at once with:

“... just like the one John Lennon had!”

“Marry this girl, Carm. Marry her right now. Tonight! Or I will,” Michael encourages, slapping his hand down against the bar. He speaks with so much bravado and conviction that you can only imagine that there was none left for Carmy. “Fuckin’ christ. I never should’ve let you two meet,” Carmy groans on an exasperated exhale as he shakes his head once again.

“Oh c’mon, Carm,” Mikey rouses him, with a playful eye roll.

“It’s totally my favorite jacket of his! I-, well, it’s a long story but we actually became friends over the jacket because he spilled a drink on me and-,”

“Ahhh real smooth.”

“No! No, it was okay, I promise. I-, I don’t know if we would’ve gotten to know each other if he hadn’t so-. Call it a lucky jacket, I guess,” you smile, stealing a look in Carmy’s direction. He shoots the smallest smile back to you, cognizant of the fact that Mikey’s observing the entire interaction.

As you begin to tell Michael the story about the aforementioned Lennon jacket, it could be minutes, hours, or days that pass, once you and Mikey finish trading facts about music like they’re trivia cards. It’s almost as entertaining as watching Mikey and Carmy go at it, bouncing facts about the history of denim like you’re at the French Open.

You excuse yourself to the restrooms—partially because you really have to pee and partially because it seems like this evening is going well—wanting to give both brothers some time alone. And as soon as you’re out of earshot, Mikey’s on Carmy like an FBI Investigation.

“This your girl, Carm, or what?" he asks with a casualness to his voice that sets off alarms in Carmy’s head.

"Mikey, stop it,” Carmy dismisses him, hoping more than anything for this to be the end of the conversation.

Instead, Mikey scoffs, shaking his head as he downs another shot.

"Then at least tell me you're hittin' that."

“Michael!" Carmy hushes his brother, a warning and protectiveness in his voice this time.

"Are you fuckin' serious right now, Bear?” Michael pushes further. “What, you're telling me you're not when she’s walkin’ around in your jacket, talkin’ about wearing your clothes to your big brother and I’m supposed to think-?"

"She's not!” Carmy cuts him off. “She doesn’t do-, she’s.... my friend. Jus’ give it up alright.”

"Shit. Wish I had a friend like that. Ya friends, kid, or are ya... you know... friends?" Mikey smirks, earning a venomous glare from his younger brother.

Carmy shakes his head in response, jaw clenched, as he stares down at the bar top, a feeling inside of him that he doesn’t like when he even thinks about Mikey looking at you like that.

"Shit, I thought I taught you better than that, Bear."

There it is again.

That feeling.

He’s not sure how to name it, but it’s enough to make Carmy want to deck his brother right then and there as it rises inside of him.

"I'm serious, Mike. We’re just friends,” Carmy spits out. He’s much more serious this time. “Cut it out."

But Michael’s too quick, his voice growing louder as he interjects on the tail end of Carmy’s insistence.

"Oh come on! The chick's smokin' fuckin' hot. And I can tell that you like her. I'm not blind, Carm. I see the way you-."

And if it’s as if something snaps inside of Carmy as he exclaims:

"Don't talk to me like you know what's going on in my life! Fuck!"

"Carm-."

"Can't even pick up the damn phone and then you just... waltz into town acting like everything is okay?!” he fumes, standing up out of his chair.

His face grows redder with each word, and it only confirms Mikey’s suspicions: that his little brother is absolutely a goner for you. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Carmy like this and he’s torn between feeling proud of his kid brother or pissed that the kid’s turning this around on him.

"Well, if you ever bothered to come home. You know mom's been askin' about you since you never fuckin’-,” Mikey roars, eager to relinquish the hotseat here.

“Oh don't bring mom into this!" Carmy protests.

It’s your voice that snaps him out of it—brings him back to earth as he hears you ask:

“Everything okay?”

Carmy can practically hear his heart pounding away in his ears; can feel the blood rushing through his head as he takes a deep breath. He swallows, takes a beat, then turns to you.

“Yeah uh. I think we should go,” he states, his voice uneven and tense as you try to get a read on either brother.

“Uh… yeah, I guess we can-, um,” you stammer out, wondering how things went from good to hell in a matter of minutes. Carmy mutters something about getting your stuff as you try your best to put the pieces together.

“It was uh, nice to meet you, Mikey,” you say softly, as soon as you get your coat on.

“Yeah. You too, sweetheart,” he nods, something distant in his voice. Carmen scoffs at his brother’s usage of the word before tugging on your arm.

You wait a beat, in anticipation of some kind of goodbye between the brothers, but there is none as you follow Carmy out of the bar.

—---------------------------------------

Halloween, again — in this lifetime:

When Carmy comes to, he can hear the faint sounds of an episode of Pasta Grannies in the background, uncertain of what time it is.

“Hey, you. You fell asleep on the couch and I didn’t have the heart to wake you up,” you say, as he begins to sit up. Carmy blinks his eyes a few more times, watching as you make your way from the kitchen island over to the couch, taking a seat at his feet.

“Did you still want to watch a scary movie? You know, in the spirit of the holiday?” you ask him with a soft chuckle.

All Carmy can remember before falling asleep was what he was thinking about: what it would be like if you had met Mikey. It’s something he thinks of often, especially as the two of you grow closer—as your relationship gets more serious—and it’s something he hates that he’ll never be able to give to you.

“This was his favorite holiday,” Carmy manages to get out, the sleep heavy in his voice.

You’re not all that surprised. Carmy’s been on edge lately and you assumed it was because Mikey’s birthday’s coming up. But this… this makes sense too.

“I wish I could’ve met him,” you smile, reaching out for one of his hands.

Carmy nods.

“Yeah. Uh. Yeah. Think he would’ve loved you.”

Maybe a little too much, he thinks to himself.

“You think so?” you ask with a vulnerability and a desire for reassurance that catches Carmy off guard.

He nods with much more confidence this time, offering you a soft, sympathetic smile.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I know so.”

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balletfilmss · 22 days

Text

DISTANCE MAKES THE HEART GROW ANGRIER

✸ pairing: jason grace x daughter of minerva! reader

✸ summary: you don’t know anything about jason anymore, except for the fact that you hate him for leaving

✸ warnings: kinda angsty…BUT I SWEAR THERE’S FLUFF AT THE END!! hurt / comfort type, & i think i swore like twice whoopsie

✸ notes: this might be my longest fic yet, hello? i mean, that’s not saying much but STILL

you didn’t know much about jason grace as of lately. it was true that there once was a time that even the smallest of scratches on his skin weren’t a mastery to you, a time when you knew him better than you knew yourself.

until six months ago, when he disappeared without a trace and left you all alone.

as a daughter of minerva, you’d never had many friend to begin with aside from the two praetors of new rome, for your skills and intellect set you apart from your fellow members of the legion and as leader of the first cohort, you were high up in the ranks anyways.

but now, six months later, you found yourself filling the post of second praetor not because you wanted to, but because you had to. the weight of the world had fallen upon your shoulders in only a fortnight

then, percy jackson had appeared.

you’d given him the position you held graciously, but it did nothing to repair the damage done that caused you to be emotional and physically strung out beyond relief.

you didn’t know much about jason grace anymore, except for the fact that you hated him, and unlike reyna, would not be welcoming him back with open arms when he arrived at camp jupiter as percy said he would.

and arrive he did, aboard a flying warship with three other demigods you’d never seen in your life.

while percy, reyna, and the rest of the legion welcomed them in with open arms, you were nowhere to be found.

jason’s eyes scanned the crowd over and over again and each time failed to find just the face he was looking for.

ever since his memories had been returned, the son of jupiter had been driving himself crazy with anticipation to see you again.

the curve of your soft lips and spark in your eyes; the flex of you muscles as you fought and the amused quirk of your brow when you inevitably won. he remembered it all and he missed it all so much that he thought it just might suffocate him. to him, every minute without you was another minute closer to asphyxiation.

fortunately, even after six months, you were still the same girl he had always known. the same one who would tie her shoe laces with two loops instead of one and always had to step out the door with her left foot first.

the same girl who knew him better than himself, and who he knew just as well.

so when he walked into your typical getaway spot, you couldn’t really say you were surprised.

hidden and tucked away in the corner of the new rome library you sat, a book you could’ve even say the name of propped open in front of you just in case someone came in and you needed to look occupied.

you hadn’t read a word since you’d gotten in there, for your brain was too busy reeling with thoughts about the boy who was now sliding his way through the front door to the library in search of you.

you heard footsteps enter the otherwise pen-drop silent room and darted your eyes to the page of your book, resting your face in your hand and letting hair fall over your face in hopes it might cover you up and by some miracle, conceal your identity.

but unfortunately for you, jason would know you anywhere.

he stopped in his tracks when his eyes fell on you, his darling girl hiding away in a corner, trying to disguise herself from the world. you weren’t in your official centurion getup like everyone else, but instead jeans and a purple camp jupiter t-shirt that exposed the four lines scored across your arm.

four years. four years that you had known jason, and four years that had been stolen from him just like that.

“yn?” he uttered, asking even though he knew for certain that it was you.

you didn’t answer, just flipped the page of the book you weren’t reading. it bruised his heart a little bit, but he expected nothing less ever since your absence at the welcome party.

he walked closer, testing the water in hopes that you’d at least spare him a glance up. when you didn’t even give him that much, he crossed the room fully until he was standing in front of the table you sat at.

“i braced myself when reyna told me you were mad, but i didn’t expect for you to ignore my existence entirely,” he told you after the silence became too much to bear.

with a huff, you snapped your book dramatically shut and looked up at him, avoiding eye contact and making yourself seem as uninterested as you could possibly scrounge up.

for the first time in months, you took in the beautiful sight that was jason grace. he looked almost the same, with his starry eyes and pretty smile. except he was dressed in a eye-stabbingly bright orange shirt that read camp half-blood on it and was seemingly a size too small, considering how it distractingly hugged his biceps a little too snugly.

he still looked like him, but if he was masquerading around as someone he wasn’t. a son of zeus and not jupiter. a quest leader and not a praetor. a teenage boy, not a soldier.

“library’s closed, and you don’t have authorization to override that rule anymore,” you told him bluntly. “or did you forget how to read, too?”

“okay, ouch,” he nodded, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans to stop himself from fidgeting. but that was the girl he knew: assertive and naturally bossy, for lack of a better word. a true leader, just like himself.

“i’m trying to read, leave,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes off of his.

“i know you’re not reading that,” he rolled his eyes, knowing that you didn’t see it became if you had, he would’ve been chided.

“yes, i am.” you insisted, reopening the book.

“sweetheart,” he sighed, pushing the cover shut again and pointing to the bleary title. “it’s in italian. which if i remember correctly, you don’t speak.”

your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but you were mad at him, gods damn it, and you were gonna act like it.

slamming the book down, you pushed yourself to your feet and began towards the door, not giving him the decency of another word.

poor jason didn’t know what was going on. he didn’t know why you were acting this way or why he didn’t get the overwhelming joy of you running to his arms like annabeth had percy’s. no, instead you ran off at the mention of him and refused to meet his eyes.

he’d lost six months with you, and briefly lost the memories of all four years of you, there was no way he was going to lose you now too.

the fear of losing you— all of you— for good had a grip on him so tight that it made him catch your wrist with his hand before you could leave, and the touch of your skin against his sent a refreshing shock through his senses. one chance was all he needed to make sure you didn’t slip through his fingers again.

“don’t go,” he said. “please. i— i don’t really know what’s wrong, but i know that i want to and that i want to fix it.”

for the first time again, your eyes met his. but where his were soft and concerned, yours were glassy and inflamed.

“you don’t know?” you glowered loudly, voice echoing in the silent and empty library, eyes holding angry tears. “jason, you left me! and for months, i tried to figure out what was wrong with me that made you do it, until everyone reminded me that it doesn’t matter what i think or how i feel, because there’s people to take care of and responsibilities to handle.”

jason stared at you, all the things he’d planned to say suddenly lost as he processed your broken words.

“and yeah, i know now that it was all juno, but by the time i was told, everything had already changed too much.”

“too much?” he questioned, looking down at you like a wounded puppy and yanking on your heartstrings.

it wasn’t his fault, none of it was. the involuntary leaving, the memories being wiped, the identity shattering feeling of being an amnesiac. it was all juno and her twisted plans and jason was just a victim of it, and you knew that.

but he had forgotten you once, so what would stop him from doing so again? or worse, what if he had gotten all these memories of you back and the fresher version of his mind had decided that you just weren’t worth it anymore? maybe you never were.

you were just protecting yourself, your heart.

at first when he left, you’d prayed every night he’d come back, wished on every shooting star and dandelion. but then you were forced to accept that no, he wasn’t coming back and somebody had to step up. you had to step up.

it hurt so hard to have your life flipped upside down and take on more than you could even imagine, you just couldn’t do it again.

who’s to say that the minute you let him back in, he wasn’t going to be ripped right away again?

“too much.” you restated. “before percy showed up, i was filling your position and holding my own. all while people either asked me what happened to you or looked at me like i was some poor, little wounded deer, and helping reyna keep everything from falling apart, and with fucking octavian breathing down my neck! and the whole time i couldn’t think of anything but you, and your stupid…you!”

you groaned and shoved your face in your hands to hide the tears that had already started falling, the frustration becoming too much.

slowly, jason put a hand on your shoulder and pulled you into his chest, to which you let yourself slowly collapse into his embrace, your hands the only barrier between your face and his chest.

he wrapped his arms around you carefully like he’d done many times before, rocking back and forth as a silent attempt to calm you. he felt a little guilty for enjoying the feeling of you in his arms again, given the circumstances.

“i’m sorry,” you whimpered into the cotton fabric of his ugly orange shirt. “it’s not your fault. and you don’t deserve to be yelled at or ignored. i’m so sorry.”

“it’s okay,” he murmured into your hair. “i’m sorry for letting you think there was ever anything that could make me want to leave you. and, i’m sorry for not remembering everything sooner.”

you must’ve looked pretty damn rough for him to be apologizing that his memories were stolen by a goddess.

“you really remember?” you whispered into his chest, scared that if you said it too loudly the answer might change.

“yeah,” he answered, picking his head up off yours and tapping the back of your head to draw you out of his chest.

you didn’t go far, looking up at him while still in his arms, tear-streaked face and all.

“there she is,” he mused. “there’s my pretty girl.”

the frown on your face deepened at that, purely because your face was surely red and covered in tears, and he decided to compliment it anyways.

“everything? you remember it all?” you sniffed.

“everything.” he confirmed. “like how this is where you go when you’re stressed,” he dipped his head down and kissed your cheek.

“and your favorite color’s light blue,” he kissed your other cheek. “and you prefer mystery books to romance,” your forehead. “and i even remember the time i tied your shoe for you and got kicked in the face in exchange.” your nose.

you were eye-to-eye now, drowning in oceanic blue surrounding his blown-up pupils.

a small giggle passed your lips at the last anecdote, pressing a nostalgic smile onto your lips. “i missed you,” you admitted.

“i missed you too,” he said. “can i have a kiss now?”

you smiled and pulled his face to yours, capturing his familiar and dearly missed lips with your own. after all the fussing and fighting you’d done, he could have as many kisses as he wanted.

#୨୧ love letters #jason grace x reader #jason grace x fem!reader #jason grace x y/n #jason grace oneshot #jason grace x you #jason grace imagine #jason grace #heroes of olympus x reader #heroes of olympus #hoo #hoo x you #hoo x reader #pjo hoo toa #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo fandom #x reader

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jorvikzelda · 3 months

Text

So. Star Stable's Spotify header.

I saw this on a little trip to SSO's Spotify page to see if they'd released any music without announcing it again and went hm. This looks kind of weird. I sure hope they haven't stooped so low as to use AI for their promo material. And then I looked closer.

First thing I noticed was the stirrups. Or, should I say... "stirrups".

Did they like... employ someone who doesn't know how tack works? What IS that? Also I'm only noticing this as I'm writing the post but why on earth does the boot not have proper laces or eyelets

And what the fuck are these weird straps on the saddle? And the guitar straps aren't attached to the guitar?? Actually... it can't be... but let me look at the hands. Just real quick

Uh. hm. that's not very hand. Are they fucking using AI

OH BOY.

The bit and the reins are... not properly attached to one another, just welded together. The noseband just disappears. The buckles at the top of the bridle don't really exist and the chin strap doesn't fit properly at all. The reins are double on one side, but not the other, and one or both of the reins on the far side almost look attached to the breast collar - or they're just being held a lot looser than the near side rein. Also, you need a very specific type of bit to use double reins, which is not the type of bit that's on this bridle. Or maybe the two weird straps are supposed to be a fucked up martingale, and that's why they're attached to the breast collar? But then why does the horse only have one rein? Also the martingale is attached wrong if that's what it's meant to be, see below (it's never attached directly to the bit). The breast collar is also attached to the underside of the saddle, rather than the saddle itself like it should be. The horse's front shoulder looks like it's drawn by someone who doesn't know very much about horse anatomy, or... y'know... AI.

The cart isn't fucking attached to the fucking horse. Poor guy is dragging that thing along with one singular back leg.

The keyboards all have the wrong number of black keys in the wrong places. And also those knobs do not look right. Oh, and something is DEFINITELY wrong with that drum kit.

And also just look at this fucking horse. Yeah, it's passable as a horse, but have you seen the quality of SSO's horses and horse art??? This isn't even anywhere CLOSE to that

So yeah uh, SSE used fucking AI art for their spotify banner. I feel like this is the greatest punch in the gut they could've possibly sent their laid-off artists' way. You cannot defend this.

#z talks #ssoblr #sso #sso neg

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vhstown · 8 months

Text

time out (part 1)

[boxer au] — 42!miles g morales x gn!reader

summary: Miles Morales makes boxing history. Your boyfriend isn't there to celebrate.

warnings: angst-ish, description of (boxing) injuries, self-destructive behaviours, briefly implied death, pov switch (yay), gtranslate spanish

word count: 3.9k

a/n: ive never written 42 miles before but he's a cool lil guy split into two parts cuz it was too long 😭 semi-edited (for the millionth time)

PART 2 → / THE AU

"Just six rounds in, Miles Morales knocks out the Vulture!"

Screams and cheers exploded from your phone as you laid in bed, watching the recap of your boyfriend's boxing match. Your eyes were straining from how close you were holding the screen to your face; this was probably the third time you’d watched Miles’ win. After training to hell and back, he’d made it to the national league with you and Aaron to support him. He did more than just “make it”, in fact. His “revolutionary” victory was plastered all over social media and the news. Everywhere you looked was: “17-YEAR-OLD NYC BOXER OVERTAKES LIGHTWEIGHT CHAMPION ‘VULTURE’ IN US NATIONALS”. Miles Morales — your boyfriend — had made boxing history.

The giddy grin on your face only grew wider as he came up again on screen, sporting the stoic expression he'd perfected over the last few months behind the overly-done editing and animations of the recap. As much as you'd wanted to go out and see him live (though begging your family to let you go to Vegas wasn’t exactly feasible), he'd made it clear he didn't want you, or anyone for that matter, in that arena. It was something about having "total focus" — and it must've worked, you thought, as you watched him give his post-fight interview.

“I jus’ hope you watchin’, cause I’m here. Miles Morales made it!”

Despite his boyish, adrenaline-fuelled shout at the mic, the quiet laugh you let out was one of pride rather than embarrassment. He had every right to celebrate, and you were watching, even if it wasn’t live. Everything he'd done up until this point was well worth it: the constant training, sparring, the late nights and early mornings — maybe even the countless unanswered texts and missed calls too. Miles had worked himself to the bone, and while it might've worried you at the time, it was nothing compared to the satisfaction you felt while watching him on screen. He knew what he was doing; Miles was semi-professional at this point. You had to let him do his own thing, even if that meant letting him go for a while.

Right now, though, Miles was home from Vegas. Tapping out of the video, you scrambled to your messages. The last ones were from you, sent weeks ago, a "good luck" and "i love you" read and without a response. Your fingers kept missing the keys, and you frowned at yourself until you finally were able to hit send.

CONGRATS BABY!!! Not delivered

IM SO PROUD OF YOU Not delivered

You tried resending them, only to be met with the same red message.

why arent my texts sending Not delivered

miles??? Not delivered

Not delivered? It'd almost been three days since the tournament; Miles always had his phone on.

"To leave a message, please press one—" The call went to voicemail for the third time. Your stomach swirled with something like uncertainty. It didn't even ring at all. Miles made it a habit to always be available, so why...?

Boxers needed time to recover, he was probably just tired and turned his phone off. Or he could be busy with an interview; Miles Morales was sort of a celebrity right now — who wouldn't want to talk to the 17-year-old boxing prodigy? You knew you wanted to, prodigy or not.

It was probably because you hadn’t seen Miles in so long, but possibilities kept forming in your head, disappearing just as fast. What if he blocked you? Or he could’ve changed his number. Were you over? No. Nope. No way. Not like this.

There was one other reason that made some sort of sense, but you decided to think against it. Miles had made it to the semi-finals in entire the National League. It was over; he'd gotten what he wanted. He was supposed to be resting right now.

Miles wasn't that stupid, right...?

You pulled up Rio's contact. It was better to be safe than sorry.

Riiiiiiing, riiiiiiing…

Better for him to be safe than sorry — or stupid.

"Hello?"

"Hola, tía, uh, could I speak to Miles?" You felt just a little crazy as you held the phone to your ear, but there was no harm in calling his mom.

"Ah, he's not home right now — said he was going out with his tío."

"Oh… Do you know where they went?"

"I'm not sure. Something important. About a... contract?"

"Contract…?" you muttered to yourself. “Okay… thank you.” It wasn't like you knew anything about a contract, though it wasn't like Miles would tell you anyway. At least he was safe, and with Aaron. It was probably important, official — something that didn't involve you. Not a lot of things in Miles’ life involved you, it seemed.

"How have you been?” Rio's voice interrupted your thoughts. You had called her out of nowhere, and after a while. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Oh, um..." The last time you'd talked to Rio was… right before Miles had left for Vegas. Well, you hadn't exactly talked. All you remember is just comforting her in silence. "Yeah, tía. Have you?"

"I have, but I've just been all over the place recently. So many reporters…" Rio's voice lifted up slightly in exasperation. You could only imagine what it was like for her. Your feelings suddenly felt a lot less significant, and you were back to your comforting mode all over again.

"I see. Must be exhausting." You attempted a polite laugh, which came out more like a sigh. If only you could be as patient as Rio…

"I'm so proud, though." Her voice warmed with a smile. If your chest ached with melancholy or empathy, you didn't know. "I didn't want him to leave home so soon. I still think this whole… professional thing is a bit too much, but… I want to trust him also."

"I'm sure he'll be fine, tía. If he's in the nationals already, he's probably getting a lot of support." It was more like you were trying to convince yourself. "I'm sure he has great coaches... and he's got me and Aar— uh, his uncle, too."

"I know…" For a moment, you weren't sure if either of you had anymore to say.

"…If not, I'll have to go there myself and give them a piece of my mind, eh?" she continued. You weren’t sure if it was a joke, but a smile formed on your lips anyway.

"Yeah…" A quiet laugh leaving your mouth at the image of Rio cussing out Miles' poor manager, in two languages no less. No wonder he was such a good boxer — Rio must have passed down her fighting spirit. "Maybe you'd even get signed,” you joked, the image of that even more amusing (and a scary possibility.)

Rio let out her own laugh, and your smile only grew; talking to her always made you feel better. "Me? Boxing? Nunca (Never.) — I'll work in that hospital until the end of me."

There was another stretch of silence. You thinned out a sigh, trying not to let the smile leave your face, even if she wasn’t there to see it.

"Come over for dinner tomorrow. I'll tell Miles to come and get you."

"Sure, tía, I'd love to." He probably just needed a break. Not from you specifically, but in general.

"You know tú y Miles sois mi vida, ¿bien?" (you and Miles are my life, right?) It wasn’t often Rio said that, but you always remembered every time she did, and how it made you feel — like you were family. Rio was pretty much a second mother to you. It made you wonder what Miles' father would've been like.

"Well, it's getting late, and I have a lot of laundry to fold." Rio's tone had a fake sort of enthusiasm — tiredness? You couldn’t really tell with her; the woman was always upbeat. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will." It was late, you realised, and the sky outside your window was a lot darker than it had been before. "You too, tía."

“Descansa, ¿sí?” (Get some rest, yes?)

“Sí, tía.”

The call ended, and you were left facing your messages, a bittersweet feeling hugging you from behind. Right now, Miles was out with Aaron, about some contract, probably to do with boxing…

But why weren't your texts going through?

miles are you ok? Not delivered

im really proud of you Not delivered

i wish i couldve seen you live Not delivered

It wasn’t like there was much point, but…

i love you Not delivered

Maybe it was just out of habit; maybe you just missed him. Your reflection frowned at you behind the messages, thumb hovering over the power button to shut your phone off, until your phone pinged with a notification — Aaron was texting you.

Hey man

Out of town

LMK if miles breaks in

You sat up immediately, fingers floating uselessly above the keys for a moment.

sure Read at 11:24PM

are you out of town already? Read at 11:25PM

Ping!

Yeah

@ Queens

Miles was with Aaron about some “contract”... and Aaron was in Queens?

You knew Miles hadn't blocked you, or turned his phone off — he had no signal. And there was only one place in Brooklyn you could think of that had no reception, and that MIles had any reason to be in. It was also the one place you didn't want him to go to: that damn warehouse.

The place he’d spent training all those weeks — what reason did he have to be there right after finishing the tournament? Putting on your jacket, blinking back the sleepiness and collecting the fleeting remains of patience you had left, you could only hope that Miles had even a shred of common sense with him.

THWACK! THWACK! THWA— Crack!

"Mierda..." (Shit...) Miles hissed, drawing his glove away from the punching bag. His hand was paralysed for a moment, a deep, gnawing pang running through his fingers down to the rest of his arm. The tight gloves only suffocated him more, doing nothing to ease the pain as he gritted his teeth and waited for it to dull down.

Why was he even here? It was over — that Norman bastard had blown him off hours ago. It felt like a couple minutes, the words still fresh in his mind. Searing pain shot through his hand when he tried to flex his fingers, the rest of his muscles starting to ache too. This was going to hurt after the adrenaline wore off. Damn it, Morales.

The walls flashed white all of a sudden, a faint rumble of thunder interrupting the pounding of his heartbeat as he tried to straighten himself out. It was quiet, except for the sounds of the incoming storm. The playlist he was listening to had finished ages ago — your playlist. If he didn’t want to think about you, he wasn’t doing a good job of it.

Rain blasted quietly against the windows, and Miles’ eyes stung with dryness as he squeezed them shut. There was no way he'd be able to go back now, not to you, definitely not to his mom. She'd probably go on and on about how he should've taken his jacket, how he ruined his hair in the rain again, maybe how he wasted his damn time being a boxer...

It was probably fair; his mom had enough on her plate trying to support them both — especially him right now. She’d done everything in her power to make sure he got to Vegas, and he’d just left her alone again right after. But how was he meant to face her now? He was supposed to make her proud, make his dad proud, but it wasn’t like he had any pride left after he’d lost his contract. The Green Goblin had probably set the record for fastest knockout when Miles lost to him. Of course just the semi-finals weren’t enough; Norman Osborn was the big shot of boxing, and if Miles lost to some rookie in just about 15 seconds, then maybe he wasn’t worth the investment.

It didn’t make sense — nothing about The Green Goblin (or “Harry”, whatever they liked to gossip about) made sense. He’d just debuted, but didn’t even look like a boxer; he didn’t stand right, his style was inconsistent, his head movement was all over the place, but his punch had almost knocked Miles’ brain straight out of his skull. It was almost superhuman. Even with no openings, the freak of nature had forced his way through like an animal. And he was scrawny, not nearly as built as Miles at least, like he should’ve been in the weight class down. Either way, the asshole was being celebrated, and Miles was out of a contract.

And Miles had just stood there, while Norman berated him and tore Miles’ dream apart right in front of his very eyes. Maybe he’d hoped too much as an “amateur” boxer. That’s all he was, apparently — no matter how hard he worked, or what he achieved, or what he promised.

“Why should I keep you? The Vulture was destined to lose at his age.”

“Even rigged matches wouldn’t get you anywhere.”

“I mean, you’re as good at fighting as one of those street kids.”

“That’s all you were before I decided to give you a chance, no?”

The image of the Norman’s uncanny, sneering face sent his good fist reeling towards the punching bag. Should’ve pummelled his pelirojo (redhead) ass to the ground—

"Miles!"

The glove crumpled mid-air against the bag, arm going rigid. It was silent as he let out a breath through his teeth — he wasn’t hearing things, was he?

The rush was starting wearing off, his mind starting to cloud and pain faintly radiating again from his other hand. His good fist tightened inside the glove, pushed against the bag which was still and awkwardly tilted.

You’re losing focus, just punch the damn thing—

"Miles, what the hell are you doing here?"

The noise of the door shutting made him turn around, floor squeaking under his stumbling feet. It was you by the door, breathing just as heavily as him and dripping head to toe with rain, in a jacket that was way too thin for any sort of weather.

Dios... (God...) He knew he couldn’t be hallucinating that disapproving look on your face.

Rain was pattering gently against the glass as he pulled his arm away away from the bag, letting it swing in front of him before his eyes met yours.

"It's midnight, what are you..." A sharp intake of breath interrupted your words — a shiver.

"What’re you doin’ here...?" Miles asked instead through a grimace. His voice came out wrong — hoarse. Cold sweat was clinging to his skin, and his throat was dry and tightening. A mess — that’s what you were talking to right now, barely your boyfriend. All he could do was stare as the rush died down and his senses were coming back to him. The fog in his mind made it hard to speak, even harder to look at you.

"My texts and calls weren't going through— You weren't with Aaron or your mom, I just..." You sucked in another breath through your teeth; raindrops were glistening on your skin. He should’ve just stayed home, damn it. "Was just worried."

Well, he certainly looked worrying, even more so than you. Swallowing back his breathlessness wasn’t helping; it was like he’d ran a marathon with his fists. The pain from his knuckle was starting to bleed into the rest of his hand so much so that it might’ve been broken.

"'M good... You, though?" He let out a bit of a growl to clear his throat before deciding to cut straight to the chase: you’d come here in the middle of the night, in the rain, by yourself. As much as he was being an idiot right now, the amount of times he’d told you to not do any of those things, pleaded with you even, was making you look like the delirious one in his eyes. Miles was being stubborn, but he knew you were worse.

“You insane…?” he muttered, taking a step away from the bag. “Did Aaron tell you to come here or sumn’?"

"No, he was supposed to be with you," you shot back, eyes narrowing at him from under your hood before thunder bellowed from all around. The rain was growing into a loud static noise, and your voice was muffled as your expression grew more exasperated. "You came home 3 days ago and you didn't even text me. Yeah, I probably should've texted you, and I tried, but now you're here training alone again when your mom thinks you're with Aaron and—"

"You come here to scold me?" His jaw crunched a little as he tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Miles wasn’t trying to be mad at you — he was just mad in general. It just so happened to be in your direction right now.

“Huh? No, I came here because you scared the hell out of me — and Aaron told me to not let you break into his place.”

If it was supposed to be funny, the laugh he let out was anything but amused. At least Aaron wasn’t here for him to disappoint too, or get a weirdly-phrased life lesson from, or both. “Well I’m not breakin’ in, and I told you, I’m good, so I don’t get why you’re still here.”

You stepped a little closer, and Miles’ heels dug into the ground to keep himself from moving. “Isn’t it obvious? Or are you just being difficult on purpose?”

“Difficult?” he mirrored dryly, trying to push back the growing exhaustion clouding his head.

“Can you not just take a break for once? It’s over, Miles; you already won—”

“I didn’t win.” The walls echoed with his voice, words having escaped on their own. It wasn’t at you, but he didn’t know what he was mad at, resolve fading as he watched your face straighten with realisation.

“Don’t tell me that’s why you’re here…”

His fingers unconsciously clawed into the boxing glove, pain shoot through his hand. Nothing came out of his mouth, but his silence was loud — incriminating. That was the reason, right? That he didn't win?

“Kid didn’t stand a chance.” What was the point of you being here?

“A one-punch concussion — on a newbie, no less.” It was over, like you said.

“It’s a shame, I bet on him too.” Everyone had given up on him.

“You should be resting right now— you’re shaking, Miles.” So why wouldn't you?

“No ‘m not…” is all he could muster, flexing his shoulders uncomfortably. Your hand was on his arm before he could realise, and he was met with a stern look as he tried to keep his gaze from shaking too.

The velcro on his gloves crunched as you started undoing them, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop you. It’s not like he had the energy.

“You coulda’ got hurt on your way here.” The croak in his voice made him sound more hopeless than reprimanding as you slipped off the first glove, pausing half-way down his palm. His bare palm.

“…I could’ve got hurt?” Miles held back a sigh as he was made to look at his own hand. Bruised, blackened, branded with anger — it hurt more to look at it than anything. “You didn’t wear your wraps?”

The other glove slid off, revealing the fresh, festering swelling coming from his middle knuckle — the aftermath of that sickening cracking noise. You took his curled hand, easing up his middle finger and making him hiss under his breath.

“Think you can straighten it?” you muttered, gently trying to do it yourself only to lose his hand from your grip.

“’S gonna be fine,” he mumbled, eyes fixed to the side as his hand closed back up.

“It won’t if you can’t move it properly.”

“You a doctor now?”

“Nah, but your mom’s a nurse.” You carefully held his hand by palm, thumb tracing over the tender, split skin, his fingers wrapping around the side of your hand in futile protest. He’d have to bother his mom again — he didn’t even think about that. “You basically just punched yourself.”

Everything you were saying was right — it always was. He hated that fact.

“You a boxing expert too?” he thought to retort.

“Thought that was supposed to be you.” Miles’ eyes narrowed, and yours narrowed in response. “I don’t get it, baby...” you sighed, shaking your head a little as you put down the gloves to the side.

Baby. His breath almost hitched. You were dating, and it didn’t even seem like it anymore. Not after all those weeks apart. The word didn’t even feel endearing, it was condescending, like he didn’t deserve it. Maybe he was being a baby, and maybe he always had been. You were the one who always had to drag him out of this make-shift gym. Right now was no different, except…

“…Why are you still doing this?” he heard you mutter, still turned away with his hand in your grip. You didn’t even know the half of it.

“Why are you still here?” His hand tried to slip away again, but you only took it by the wrist instead, now facing him.

“Why won’t you answer my questions, Miles?” Your voice deadened into a whisper, only serving to frustrate him.

“I don’t know why you care so much.” He let out a quiet huff, staring at your hand when your grip ceased to relax.

“I care because you look like you’re about to pass out and I can’t let my boyfriend kill himself over something stupid—”

“I’m not killing myse—” A pained groan escaped his mouth as you ruthlessly pushed up his injured finger.

“Don’t push me, Miles.” Oh, you were serious.

“You’re pushin’ sumn’,” he strained through gritted teeth. “Mierda… quit it already.”

The pain tore on another moment, and he was just now realising how bad it actually hurt. All you were doing was staring at him, brows knitted together. “Cariño, please…” he whispered, a wince forming on his face.

Your hand loosened, and he let out a quiet, frustrated, somewhat relieved sigh.

Still a sucker for nice words... He didn’t say them as much as he would’ve liked.

“You need to take a time out,” you stated after a beat of silence. The expression on your face was serious again, killing any sense of tenderness you might’ve shown.

He freed his hand from your grip with the opportunity, before giving you a dubious look. “Like, for kids?”

“Like for boxers, dumbass.” Your gaze followed his retreating hand for a moment before falling back on his eyes. “But if you want me to treat you like a kid…”

“I’m good.” Another roar of thunder rang out before he could add anything, and the rain was so heavy that anything you could see from the windows became a blur.

“…You got your jacket?” you suggested, without much hope.

The idea only made Miles’ eyes squeeze shut again. A shallow exhale left him, and he tried not to let his fatigue cloud his judgement. If he kept talking stupid to you, he’d probably have worse to worry about than a broken knuckle. “You think imma go outside?”

All you could do was sigh. It seemed like the two of you would be in “time out” for a while.

🕸️🔭👾

thank you for reading part 2 soon but then again its not my fav fic in the world 💔 i rewrote this like 8 trillion times and it still wasn't clicking for me 😭 idk i just got sick of editing it again and again

this isn't as short as my usual fics because i felt like i needed to add context... I've never written an au or anything remotely original so this is just yeah... im tryna figure it out! i have . too much lore for this au

reblogs appreciated lmk if you did like it (i hope this is someone's cup of tea lmao)

catch my atsv masterlist here !

#miles 42 x reader #42!miles morales x reader #42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles 42 #earth 42 miles x you #miles g morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #miles g morales #miles gonzalo morales #atsv fanfiction #across the spiderverse #atsv x you #42!miles x reader #atsv #prowler miles x you #prowler miles x reader #prowler miles #vhstown

684 notes · View notes

savnofilter · 6 months

Text

Your Scent Is Sweeter | e. kirishima

Werewolf!Eijiro Kirishima x Virgin![FEM]Reader

CONTENT WARNING(S): sexual content, one shot, loss of virginity, kirishima likes how you smell, dry humping, hints of jealousy, spit (1), knot inflation, pull out method, mutual pining, friends -> lovers (?), established friendship.

COUNT: 3.4k words [13 mins.]

READ MORE: masterlist + [student masterlist]

A/N: ehhh i dont think i'll ever do this like an animal horny hybrid shit after the last few fics i have queued up. 😭 even if i do i'll def cringe it later probably anyways- ignore my hating… also this is a continuation from a draft over a year ago?? including the next two bakugo fics im going to post and the other dragon!kirishima fic so bare with me. this isnt even that bad LOL. thank you, anon!

How you and Kirishima first met was simple:

Two different hands reached out for the last skewer that sat on the hot grill, both stopping in hesitation at the presence of someone else. You both stopped and looked at each other, an awkward laugh coming from you as an equally shy smile graced his lips.

“Lady’s first!” He grinned at you, his sharp teeth showing as he blushed softly, stepping back. “Go ahead, I’ll just swing back later.”

“Thank you.” You smiled at him, feeling butterflies in your chest as the cute male allowed you to grab it.

As much as you wanted to say something else, your brain short-circuited on coming up with anything. Part of you wanted to tease him and say he could take it, but you never pass up on an opportunity for food. Nevertheless, even if it was for a random cute guy. Plus you had spent the last few hours dancing and working up a sweat, you were sure you needed it more than him. As he stood to the side, you were able to pay and take your leave, waving to him as you disappeared into the crowd. One last glance was exchanged with him as you left him at the stand.

Typically, you wouldn't go to many events if it weren't for the festivals or known shows; but this one faithful New Year's festival when you were fresh into adulthood had proven you made the great decision to attend the celebration. Events between humans and werewolves were often rampant during popular holidays, the New Year being one of them.

There were many people around with many great food booths to compare. It was only a mere coincidence that you two seemed to be craving the same savory treat, kabobs.

After the first time you two had met, you started bumping into him more at cultural events. You hadn’t told anyone that you had met with this boy. At least you were sure he was around your age, young twenties or so, but there was no mistaking he had a few on you though not too much. The more you saw him at these gatherings, the connection between you two grew naturally, and it soon evolved into a friendship. No one knew about this friendship and to your friends he was merely regarded as something akin to a hallway crush. What they didn't know was that you two had been seeing each other for about two years now, doing various things together as a private friendship. It was no surprise the once innocent feelings you had for him slowly turned into a crush each time you two met. Luckily enough for you, today was one of the days when you two could catch up and you were more than ready to see him again.

You bit your lip as you sat on the cut-down tree stump, one of the many things that made him complain. Something about humans defiling the woods by making modifications that didn’t need to be made. Oftentimes when you met him, he ranted about different things, all things to be exact. Even with his rambling nature, he had other sides to him. You saw him chill, you saw him happy, you’ve seen him angry and you’ve seen him annoyed. But the ‘mood’ he approached you with today was something different. It was… feral. In a way, you couldn’t explain it.

“E-Evening, Kirishima.” You smile up at him as he walks up to you, holding up the basket you brought for him. “I made your favorite, they’re still hot just how you like them!” You open the basket to show him the goodies, scooching over on the big seat to give him room to sit down. He was quiet today, stiff too. You tried not to show your concern as he picked up the bag and sniffed it. It was times like these when you could pay close attention to the way his face looked, admiring the roundness of his cheeks that complimented his sharp jaw.

Kirishima only grunts as he sits away from you, his quiet and fidgety demeanor worrying you a bit. Your eyes observed his statue that had a light sheen of sweat layering his tanned skin that was visible to the eyes, his brows scrunched angrily. His facial expression was one of heavy frustration even with how much he tried to hide it. Whatever he was trying to find using his snout appeared to not have been found, and he was once again on the hunt to find the source.

Kirishima proceeds to start sniffing again, this time pulling away to smell somewhere else. You couldn’t help but stare as his behavior was odd, flinching a bit when his nose led to sniffing around you. You tried to stay calm as he got closer, shifting awkwardly as you contemplated the right moment to ask about his demeanor. His breathing seemed a bit ragged too, his chest rising and falling as he avoided contact with you, even visually.

“You’re… in heat.”

If he couldn’t see the blush on your face you could certainly feel it.

“....what?"

“I can smell it, you’re aroused...” Eijiro responds simply. "And you smell really good."

He was still standing as he towered over you. He rested the basket next to you and didn’t move, his eyes dark with a glint you haven’t seen before. His hand comes up cup your jaw, his palm hot against your skin. You play with your sleeves as you grow flustered, laughing nervously as the thought of being in a lewd situation with the black-haired male starts to run through your head.

“Eijiro…” You start, looking up at him as he makes you look up at him by tilting your head up. You felt as though you were caught stealing from a cookie jar, hands covered in crumbs as you tried to hide the emotions stirring inside you that he could very obviously sense.

His lips spare you the process of trying to come up with something to say as he presses his mouth against yours. You felt something spark as he did, your hands that were once clenched at your chest held his shoulders, stabilizing yourself when he forces you to lay down on the large tree stump you sat on. You tried to keep up with his kisses, opening up your mouth to let him in, fearing the pain of accidentally poking something if you chose to let your tongue wander in his. You moaned as his tongue poked and prodded in your hot cavern, his hands moving to grip your thighs to spread them apart as he got between them.

You hadn't noticed how big his body was, being so exposed to it so many times in such a friendly setting compared to this one. You daydreamed about this moment but never did you think it would happen so soon. Your heart hammers in your chest upon feeling his lips move so softly against yours, caring even. You could tell that he was the skilled one between you two and his kind way of gentleness showed with his fervent kisses. Unfortunately for him though, you didn't nearly have as much lung capacity as him to continue this unbroken kiss.

One of your hands on his shoulders taps him as an indicator for a breather, the doting male taking the message. Your labored breaths mix with his as your eyes can't help but be glued to his in desperation. A timid mewl is ripped from your lips when his hands that once respectfully rested on the sides of your hips swoop down to grip the back of your thighs and reach behind you to squeeze your bum. Kirishima growls as the scent of your arousal heightens, his gaze darkening as he prepares himself to fuck you.

"I-I didn't want to pounce on you like this but you smell so good." Kirishima rambles as his hands start to grope at your clothed skin. You couldn't do anything but just lay there and take it, watching up at him with curious eyes.

His strong and calloused hands trail up your body to grope your chest through your clothes, the heavy weight of his hands bringing a rush of excitement straight to your core. Whilst he fondles you he successfully manages to slide closer to you between your legs, your thighs resting on his as he gets comfortable. You bite your lip feeling his hard length now pressing against your core, a taunting sensation between the layers of clothes that restricts you. While your hands never left his shoulders his hands happily roamed your body.

From when he was fondling you, he was able to unbutton some of your blouse, the top of your cleavage now exposed to him, and the beautiful light of the moon from atop the sky. You feel tightening in your chest as oxygen starts to run out from kissing for so long, your hands lightly pushing him away. He pulls away with a light growl that marks his excitement. Kirishima hadn't slept with humans often but had to remind himself that he had to be gentle…. at first.

"Do you want this, Y/N?" Eijiro holds your chin to have you look up at him. You lightly gulp in excitement at the feeling of his rough hands on your jawline, a more than ready nod coming from you.

"I want to, Eiji." You're not even sure how you managed to maintain eye contact after relaying that. Until now, you had only kissed other people but other than that it never went further. There wasn't much left to ponder about his experience in these activities, though. "Just be gentle, this is my first time, okay?"

He visibly portrays his shock at the revelation with a dropped jaw but quickly recovers by nodding his head in understanding. If anything, this is one of the best news he's heard in a while. Now it wasn't often that Kirishima thought about your sex life. When he did think about you having sex, other partners were never in the equation. Just purely you and him. Though on his part he was assuming your experience—it was just Ludacris to him that no one has gotten that far with you yet considering he could tell the way most of the males around you acted.

Those festivals where he'd watch you from afar and get a jealous flutter in his chest fell testament to this, later his anger fueling into pure neediness in the comfort of his bedroom. He'd be straight-up lying if he said he wasn't crushing on you hard. You were as sweet as ever, pretty with a physique that suited you nicely, a smile that he fell in love with on the first day, and god you always smelled so good. Even in times when he'd playfully chase you down and you'd try and push him away in embarrassment of odor, it was that exact husk that drew him in closer. The pull that made him want to pin you down and fuck you raw.

Kirishima grips your hand and kisses the back of it as he stares deeply into your eyes. "Of course, anything for you."

You softly sucked in a breath feeling his hot hand slip down to palm your sex, the sensation so very foreign to you. Undoubtedly he could certainly sense the wetness through your clothes, another animalistic growl coming from him. He palms you in preparation for his eventual fucking, skilled hands rubbing at your labia and then playing with your clit. Your body jolts at the pleasure you receive from that certain area, a pained whimper in desperation slipping from your lips as you clawed at him.

His deft fingers easily rubbed against your clothed core, determined to get you hot and ready for him. His eyes watch down in a predatory gaze as he watches your expressions for any behavior change, his pupils dilating in hunger as he watches your body open more and more for him. Once he's done pawing at you he presses his crouch right against yours, the heat and weight of his confined cock stirring a whimper from within you. You tilt your head back, hands still stuck on him as you pull him closer to your body instinctively. Kirishima wordlessly leans in to press more animalistic kisses to your neck, now utilizing his sharp teeth to nip and bite at your skin. He groans against your sweet skin as you start to grind against him as well, a revelation now settling in that you were impossibly sensitive in all areas of your neck.

Usually by now, Kirishima would've fucked whoever was underneath him into oblivion already, but he was purposely taking it slower. He needed to tease and punish you for not being his any sooner. To make him wait so long to get between your luscious and squeezable thighs.

"Eijiro," A louder moan encourages him when he roughly nips at the conjuncture of where your neck and collarbone meet, the sensation sending a hot shiver down your spine. Mixed with the friction of his heavy hips against yours you're shaking under him, eyes prickling with tears as an unfamiliar feeling starts to wash over you. "W-Wait—!" You try to tap his shoulder, the act has him unmoving as he himself already knew what you were experiencing.

Kirishima leans up to witness the pleasurable experience wash over you, greedily taking in the fact it was him to accomplish it without even having to do anything. In seconds he's gripping your jaw and having you look at him as he places another searing kiss against your lips. You're sloppily meeting him halfway there with no doubt that his tongue has all the right to overpower yours. Your hands are lost in his hair whilst his are impatiently ripping off your clothes ready to take you under the moonlight.

A line of saliva connects you two when he pulls away, the small connection popping when he licks his lips. Your mouth and skin tasted so sweet, that he'd have to remind himself to eat you out next time, preferably somewhere more romantic and private.

The male on top of you grunts as the cool air of the night hits his now exposed schlong, the naked member twitching at the sensation. It was a reminder that he needed it in somewhere warm and his solution was right in front of him. He groans once the scent of your fresh arousal hits his nose, it now being stronger than ever with your hot cunny in line of sight for him. You were a sight to behold, truly. Skin littered with his bite marks, a light sheen of sweat coating your skin and your pussy dripping in need for him.

"Do you want it?" Kirishima asks with a growl in his voice. You had just come down from an orgasm and he didn't want to rush you.

"Give it to me, Eiji."

He doesn't have the balls to play with you anymore and gets straight to it. He presses his bulbous head against your opening, rubbing it up and down your pussy lips as he tries to loosen you up. "Relax."

You bite your bottom lip and try to do as told, eyes glued to his raging hard cock. You hadn't seen a cock before now but you were a hundred percent sure this was the prettiest you have and will ever see. You shiver when he pokes his tip at your clit, the sensitivity from before making you squirm. Your eyes flicker up as you watch him spit on his cock for more lubrication, mixing the substance with your arousal and his precum to make it easier for you to take.

"I'm going in--fuck." Kirishima breathes out as he inserts his dick into your gummy walls, the squeezing around him has him reeling in pleasure. With no remorse, he grips the back of your thighs and presses them against your body in a mating press, a deep groan rumbling in his chest as your cunt swallows his cock in this position. He tilts his head back as he slowly and surely rocks the rest of his length into your awaiting cunt, the ecstasy he was experiencing had never been felt before. It was almost reminiscent of the first time he had lost his virginity except this felt exponentially better.

His hands nearly rip your shirt open to show your breasts to him, the restriction of your clothes around your breasts making them perk up for him. He licks his lips as your nipples harden even more at the attention. Your tits bounce with each thrust as he slowly tries to ease himself in, his excitement making it hard for him to stay patient.

Your breathy moans are the only thing he can hear and focus on, totally zoning out on anything around him. Everything about you felt too good. The way you wrapped around his cock, how your hands gripped at him, the desperation in your voice, and the way that you felt under his hands was intoxicating. Kirishima had been waiting for this for so long and he could finally have it, have you. With patience, he was able to start rocking his hips faster and deeper into your cunt. The lewd noise of your pussy squelching with every thrust encouraged him to do more, to fuck you more passionately.

His lips were busy marking up your skin not caring about the complaining you might have for later. Earlier when he was eagerly trying to take off your clothes he tried his best not to rip your clothes off but there was no guarantee his (kind) gesture came to fruition. That minuscule dilemma will be something to deal with when you both get there.

His hand dips down to mindlessly play with your sensitive bean, humming in satisfaction when it elicits a sharper moan from you. You're grinding your hips against his with vigor, body shameless in the pleasure it receives from him. Your eyes could barely focus on anything specific as the male you once considered a friend completely obliterates your cunt. Tears prickle at your eyes as you start to feel an intense sensation that washed over your body not too long ago.

"E-Eiji," You pant out, head lifting lightly from the wood.

Kirishima's head immediately lifts from your skin and looks up at you, you two millimeters apart from each other's faces. "You close, babe?"

You nod frantically and wrap your legs around his waist, locking him in closer. He groans at how well you're able to take him, the new position allowing you to take in his cock fully. He softly coos as you try to stick it out, a pained but pleasured expression adorning your features.

"Cum on my cock, baby."

The buzzing in your system doesn't die down, everywhere in your body feels as though it's on fire. You're engulfed in everything he gives you and refuse to let this moment go. Your body is raging with white-hot arousal as you come undone with the help of a few thrusts and his fondling. You groan happily as he grips your thighs and presses them against your body again, an unfamiliar swelling at the base of his cock forming at the base of his cock and slamming against your pussy with each thrust. You peek down to see the inflation, a bit of worry rushing into your system.

Kirishima cusses as he lets go of one of your legs and pulls out, his spunk immediately spilling onto your pubic area and pussy, successfully covering you in his load. You whimper at how much there is, some getting on your clothes and the already defiled tree trunk from the spillage. You felt yucky with all the sweat and fluids and felt like it was prime time to go to sleep.

You shyly make eye contact with him and let out a nervous giggle, happily welcoming an approaching kiss as he leans in to take your lips against his. You two gradually come down from your high, your body now slumped against the flat surface of the massive cut-down tree.

You two will figure out what you are later.

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