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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 1 year

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chapter xv - gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count: 4,300+

Warnings: violence, suggestions of sexual assault

masterlist

Feyre watched her boys from across their breakfast nook. Nyx was babbling happily in his father’s arms. His wings were now strong enough to reflect his emotions. They flapped lightly when he was happy – like now. They sagged when he was sad or tired. And they folded tight against his back when he was angry.

Rhys was feeding him patiently as he tried to also read reports that Azriel had dropped off late last night.

She should’ve known something was going to ruin their peaceful morning.

The front door being thrown open was so loud that they didn’t even need their fae hearing to catch it.

Cassian, Feyre and Rhysand both said into each other’s minds, while also sharing a look. Only the giant Illyrian would be so noticeably loud with his entrance.

They heard every one of his steps as he marched his way towards them.

To their surprise, Cassian opened the door to show that Azriel had been right on his heels.

“What is it?” Rhys asked seriously, knowing from their expressions alone that something was very wrong.

“Y/N is gone,” Cassian answered hurriedly.

“Gone?” Feyre repeated. She and Rhys both stood from their seats.

Nyx eyes sensed his parent’s tension and whined in his father’s arms, eyes filling with crocodile tears.

“Her room was empty when I went to escort her to her shop this morning,” Cassian explained. “Drawers were left open and her belongings were strewn about. She packed lightly, left almost everything behind.”

“Her shop hadn’t been opened for the day. Her scent was nowhere to be found there,” Azriel chimed in.

“We’ve searched all of Velaris,” Cassian added.

Rhys turned his attention to his Spymaster. “Azriel, I thought you had your shadows following her…”

Azriel bowed his head with shame. “It’s as though she…vanished. She must have cast some sort of cloaking spell.”

“Brother, can you hear her?” Cassian asked Rhys and then looked to Feyre for help on the matter as well.

But Rhys shook his head before the question was even finished. “Once she understood our daemati abilities, I believe she created an amulet to block us.” He shrugged, “Evidently, it made her uncomfortable.”

Cassian cleared his throat and took a step forward. “There’s something else you should know. But you must promise to control yourself.”

Feyre took their son from her mate.

Rhysand’s gaze darkened. “What happened?”

But Cassian stood his ground. “Promise me.”

“Fine,” Rhys cooly. “I promise.”

“Last night, Nesta told Y/N the truth about Eris.”

Feyre closed her eyes and let out a long, frustrated sigh.

Nyx let out another whine, earning him a gentle kiss from his mother.

“Did she tell her about the deal?” Rhys asked.

Cassian shook his head.

“But we should assume she still knows – with her ability to find out information the way that she does,” Azriel commented darkly.

“Does my sister not understand the risk she took?” Feyre asked exasperated. “If something happens to Y/N while she is still within the border of Night Court, the blood oath could finally claim what its owed!”

But to everyone’s surprise, Rhysand comforted his mate. “Y/N deserved to know the truth, Feyre darling.”

“She most likely left last night,” Azriel added. “Which means she’s probably halfway to Day Court as we speak.”

“She wouldn’t try the mountains,” Cassian thought aloud. “Probably stuck to the coast this entire time. Y/N would know that’s the safest route.”

“Both of you, search the eastern shores,” Rhysand ordered.

Suddenly, Nesta burst into the room, breathing heavily. “She bought two horses. A stableboy in the city told me she was there late last night and paid him in fine jewelry.”

The males all shared a look. “If she’s on horseback, she is already in Day Court,” Cassian explained.

Feyre let out a breath of relief. Fae bonds were specific and rigid things. Rhys had promised Y/N’s safety to Eris as long as she resided in Night Court.

But that didn’t mean Feyre was done worrying about Y/N.

“How do we know she’s heading south?” Nesta challenged.

“The Mortal Lands are the only home she knows. That is where she will go,” Azriel explained quietly.

Nesta’s gaze narrowed. “But what if she is going to Eris?”

Feyre was the one who answered. “I don’t think she is, Nesta.”

Nesta exhaled, knowing her sister was most likely right. To mortals, the mating bonds of fae felt…overwhelming and somewhat terrifying. All Y/N knew was that Eris felt something toward her, something that she was completely oblivious to. It could all be so confusing.

“But what do we tell him?” Nesta asked. “What do we tell Eris?”

“We tell him nothing,” Rhysand answered curtly. “At least, not yet. We must search for her first. Otherwise, Eris could possibly lose all reason, and his father will surely be suspicious then.”

“I’m going with Azriel and Cassian,” Feyre announced.

“Elain and I will stay with Nyx,” Nesta announced.

“I will send word to Helion,” Rhysand nodded. “He be wary that we are asking about a mortal. And he will annoy me with far too many questions. But we must risk it.”

Everyone started to take their leave.

Feyre slowly handed her son to Nesta. “For what it’s worth, I believe you did the right thing telling her. I just wish you would have come to us first.”

Nesta scoffed. “All of you would have only tried to stop me.”

And perhaps she was right.

“Now, go and help them find her.” Nesta nodded towards the front door that her mate and Azriel had just left through.

But once she was alone with her nephew, Nesta began to wonder: what would they do once they found Y/N? Drag her back to Night Court? Clearly, Y/N had no desire to be here any longer. So, would they force her back? Truly make her a prisoner?

Cauldron, what must Y/N think of all of them now?

–🍁–🍁–🍁–

One Week Later…

Eris had felt a weight in his stomach that had been making him nauseous for nearly a week now.

Something wasn’t right. His heart told him it was Y/N.

Eris noticed his mother’s concerned looks during the few times he’d been in the same room as her.

But his father had been keeping him so busy with last-minute commands that there was no way for Eris to sneak off to the Night Court to check on Y/N or even speak to his mother.

Now he found himself in a rare moment alone in his chambers. And he couldn’t even find the patience to sit.

Instead, he paced back and forth beside the giant fireplace.

It was storming outside, a common occurrence in Autumn Court. But as the night went on, the lightning and thunder became more frequent, more aggressive. What was it leading to?

Eris tried to think of way to sneak off without Beron or his spies noticing. Dare he even risk such a thing when his father seemed hidebound on keeping him close.

There was a tension beneath his skin, scrapping against bone and muscle. It left him restless. It left him aching.

Something was coming – whether it was coming for him, Eris did not know.

But he was pulled form him inner turmoil when a letter appeared out of nowhere and floated down, right before his very eyes.

Eris swore his heart stopped.

Surely whatever Rhysand had to say would answer this gnawing feeling Eris could not get rid of. Had Y/N been attacked again? Was she hurt? Had that bastard shadowsinger made her cry again?

Eris held his breath as he opened the letter from the High Lord.

She knows. She knows who you really are to her. And she ran when she found out. We have been looking for her for a week. She must be cloaking herself. We expect that she is heading for the Mortal Realm. Eris, we need your help. She needs your help.

Eris swore he saw red.

Y/N knew. She knew and she ran. Why would she do such a foolish thing? She was safe in the Night Court.

“Fools,” Eris hissed to himself as he scrunched up the paper in his fist and then lit it aflame, not releasing his grip until it was only ash.

All of them were fools.

What had they said o make her flee? She’d built a life for herself in Night Court. And she had abandoned it so swiftly. Was the thought of being his mate so horrific? Did Y/N think all of them would eventually force her to be with him?

Eris’ mind raced with hundreds of questions.

He had to join the search – immediately.

Suddenly, someone knocked on his door.

“Leave me be!” Eris growled.

But they knocked again, even harder this time.

Eris marched to the door, preparing to harm whoever dared disturb him.

When he threw open the door, one of Beron’s most loyal advisors stood before him.

“What?” Eris hissed.

“The High Lord requests your presence in the throne room, my lord.”

“I must decline,” Eris forced the words out.

To ignore his father’s request was to play a most dangerous game.

“The High Lord will not except a declination.”

It was a warning. Eris understood that.

What he was trying to figure out was how much he cared at this moment, when Y/N was treading through the most dangerous territory in the Fae Realms - alone!

Eris snarled before physically shoving past the advisor so harshly that he almost knocked the male off his feet.

Eris didn’t wait for his escort as he stomped to the throne room.

Whatever his father wanted, hopefully it wouldn’t take long. Then Eris could flee and find Y/n.

——

“Why do you act as if you are scared?” Amren asked Rhysand.

The letter was sent.

Soon Eris would know what became of his mate.

And the Court of Dreams stood in the foyer of the River House, wracked with guilt and worry.

“I do not fear Eris,” Rhysand corrected. “But you do not understand what this will do to him: to lose one’s mate. I only fear what this will do to him.”

“She isn’t dead,” Nesta corrected him harshly, her arms crossed.

“We cannot be sure,” Feyre sighed shakily.

“Y/N is not some weakly!” Nesta defended. “She survived on her own out there years before we ever met her. She’s a Valkyrie.”

Feyre was wise enough to look guilty. She should’ve never doubted Y/N’s survival.

“Will he come here? Eris?” Cassian asked. “Or will he go on his own hunt for her?”

But before anyone could answer, all windows were thrown open.

And a tornado flew in from outside.

Rhysand went to stand beside Feyre. Cassian rushed to Nesta, blocking her from any attack. Amren and Azriel unsheathed hidden weapons.

But no one stood before them. Only wind that roared so loudly, they were all forced to cover their ears.

It screeched so harshly, that all of them fell to their knees in pain.

“Y/N NEEDS YOUR HELP! SHE IS IN GRAVE DANGER! GO! NOW! TO THE AUTUMN COURT! TO THE FOREST HOUSE!”

–––

Eris hid his surprise when he found that the throne room was filled with courtiers. It was far too late in the night for them to be in attendance.

Then he caught sight of his three brothers. They all sneered at him, proving that they knew something he did not.

Now Eris understood his father planned to make a spectacle of him if his brothers had dropped their duties just to witness whatever this was.

Everyone else refused to look him in the eyes as he arrived. They feared him nearly as much as they feared their High Lord.

The High Lord who sat upon his throne with a wicked smile.

Eris stepped forward, only stopping until he reached the bottom of the stairs that led to his father. He kneeled, and kneeled deeply. He had been whipped for less.

It wasn’t until Eris peaked and saw his mother’s expression that he knew something terrible had happened.

She knew how to school her features in front of Beron. She played her role well, and left nothing for others to be able to decipher.

Eris rose from his bow. “You wished to see me, High Lord.”

Beron tilted his head to the side as he looked down at his eldest son. “You are in charge of guarding this court’s borders, are you not?”

Eris nodded, “I am, High Lord.”

“Then why was it I who found a witch wandering through our woods?”

Eris swore his fire blood turned to ice.

There were other witches in Prythian. It could be someone else. Please, let it be someone – anyone – other than her.

“Witches are cunning creatures,” Eris began cooly. “It is not surprising that one could pass through Autumn Court undetected.”

Beron seemed amused by his son’s response.

The High Lord snapped his fingers.

As if on cue, lightning and thunder struck just a second after.

And a door behind the throne opened.

Eris had to stop himself from becoming feral when he saw her.

Y/N was dripping wet, being dragged by two men as both her hands and feet were secured with iron chains that scrapped across the wooden floors.

There were bloodied scrapes and cuts across her skin, right alongside dozens of bruises. And Eris could see all of them due to the fact that Y/N was only wearing a sheer, white slip. And it was just as drenched as the rest of her, making it completely transparent and practically exposing her nudity to the entire hall.

If Eris unclenched the fists at his side, everyone would see that he was trembling with rage.

The males dragged Y/N until she was also at the bottom of the stairs of Beron’s throne. And half a dozen surrounded her with their weapons drawn, showing that they all saw her as a threat. Then one kicked at the back of Y/N’s legs, forcing her to fall onto her knees and face all of Autumn Court.

Y/N was now mere feet away from Eris.

When she finally found the strength to raise her head, she locked eyes with her mate. She schooled her features well, not even slightly looking at Eris with any recognition. But he wondered if it was because she was in so much pain.

Both nostrils of her nose were still bleeding. The right side of her lip was swollen and split. Her left eye was almost black and bruised. And there was a cut on the right side of her forehead that drew a line of bright red blood down the side of her face.

Y/N had put up a fight, that much was clear.

“Do you know what makes a witch powerless?” Beron asked casually. “Iron. Many have forgotten this weakness. But witches are powerless, unable to cast – so long as they are shackled with iron.”

Eris’ jaw was clenched tightly to stop himself from saying anything at all.

“Yes, it is been quite some time since I have fallen upon a witch,” Beron continued as he stood from his throne and stepped down. He didn’t stop until he was directly behind Y/N.

Eris wanted to lunge forward when Beron took Y/N’s wet hair and pulled it behind her, exposing her shoulders and neck.

Beron hand ghosted over Y/N’s neck and then he roughly gripped her chin from behind her. Y/N winced and closed her eyes.

Eris could clearly see that she was shaking.

“Our ancestors once kept witches as their slaves. High Lords would use them for coitus rituals, on display for all the court to see. I have heard the power these High Lords felt from it was…euphoric.”

Beron walked around so that he was in front of Y/N, blocking Eris’ view of her.

“But this one…has already put up quite the fight. She took out ten of my company before they were able to finally seize her.”

Beron was bating Eris. That was obvious. Which meant he had to know who Y/N was to him, what she meant. But Eris was still figuring out how. Surely his scent wasn’t on her. He hadn’t see in her weeks.

Eris didn’t move a muscle and composed his face to remain neutral. But on the inside, a war was raging. His instincts were screaming at him to attack, to protect his mate and rip her far, far away from his treacherous father.

But that was clearly what Beron wanted.

And Eris refused to give it to him. Not like this.

Beron walked around Y/N again until he was behind her. Gripping her right arm, he jerked Y/N to her feet, exposing her entire body that showed through her wet and thin underdress.

“But she is rather stunning, is she not?” Beron asked as his hand gripped her bottom harshly.

Y/N hissed and tried to lurch away, but Beron’s other hand choked her neck.

Eris watched as Y/N’s eyes filled with tears.

“Perhaps we should renew our ancestors practices,” Beron whispered into Y/N’s ear.

“Beron, that is enough!”

Everyone’s eyes whipped to their Lady of Autumn. The woman who had become more and more broken the longer she stayed in this court. The woman who submitted to her husband and never spoke out of turn.

Eris tried to give his mother a warning look, but she wasn’t looking at him. No, she was glaring at her husband.

But Y/N saw this as a moment of distraction.

She brought Beron’s hand that rested around her neck to her mouth and bit – hard. Until she tasted blood.

Beron howled in with fury and pain.

Y/N whipped around and lifted her knee to his groin – despite her ankles being chained. Her strike had the High Lord keeled over. But only for a moment.

“You stupid bitch!” And Beron backhanded her so hard that Y/N flew to the ground.

But it got her away from him, and Eris had his window.

Moving his hands, he gathered a ball of flame and threw it, knocking Beron yards back. When he landed, his head slammed back against the floor.

But when Beron rose to his feet, he was laughing. “You were always pathetic.” The High Lord immersed his entire body in flames. “Do you really believe you stand a chance against me, boy?”

Eris said nothing as he drew the sword at his side and it too ignited in flames.

With the wave of his arm, Beron unleashed a monster from his flames – a dragon, made entirely of fire. It lunged for Eris with its jaw open.

Now the courtiers wailed in fear, knowing their High Lord cared not for their lives and was more than willing to risk them as collateral damage.

Eris sliced the fire dragon’s neck with his sword.

But then a whip of fire wrapped around Eris’ throat, scorching the delicate skin. Out of instinct, he tried to rip it from his throat, which only resulted in burning his hands.

Beron pulled the whip toward himself, forcing Eris onto his knees.

“Do you wish to know how I realized that she meant something to you?” Beron spit as he leaned towards his son.

One of his guards dropped a bundle on the floor to the right of Eris. It was the bow and knife Eris had gifted Y/N. But the thing that surprised Eris was his cloak, the one he had thrown over her shoulders that night he’d found her crying. She had been traveling with it?

Beron leaned even closer. “Did you truly believe I would not recognize the work of our royal blacksmith?”

Eris roared as he unleashed a wave of his own power, breaking the fire whip his father controlled. It knocked Beron back far enough for Eris to regain his footing.

Beron cackled as he brushed off the attack. “Tell me, boy. Is she your lover? Or did you plan on using the witch to usurp me?”

Eris only glared, refusing to feed this taunting with any response.

Beron stood straighter and opened his arms. “Go on. Try your best.”

But before Eris could do so, the throne room was thrown into shadow.

The courtiers wailed in fear:

“I can’t see!”

“What is happening?”

A second later the shadows dispersed to reveal that all of Beron’s guards who were guarding the exit had been slaughtered.

And the High Lord’s evil smirk was finally wiped from his face.

Eris turned to find Azriel, Cassian, Nesta, Vassa, Jurian, and his youngest brother, Lucien.

With the understanding that he was no longer alone, Eris had a newfound strength. Even if he fell, they would get Y/N out of here. His life no longer mattered. Eris would either take out his father or distract him long enough to save his mate.

Eris roared as he sent a wall of flames at Beron.

Azriel shot for Y/N, taking out any guard that stood between them. When he reached her, his shadows made work of her shackles and broke her free.

“Can you stand?” He rushed.

“I can do more than stand,” Y/N growled, and she rushed for the weapons that had been stolen from her.

She started firing arrow after arrow, killing all the males that had attacked her and dragged her here.

Then she took in her chaotic surroundings to find Lucien, Vassa, and Jurian holding back the three other Vanserra brothers. Cassian and Nesta were back to back, taking out any soldiers loyal to Beron. Azriel was close to Y/N, covering her back as she had fired off her arrows.

But then Y/N caught another head of red hair. A beautiful, female High Fae who was throwing flames at anyone that tried to help Beron take on Eris.

His mother. It must have been Eris’ mother.

All of her allies allowed Y/N to turn her full attention to Eris who was fighting his father with his all power. But he still wasn’t strong enough. Beron was a High Lord and had all the ancient magic of Autumn Court behind him.

With swipe of both Beron’s hands, a wall of fire smacked into Eris, who didn’t have time to block it. And he was knocked onto his back.

The sight infuriated Y/N.

And something deep within her, that she didn’t recognize, rose up to the surface.

Before she even knew what she was doing, Y/N had sprinted forward and put herself between Eris and Beron.

“No! Run! Get out of here!” Eris yelled out – no, he begged her – as he struggled to get back to his feet.

But Y/N ignored him. Because something was taking her over.

Y/N’s hands reached out to the side.

She started chanting words that no mortal or fae would ever understand.

Beron stood and watched, about to laugh at whatever sad attempt this witch had at taking him down.

But Y/N’s words grew louder, stronger.

And that’s when the wind rushed into throne room.

It shattered the every single window with it’s arrival. It caused more screams from the courtiers who failed to flee.

Y/N’s eyes were no longer her own, but covered in white and glowing as if there were two moons.

Her arms raised higher.

The wind carried the shattered glass from the windows and pelted Beron like tiny they were tiny knives.

The High Lord underestimated her so much that he hadn’t been prepared to block such an attack.

He hissed in pain as the glass cut across his entire torso.

But Y/N wasn’t finished. Her chanting turned into a bellow. The words and rhythm had changed into something else.

In response, the wind now circled around Beron, capturing him in a tornado. But it wasn’t just keeping him in place, it was sucking the air from his lungs as if he was caught in a vacuum.

Beron gasped for breath, clutching at his neck as if it would help. As he failed, he fell to his knees.

And while Y/N attacked the High Lord, Eris, Lucien, and their mother had formed a wall behind her, waiting for the moment when Y/N would need backup.

“NOW!” Eris bellowed.

Together, the three of them stepped in front of Y/N and heaved fire onto Beron. It all entered the tornado of wind, keeping it contained and concentrated.

Beron’s cries filled the hall, loud enough to be heard over the wind and tornado. Despite being a wielder of flame himself, it burned him.

Yet Y/N was growing weaker, she had never tapped into this much power and it was starting to take a toll on her body.

The other three didn’t see as Y/N’s arms dropped and her eyes rolled back. She collapsed.

Azriel rushed forward, catching Y/N’s body only a moment before her head could slam to the ground.

Eris roared as he threw even more fire at his father, stepping even closer to Beron than Lucien and his mother.

Beron’s skin was scorched to black, half his clothes burnt right from his body.

Lucien and their mother paused their attack, as Eris marched to his weakened father as he unsheathed a hidden knife.

Not underestimating Beron or his power, Eris immediately grabbed his father by the neck and pulled him up.

Eris put his mouth close to his ear and whispered, “Her name is Y/N, and she is my mate.”

And he drove the knife into his father’s heart.

Eris then ripped it from Beron’s chest. And with one fluid swing, sliced off Beron’s head completely.

Only mere seconds after the decapitated head hit the floor, raw power filled the throne room. So potent that all fighting ceased. No one could ignore its feeling.

Beron’s loyal soldiers finally realized their High Lord had been killed.

And all that power moved to the heir of Autumn.

The impact of it brought Eris to his knees. He groaned as he felt it take over him entirely and then fell to his hands.

No one so much as breathed as they saw their new High Lord take over the throne.

When the power finally stopped transferring, Eris slowly lifted his head.

His eyes widened. “Y/N!”

And he whipped around to see his mate unconscious and beaten, in the arms of the shadowsinger.

-----

I have had a really terrible last couple of weeks at work. And then I got really sick, which is how I had time to write this. But most importantly, I worked extremely hard on this chapter. So please, please, please write a comment. Or, as I always say, write me a book report. 🙏

Chapter XVI

#gust & wind #acotar #a court of thorns & roses #lady of autumn #beron vanserra #autumn court #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris acotar #eris vanserra x reader #lucien vanserra #gust & wind chapter 15 #eris fic #eris vanserra fic

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worriedvision · 17 days

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tighnari x reader where the reader cries a lot, over small things and over small sad stuff. (not quite crybaby but emotional) one day reader is going to like the tavern place in sumeru (yk the place where everyone was in alhaitham's demo?) and hears tighnari complaining and talking bad about reader and a time where they cried over something small with his friends (like cyno, kaveh, haitham) and then the reader well (cries over that, and just avoids him for a while) BUT its gonna be a fluffy ending where he apologizes and everything he said after the reader tell him the stuff they heard. you recently did one of my requests, i was very pleased with it, so, thank you very much, lovely!

As someone who cries a lot over small stuff, this is so me lol! Gender neutral reader, sad ending unfortunately. I was going to make it a happy one, but it felt right to make it a sad ending lol

There were times that you didn't know how you managed to get with Tighnari of all people. He was the one who didn't try much, in fact at the beginning of your working life with him he couldn't stand your weeping over small problems. Any minor problem that you caused, anything that could be easily fixed, anything that someone else was going through? You'd cry at the drop of a hat, there were times that you'd be embarrassed after thinking about. He was the one who asked you out, and you landed up crying before saying yes as if it was a damn proposal.

You'd try to get better with grounding yourself a bit, distancing yourself mentally from things that would make you cry, but you'd still cry at small things. You suppose that was your 'superpower' that was actually a pretty pathetic power.

Your most recent crying episode was from some idiot who had consumed a mushroom that caused them to hallucinate - the hallucinations being scary. You couldn't help but cry when seeing them distressed, which was what alerted your boyfriend to find the poor person quicker. When you apologised for crying yet again, your boyfriend brushes it off and states that it's just part of who you are.

You thought he was past the point of being angry whenever you showed these emotions, so you decide to meet up with your friends for drinks. As you get to the bar early, you decide to wait outside for your friends. Kaveh happened to go in, waving and giving a cheery hello as he nips in to hang out with friends. Shortly after, a friend shows up and you both enter.

Upstairs, you can hear your boyfriend huffing to himself.

"What's wrong?" Cyno asks, Tighnari instantly ready to reply.

"I'll tell you what's wrong, my partners a crybaby!" Tighnari tuts, Kaveh clearing his throat as he knows you're no doubt hearing this.

"You knew about that part of them long before you were dating." Alhaitham states, crossing his arms at the same time that you get up to leave.

"Well, I thought they would calm down with their feelings by having a partner, and I am attracted to them physically." As he finishes the statement, you've left the bar with tears in your eyes.

The next week, you don't give Tighnari any affection. It was clear to you that he didn't like one of the most obvious things about you - how overly empathetic you are. He didn't have the time to think too hard on this, which gave you more time to reflect on the state of your relationship.

It becomes increasingly clear that you just were not right for him. You were lucky to get some time with him as a partner, but you had the impression that he saw you as someone he had to babysit whenever you started to cry. It didn't matter that he was physically attracted to you, he wished you weren't so emotional about everything.

With him also being the boss, you knew you would need to find work elsewhere as soon as you could. As much as it hurts you, you two were like chalk and cheese.

He deserved someone he didn't need to be on eggshells around, and you deserved a partner that cherished the fact you could put yourself in the position of others and really feel how they felt.

When your boyfriend asked you to meet him at the bar, you were ready to tell him you were breaking up with him, and you had been mentally preparing yourself to not cry.

"I hope you are well, I'm afraid I have some bad news." Tighnari states, pushing a paper and a pen towards you. "You are fired. I am also breaking up with you - your empathy is something I cannot work with as an employer, as well as a boyfriend."

It was like a slap to the face, you were ready to just cry a little bit at the conversation.

But instead of being sad, you're angry. Grabbing the pen, you feel several sets of eyes on you as everyone around you is seeing and hearing everything. Signing the paper aggressively, you slam the pen down as you make direct eye contact with your now ex-boss and ex-boyfriend.

"You did this to embarrass me. You did this to emphasise something I already know - I cry too much." You spit out, not a single tear leaving you as you got straight to anger.

"Fuck you, Master Tighnari. I hope I never see you again."

#gender neutral reader #genshin impact imagines #angst #tighnari x gender neutral reader #tighnari x reader

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keravnous · 1 year

Text

desperado! ; tangerine/fem!reader (smut 18+)

read pt. 1 here | read pt. 3 here | read pt. 4 here

The Twins are laying low in Amsterdam. Growing bored of being stuck in the hideout all day, Tangerine decides to explore what the shifty parts of the city have to offer at night.

word count: 12,9k

warnings: i mean if atj can dance then tangerine can too, tango dancing bc it's very sexy and steamy ok; car sex, head while driving, oral (male receiving), masturbation (female), fingering, rough and passionate sex, undernegotiated kinks: (light) spanking, daddy kink (once or twice), unprotected sex, choking, pet names, dirty talk, name calling, hotel sex; they steal a car bc why not, short intro from tangerine's pov, small glimpses into his dysfunctionality, rather slow story development at the beginning, i still have very strong feelings about this angry man so please, have this

title is from the song of the same name, desperado by rihanna

the songs they're dancing to are esta noche en vivo by carlos libedinsky and otra luna by narcotango

mel said: kinda sad we didnt get to suck his dick in bathroom b!tch and I said: same

The air is still warm and a little humid despite the late hour, filled with laughter and the sweet, sweet smell of alcohol and marihuana, sweat and summer. Tangerine takes another drag from his cigarette, watches how the smoke curls into the dark sky, illuminated by the colourful lights of the city. He takes a deep breath.

He sighs, relishes in the way his shoulders relax. He feels alive -- again; finally. It's a real relief, has his limbs going a little slack. He had felt anger clawing at his chest for the past week now, the beast inside ripping his skin to shreds and lashing out with its razor-sharp claws - mostly at his brother. But since he had left the flat about an hour ago it has been curled up rather peacefully in his chest, with a satisfied purr in sync with his heartbeat.

Next to him, the water in the canals lays calmly, reflecting the city's lights and echoing the clinking of glasses and music that wafts through the streets. Tangerine passes by a restaurant, people sitting outside under string lights, drinking, chatting, eating and he watches them as he strolls by. They radiate happiness and it catches onto him like a wave, has him smiling at the sight. He takes another drag of his cigarette, enjoys the way the smoke burns in his throat. Jesus Christ, how he had missed this.

There just aren't enough books, good books, that can keep him holed up in a small flat for a whole fucking month. And thus, he had decided to break - well, bend - the rules a little tonight.

Their contact, Henk, had told him about that one spot where one could get anything: from alcohol to various drugs and weapons, maybe even a hitman. If one's lucky. And Tangerine does feel a whole lot of fucking luck pumping through his veins tonight, making him feel a little light-headed, stardust at the heels of his shoes.

His chest feels light and his feet are practically flying over the cobblestones, a smile toying with the corners of his mouth as he lays his head back, watches the illuminated sky above - exhales smoke, inhales the night.

A group of students staggers by, laughing and cheering, passing a bottle of liquor around. His gaze follows them, nostalgia tearing at his heartstrings as he remembers the times when Lemon and him were just that - young and without a care in the world.

Now, their hands are sticky with blood - metaphorically, he had washed his well and thoroughly after last month's job went wrong - and they are both in hiding. Again.

Lemon insisted it would be careless to go out at night, at any time of the day really - "That's bollocks, mate. You can't just go out, can ya? What if they sent someone after us?" -, but especially if it was just to have some fun. Because fuck fun, right?

But, there is nothing else to do anyways, with the way his brain always, always finds a way back to his own recent failure and how it was linked to Bolivia.

Bolivia -- it still leaves him sleepless and shaking sometimes, just like tonight.

Tangerine had been pacing the living room craving a drink until Lemon fell asleep, and then decided that he needed a change of scenery, something to take his mind of the carnage and its debris.

"Yeah, let's just all go fuckin' insane in that flat, huh", Tangerine huffs to himself, looking at his phone. It beeps, signalling him that he is getting closer to his destination. His feet carry him through the streets of Amsterdam, a warm summer breeze rustles his silk shirt and cools his warm skin as he passes by restaurants, bars and closed book and flower shops.

Eventually, he comes to a halt in front of a launderette: Wassen bij Muriel.

The neon lights inside are on, illuminating the sidewalk in a cold white. He blinks. There is no one inside but an old lady behind the counter and a grimly looking man sitting on a plastic stool in the back corner. He can hear faint music coming from behind the glass door.

To an unsuspecting tourist it would look like a rancid shop but to him, it doesn't. Tangerine knows better, has been to a lot of places like this.

"Alright", he says - lets his neck crack once, twice and throws his cigarette away - before pushing the door open, the bell above ringing.

***

You watch your friend leaning down towards the young woman, sitting in a darkened corner. Your father never wanted you to befriend any of his third or fourth row dealers but you never were one to follow rules, always going for the next thrill, the next rush of adrenaline. But tonight, there's been no rush so far, no tingling of your veins - just pure and blank boredom.

You had picked out your favourite dress in the prospect of being offered to dance with a handsome stranger, even ditched on the underwear to make sure the thin fabric hugged your curves nicely, but the men in here are mostly uninteresting, ordinary - simple dealers or lowlife thugs, street criminals that steal money from unwary tourists.

You watch how your friend, with a quick sleight of hand, exchanges cocaine for money, laughing at the woman like she is an old friend and then makes his way back to the bar. He winks at you and squeezes past a young couple, orders himself a drink.

You swirl your glass between your fingers, watching the remaining puddle of wine running up and down its walls - dripping down like blood - and then bring it up to your lips, emptying it in one sip. The taste is warm and full, rich and you close your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to get lost in the strumming of the band's contrabass and the red wine on your tongue. It reminds you of that one time in Bogotá, when you and your father had visited his suppliers - wine and music melting together with the summer heat, having you dream of the jungle, old villages, and the beaches of private islands off the coast.

Your father had dragged you along once more, this time to Amsterdam, despite your pleas not to - "You will have to take over one day and I want you to be prepared" - and you were gladly sneaking away when your friend invited you to spend the night at his favourite bar.

It is a tango joint and a beautiful place, an old basement with low ceilings and a small bar, people and furniture bathed in colourful neon lights. Purple and red are dancing across faces and sweaty bodies - swirling over the dance floor or pressed against the cold walls, tongues shoved into mouths - reflecting off glasses and expensive jewellery.

It is a place where people like you and your friends get together: the upcoming generation of an international crime elite, sons and daughters throwing away their parents’ blood or drug money, getting high and drunk hidden by the shadows of the night, staying awake until the sun rises again. It's a place where people like you mix and mingle with those working for your families, a welcome change to a certain hierarchy at something a civilian would naively call a safe space.

You open your eyes again, as the band starts to play a new song, blinking while your eyes adjust to the dim, colourful lights. There still are couples swirling across the dance floor to the sensual rhythm of the tango, that the small band in the back is playing. You let out a sigh at both, the loneliness and the boredom creeping in on you, and turn around on your barstool to order yourself another drink as --

Your shoulder suddenly connects heavily with something firm and warm - triggering a muttered Fuckin' hell - and a second later the man, who you just bumped into, turns around. He looks pissed, left eye twitching.

"'M sorry", you say quickly, a little taken aback by both: his anger and his beauty. The former doesn't seem to last very long, with his lips tilting up a little, eyes gleaming mischievously while they dance over your frame.

"Apology accepted, love", he has a strong northern British accent, like some of your father's business partners do.

But he is arguably a lot more handsome than any of them are. Dark, combed, and slicked back hair that curls right over his shoulders building a nice contrast to his light blue, short-sleeved silk shirt, unbuttoned down to his belly - exposing golden jewellery. The necklace shines warmly against his pale skin, glimmering purple in the dim lights.

It might be the alcohol and the loneliness but you really, really want to just dart one hand out, run it over his chest and his neck, feeling his warmth and the few locks of chest hair, smelling and tasting the scent of summer on his skin.

You wonder what he does, what his profession is. The 70s porn-stache, vintage Rolex and golden rings scream Miami and you can't help but imagine him in the hot sun, bare chested, blood on his hands - red red red - cutting open bricks of cocaine -

"May I get you a drink, love?", his voice pulls you out of your daydreams and you blink. He must've caught you staring.

You know, that men like him usually mean trouble. And yet, you can hear yourself say: "That'd be very nice, thank you."

He lifts two fingers up, signalling the man behind the bar that he wants to order something and you notice that his knuckles are bruised. Blue and green mixing with the red of the scab, partially healed. There are scars on his forearm, meandering between his tattoos and up up up his arm below the soft, expensive silk of his shirt.

The goosebumps that erupt on your skin are nothing but pleasant as you immediately know what type of man he is. Everyone in here is on the market for something: drugs, love, sex, guns - but rarely does one sell murder. Real, cold-blooded murder. Ruthless, fast, dirty.

He's trying to hide it but watching him as he discusses the menu with the bartender, it sticks out like a sore thumb: the well-mannered gestures crash with his fucked-up hands, the way he's dressed like a drug-selling pimp refuses to fit in with his sugar-coated talk and the way he moves can't hide a lingering anger, like a raging beast pacing in a cage.

It is a carefully put together façade, but it's no use against you. You know men like him and you know them well. They don't scare you - quite the opposite, and thus the pure and utter danger he emits has excitement tingling in your stomach. As fucked up as it is: it makes you want him - adrenaline kicking in, shooting a tingle right between your legs.

He turns around again and you lean forward a little, deciding to make your move soon.

"'S a Mezcal Margarita alright with you, love?", he asks and you throw him your most charming smile, nodding.

"We'll take two then, mate", he nods and slides a few bucks over the counter, watches the bartender pouring liquid into a cocktail tumbler.

"Sooo", the man turns around towards you and grins, shows some teeth as his hand vanishes in the pocket of his linen trousers, pulls out a cigarette and lights it up. He's taking a looong deliberate drag, puffing out the smoke, "What's your name, sweetie?"

"Y/N", you reply, gaze dropping to his lips and back up, where his gaze catches yours. He has beautiful eyes, blue like the fucking sea and the purple neon lights make them glow with mischief and smugness - dark and oddly promising, inviting - framed by long lashes.

One of your fingers brushes over his hand, that is resting on the counter. The wooden surface is sticky with half-dried alcohol. His gaze holds yours while he takes another drag of his cigarette. You just might lose yourself in the hue that dances over his eyes.

"And you are?", you say, just loud enough to be audible over the music.

His gaze drops to your fingers that are brushing over his golden rings and he chuckles: "Don't ya try stealing those, sugar, I know that fuckin' trick", and you smile innocently, as he leans in a little, "Name's Tangerine, love." There are cheers erupting from the dancefloor, the rhythm of the music picking up.

You pout playfully and his eyes dance over your face, glimmering mischievously. "Oh", you sigh, "And here I was, thinking you'd may even give me your real name."

"Can't, love, m'sorry."

"Mh pity -- who did you kill?"

"Who said I killed someone?", he's dangerously close now, voice a low rumble.

"Your hands", your fingers dance over the crust of his knuckles and his eyes gleam. For a moment he says nothing and then, towering over your sitting form, voice low and rough:

"Aren't ya afraid o'me, love?"

"Terribly", and he grins at that, his eyes holding yours captive.

"Bet you are", Tangerine hums, barely audible and sticks his cigarette between his lips, one hand darting up, has his thumb gently grazing over your chin.

The touch is nice, soft and gentle but firm, in full control. It makes your chest tingle, sends a wave of pleasure through your body. His eyes flick over your face and you find yourself growing a little hot under his gaze. You wonder is he's going to lean in, ditch his cigarette and --

The bartender places two glasses in front of you and it makes you snap out of it for a second, noticing how close Tangerine got. His thighs are touching your knees and his face is so so close to yours, noses mere inches apart.

"Thanks, mate", Tangerine says, pulls the glasses closer. You watch him - slender fingers getting a little wet with condensed water, cigarette between his lips, chain and bracelet rustling with the sudden movement. There's a thin film of sweat glistening on his chest and it has your thighs clench with raw and utter want, wanting to put your lips onto the firm the muscles, licking his skin clean.

The way his body still presses against your knees, is electrifying and you decide to invite him in more. You let your knees fall apart, making way for him. His gaze drops down and he chuckles to himself but moves in nonetheless, one of his hands gently coming to a rest on your thigh, holding you close and in place. The touch shoves the soft, flowy silk of your cowl dress aside, the slit in the fabric exposing your thigh. Tangerine's hand is warm on your skin, rings pressing cooly against your hot flesh, as he starts groping you - thumb digging into your thigh and you gasp quietly.

"Been wantin' to ask -- what's a pretty girl like you doin' in a place like this, huh?", he says, cigarette bobbing up and down in the corner of his mouth.

"My friend sells blow here", you say truthfully - not a full lie and yet not the complete truth, but you know better than to trust a stranger with your ties to your family's business - and piqued interest flickers through his gaze.

Tangerine then, very languidly, takes another looong drag from his cigarette and taps some of the ash on the counter, holding your gaze with his own. "D'you sell yourself, love?"

You laugh at that, violently shaking your head. "Hell, no."

He chuckles, eyes roaming over your face. "Well, looks like I got myself a good girl, then eh?", he knows what he is doing, voice low and deep and you swallow.

"I wouldn't say so", you whisper, "But why don't you come a bit closer and find out?"

Tangerine flashes a grin, shows his bright bright teeth, one of his hands coming up and stroking his moustache while he shakes his head in disbelief.

It's stupid. Very fucking stupid. He shouldn't. He should get the fuck out of here - quickly. This is dangerous. She might be, too.

Instead, he looks up again. Ah, fuck it - fuck the rules. Lemon will get it - maybe. Ultimately, he will, simply has to - with the beast inside rattling the cage.

Tangerine leans in, his hand on your thigh sneaking up, making its way over your hip, your side and then cups your body, thumb digging into your flesh underneath your tit. Your heartbeat picks up as he pulls you close and you nearly yelp, scooting forward on the barstool, your hand coming up and grasping his forearm, holding on to him. "Well, why don't we fuckin' drink to that then, love?", he rasps, the hand resting on the bar pulls your glass in.

With a shaking hand you take it, fingers closing in around the cool glass and you watch him raising his, bud of cigarette nearly touching it. He is exhilarating, demanding and firm underneath the attire of a gentleman and it has your head swimming, wetness pooling between your legs. Excitement bubbles up in your chest, wondering where the night may, will lead.

"Cheers, love", Tangerine smirks and winks at you, both your glasses clink. He is still so so close, your knees still hitting his hips and his tongue runs over the edge, licks the salt away slowly, playfully until he downs half the Margarita in one go, like it's water.

You raise one brow, carefully taking a sip. The salt on the edge of the glass tingles on your lips and the liquor burns nicely in your throat as you take another. It's a hellishly strong cocktail and you wonder if he's a regular drinker. A lot of people like him - call them what you like, assassins, killers, hitmen - are.

Tangerine eyes the glass in his hand, weighs it from left to right a little, then nods to himself in approval while you take another sip. He instead downs the other half of the cocktail and puts the glass back on the counter. It's a quick, routinely movement and you come to realize that you may be right. You decide to not give it too much thought, because he's hot and he freed you from the boredom threatening to swallow you whole tonight and because everything about him has your blood singing with the gleeful promise of adrenaline. You put your glass next to his and look up at him through your lashes. He catches the invitation.

Tangerine throws his cigarette into his empty glass and then leans in again. The tip of his nose brushing over yours, the sensual music entangling both of you as his gaze flicks over your face.

You hook one leg around his waist and he moves in closer, pressing yourself against him, one hand on his arm - to anyone looking over you might even seem like an actual couple, enjoying the night out - and hunger burns in his eyes. His lips brush over yours and you know he's toying with you, keen on him leaning in to fucking kiss you already --

The music stops.

There's sudden silence as the band passes a bottle of whiskey around and the two of you freeze, blinking dumbfoundedly. The silence is odd, stalling both of you but you can't help it, feeling like drowning in the dark dark blue of his eyes, shimmering with green in the purple light. You can hear Tangerine breathe quietly with him being so utterly close to you and it's nice, comfortingly human and you can't help but smile against his lips still hovering over yours, a gentle gesture that is being reciprocated by him.

You're a little dizzy with it too, the alcohol, lack of fresh air and his body warmth mixing together, making you a little unsteady. He has pure and raw want tingling in your belly, your hand on his upper arm clenching around the firm muscles a little, thumb brushing over the soft material. And then, just as the music picks up again, his lips brush against yours: "You don't happen to wanna dance, do ya, love?"

"Fuck yes, thought you'd never ask", and Tangerine laughs, a deep, pleasant sound that rumbles in his chest and offers you his hand.

Yours runs down down down his arm and closes around his, while he's making some room for you to slip off of the barstool and then he's pulling you close again - your body pressing smack against his side as he's dragging you along to the makeshift dance floor.

The crowd still cheers, applauds the band and the bandoneon plays the few first chords of a new song. Tangerine gently takes your hand in his, thumb cupping your index and middle finger as your palm rests against his. His other hand sneaks around your waist and rests and the small of your back, holding you close. He looks at you and you feel like drowning in his eyes, pupils blown wide and you wonder when he'll show first signs of being drunk, with the way you already feel a little warm, light-headed. In a few minutes, maybe an hour you'll learn that he holds his liquor way better than you hold your own.

He is even closer to you now than before at the bar and now you can smell his perfume through the thick cloud of smoke that wavers through the basement's air - he smells nice, deep and rich of citrus and a little of vanilla and cigarettes, reminds you of the summer you've spent in Palermo once.

Tangerine gently places one hand below your shoulder and yours comes up, rests on his shoulder, just as he starts to move to the music. He takes a step backwards, guiding your forward and gently guides you through the crowd - a steady back and forth in rhythm with the tango.

Tangerine's hand still holds yours, guides your arm until it is stretched out and then it abandons your hand, runs down down down your arm very gently, pads of his fingers brushing over your soft skin, hairs on your arms rising. A shiver runs down your spine as his fingers cradle back between yours, a smile tugging at his lips.

One of his legs pushes between yours while he manoeuvres you backwards, hand on your waist holding you close. Tangerine presses himself against you, heat radiating off of his body with both your arms still stretched out and you grip his hand tightly, leaning back. You arch your back, raising one leg and hooking it around his waist as his gaze locks with yours. You can feel his crotch pressing against yours, with the way the skirt of your dress hikes up your legs. He is warm and a little hard already, has the breath hitching in your throat and arousal igniting your loins.

Tangerine leans down a little, lips still curled up in smile and then pulls you up like you weigh nothing and you stretch your legs in a delicate, slight split as he twirls you around, your chest firmly resting against his.

His arm presses onto your back, holds you close until your feet touch the ground once more and he immediately guides you sideways with a few long and slow strides until he comes to a halt. One of your arms wraps around his shoulders as he holds you close and you stretch your leg out, your heel gliding forward over the concrete floor of the basement, stretching your leg out in front of you and then gently sliding it backwards into a deep lunge, your body following the movement. You lean back and Tangerine follows, leans down and towers over your body.

He holds you there for a moment, chest rising and falling, brows furrowed a little before he carefully helps you back up - immediately embracing your body once more.

The music speeds up and so does he while guiding you over the dancefloor, face close to yours with unbreaking eye contact as you swirl over the concrete.

At the next strum of the contrabass, you take a step back, arching your back. Very playfully you sway your hips, shoulders loosely following while one of hands rests on his forearm, the other lays in his hand, feet tapping the floor rhythmically with the movement of your hips.

You know that he has a perfect view of your body, your hard nipples being visible through the thin fabric of your dress. His gaze drops down, watches how the silk plays with your curves, eyes growing a little darker. You move in and Tangerine pulls you close, your hand intertwined with his resting on his chest and his lips ghost over the shell of your ear, moustache tingling. "No underwear, I reckon, love?", he hums, the fingers of his other hand brushing over your waist.

And you shake your head, whispering: "No, none", and it has his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, a low chuckle escaping his throat. "Fuck me", he breathes and holds you close while moving over the dancefloor, one hand gently but firmly resting on your ass cheek, hiking the hem of your dress up a little.

The touch ignites you and you press against him, leaning in, nose brushing over his jaw, eyelids fluttering. You are pressed against each other, movements slowing down and blooming into a languid sensuality in dance: long strides, toying with him a little - turning your head away, stretching your arm out, only for his hand to gently caress it - feet wrapping around his calf, leg pushing between his. Tangerine is patient with the little game you are playing, unerringly keeping the lead and you in your place.

You wonder if he fucks like he dances. It makes your skin going hot, imagination running wild and breath hitching.

The song ebbs and the crowd applauds and the two of you come to a halt as well, but not parting, not partaking in the celebration of the band. You are clawing to him, breath going fast and heavy and so does his, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. His hand momentarily rejects your waist to brush through his hair and then returns. His touch is firm, a little rough and you sigh contently.

Some people are looking your way, intrigued by what got over the two of you, enticed by each other and oblivious to the surrounding world. It's a dangerous thing - letting your guard down, for both of you - but you couldn't care less.

Tangerine smirks down at you and licks his lips. "D'ya know what ya do to me, dove?", he says quietly and you know but you feel the same, and thus, your hand brushes over his shoulder to his neck and you nestle your bods against his.

You wonder if he can feel your raising heartbeat, smell the lust and the excitement spreading in your body. You look up at him, fingers burying themselves in his locks.

"Mhm - do you?", you reply just as quietly and Tangerine chuckles, eyes falling shut.

Your bodies stay like that, closely pressing against each other with the music picking back up. You gently rest your forehead on his temple, leaning onto him as he holds you close. You can't help it, you just want to fucking touch him and your hand runs over his shoulder to the front, gently moves up his throat and then cups his jaw, fingers brushing over the clean-shaven skin. It's soft and warm and you can feel, hear him take a deep breath.

Moving across the floor slowly, Tangerine's body turns into an anchor for your long, ardent strides; his strong arms holding you up during each turn, muscles twitching beneath your touch. He is so so close to you, so warm - each one of his steps lingering with desire and it washes over you like a wave, has the hairs on your body standing up.

You sink against him, falling into his embrace, arms clinging around his neck and his hand is pressed on your shoulder, the other remains in the air uselessly as he looks down in surprise, brows furrowed. He can see, feel your chest heaving, a quiet whimper escaping your mouth.

Then, his lips curl into a smug grin.

Tangerine carefully twirls you around, hands gripping your waist and pulling you closer. Your back rests against his chest and you can feel the tip of his nose brushing through your hair as his hands move over your body - one resting on your belly, the other gently cupping you below your breast, feeling the way your heart races against your ribcage, and his touch sends shivers down your spine, has arousal shooting right between your legs. You remain this way for a few beats, the blood in your veins pumping with the rhythm of the music, feeling his strong frame pressing against you - his breath on your temple and his cologne wrapping you in. His body radiates warmth and you can feel his chest rising against your back, his hardening dick pressing against your ass.

Lust tingles in your stomach looking up at him and, at the next strum of the contrabass, you take his hand and twirl out of his embrace. Tangerine follows and pulls you back in and your hand crawls up his arm, another one resting on his neck. His gaze locks with yours as he leans down, tip of his nose brushing against yours.

The hands on your back keeps you close, a dark shadow resting over his eyes, turning them into a deep deep sea. He slowly guides you forward with two long strides and then firmly hooks one arm around you, lunges backward a little and you follow his movement, bending your leg and resting it against his groin. His hard cock presses against your thigh, and he leans in, lips brushing over yours before straightening both of you back up, heels of your shoes connecting firmly with the ground. Tangerine swirls you over the floor and manoeuvres you through the dancing couples, until he eventually, when the space arises, grabs your hips once more. You let yourself fall, upper body leaning back delicately, enthralled by his strength and the way he guides you through the dance, and he pulls you back up.

Your hand runs up his chest, fingers clawing at the silk as your gazes lock once more. You suck in a few breaths, his scent clouding up your mind, hand running higher and higher, thumb cupping his cheek and fingers resting in his hair behind his ear, earring pressing cooly against your skin.

His lips are slightly agape, eyes you up and down, while his hand presses you close. "Yeah, fuck, you wanna take this elsewhere, love?", he rasps and you nod, eyelids fluttering with the hidden promise.

All the while Tangerine navigates you through the crowd, he holds you close, blood pumping in your ears with the way the music makes your chest vibrate, his scent clouding up your mind - only him him him.

As soon as you are out on the street Tangerine is onto you again, pulls you close in the bright lights of the laundrette and kisses you like a starving man. His arms wrap around your waist, pressing you against him, tits flush against his chest, as his tongue licks into your mouth. Your hands run up his arms, one of them curling his neck and the other cupping his jaw. You can feel his hard dick through his linen slacks and it makes you hot all over, wetness pooling between your legs. You break the kiss, heaving against his lips.

"Fuck", Tangerine huffs, hand on your waist wandering down, cupping one of your ass cheeks. You mewl, eyelids fluttering. You're desperate to touch him, for him to fuck you.

"My hotel's nearby", you whisper and it sounds so fucking needy, "We could take the tram?"

"Yeah sure, lead the way", and you do, stealing another long and sloppy, hungry kiss from him and then he's pulling you close, holds you by his side as the two of you rush down the streets of Amsterdam - heels clicking, sweet nothings on the tip of your tongues. Some people turn their heads, voyeurism kicking in at the oddly hot couple with the air around them cracking with their energy, watching how the two of you rush by - the woman giggling and clearly a little drunk, hands roaming all over the man's chest, while he holds her close, thick British accent wrapping her in.

That is, until he stops dead in his tracks next to an alley on a rather empty street.

"Oi, wait a bloody minute, love -- would'ya look at that", Tangerine looks down an alleyway and you lean in closer, trying to get a look at what he's seeing, peaking over his shoulder on the tip of your toes. His hand is still resting on your waist, fingers splayed out.

"What?", there's nothing. Just cars parked beneath a warmly glowing streetlight in a dark alley.

"That", his finger darts out and points at a beige convertible.

"I -- that's a car?"

He looks a you, a little offended.

"That's not just a car, love. That's a 1966 Cadillac Coupe DeVille."

You blink, watching him while he eyes the vehicle, fingers brushing over his stache absent-mindedly.

"What are you thinking 'bout?", and it doesn't even take him a second to reply: "I wanna steal it."

Well, that's a surprise. "You wanna steal the car?"

"Yeah, I got this fuckin' thing -- 's kinda like compulsion, innit?"

You raise your eyebrows and he looks at you, lips curling up in an amused smile that's looks an awful lot like Sugar I can't change it, now can I? and before he can come up with something witty to go along with it, you say: "Yeah fuck, alright. Let's do it."

He laughs, eyes you up and down. "Ya naughty little girl, eh."

You can feel your skin growing hot, hand brushing over his forearm, leaning in a little. His eyes gleam. "Show me what you can do, babe", and he does, wraps one arm around your hips and strolls over to the car, carefully eyeing the alley.

The windows are rolled down and he grins. "That's an easy one, love, watch it", his hand brushes over your hip and the touch has goosebumps erupting on your arms, running down down your back and you nod - fuck yes, you'll watch.

Tangerine leans against the driver side's door and reaches inside through the rolled down window. You don't know what exactly he's doing but you can see the way his muscles work underneath the blue silk, as he grabs the handle and then, suddenly lifts the door a little out of its frame. The lock bursts, and for a second your muscles tense, body anticipating alarms going off and reading to flee.

Nothing happens; no sirens erupting - just the door swinging open lazily.

Apparently; obviously this is not his first time stealing a car. The thought of him just taking what he wants does something funny to your stomach.

You peak inside. It is an old-timer, with one large seating bench in the front, instead of two seats. Tangerine is holding the door open for you.

"After you, Lady", and he fucking winks at you.

Crawling onto the seats you make sure to make a little show out of it. You can feel his gaze roaming over your body as you bend down, until you eventually sit down in the middle of the front row seat. Tangerine sits down next to you and you immediately close the distance between the two of you, pulling one leg up, knee resting firmly on the soft beige leather and pressing against his thigh. The fabric of your dress hikes up, the slit exposing your leg up up up to your groin.

The sight distracts him for second, as you throw a look over your shoulder and out of the rear window, into the night. The alley still lays silent and deserted - but for how much longer? Tangerine watches you tensing up next to him.

"Easy, love, just a minute", he huffs and pulls an envelope out of his pocket, takes out a set of lockpicks.

"Oh, so you just carry that around with you?", you blurt out, blinking.

"Yeah", he says casually, bends down a little, trying to get a good look beneath the steering wheel.

If you were to be more of a thief and less of a drug lord's lazy daughter, you'd be able to identify his choice as a Lishi lockpick.

You watch him as he carefully sticks it into the keyhole of the ignition, slooowly starts to move the tool forward and feeling for the contact of the wafer. Quiet clicking sounds fill the humid air.

You can tell, that Tangerine is showing off a little, trying to impress you with speed and precision. He squints his eyes a little, brows furrowing and eyeing the small lock while carefully turning it clockwise.

It jams.

"Bastard", Tangerine curses underneath, pulls the reader of the lockpick back and carefully feels for the missing contact, tuuurns it --

The engine jolts alive, purrs lowly and the headlights snap on.

"There ya go", he mutters, "Piece 'o piss, eh?"

You snort at his vulgar cockney but you must agree - it did not take him more than two to three minutes, from breaking the lock to starting the engine. It shouldn't, but it does turn you on a little.

Tangerine is slamming the door shut and whips out his phone, handing it over to you. "Type in the address, love, would ya?"

You do and then quickly discard it into the cupholder - you want him and your fingertips tingle with it, wanting to touch him and being touched by him. The female voice - uncanny valley personified - of the google maps assistant pipes up and if you weren't so very fucking intoxicated by him you would laugh.

Instead, a fresh wave of desperate lust takes over you and your hands are onto him again in no time, one crawling up his arm, the other resting on his thigh and feeling his muscles work as he backs the Cadillac up. Tangerine chuckles, throws you a quick look before he is steering the car out of the alley.

You are aching for him to touch you, to be closer to you, hand tugging at his shirt a little while you lean in, nose brushing over the side of his throat.

"Jesus, love", he huffs, "Can't keep ya'self together, can ya?"

And you mewl, shake your head and then your lips are closing in around the exposed crook of his neck. Your tongue laps over the sweaty, hot skin, tasting him - his cologne mixing bitterly with his sweat and you hum, gently sucking at his soft skin.

"Fuckin' hell", Tangerine's right hand abandons the steering wheel, coming to a rest on your exposed thigh brushing over your skin. The tone of his voice has your head swimming, spurring you on, encouraging you. Your eyelids flutter as your tongue comes loose:

"Want me to suck your cock while driving?", you say, looking at him - the tips of your fingers are playfully brushing over his shoulder, silk of his shirt rustling under the feather-light touch.

He snorts, shakes his head a little with disbelief, before looking back at you. It seems to click.

"Bloody hell, you're serious, aren't ya?", and you blush a little. You can see the way his Adam’s apple bops as he swallows, eyes aimlessly darting over the road, considering.

The google maps assistant pipes up again, chirps out the directions and then falls silent again.

"Yeah, no, that's a very lovely idea", he rasps, and then: "C'mon love, get to it."

And you do, mouth watering at the same time your sight drops down to his linen slacks, the fabric wrapping around his muscular thighs nicely and pressing firmly to his crotch, exposing the outlines of his hard dick straining it.

Your hand wanders up his leg - feeling his muscles twitch as he hammers down the gas pedal, racing by the light switching from yellow to green - and then sour fingers close in around his cock. It is large and hot through the fabric and just feeling it has fresh arousal pooling between your legs, making you hum, before rubbing his bulge through his trousers. Tangerine's right hand leaves your thigh and comes to a rest on your neck, thumb rubbing over your warm skin and making way for you, giving you some space and encouraging you further.

It's a nice, somewhat patronizing touch that is pushing all the right buttons, has you quivering with excitement.

You make quick work of his slacks, pulling the zipper down - already bowing down a little, stretching your lower leg out on the seat behind you - until you open the fly up. There's a damp stain on his dark silk boxers and your mouth fucking waters, before you pull the hem down. His cock springs free lazily and your breath hitches.

Tangerine's cock is large, cut and a little curved, resting between neatly trimmed pubic hair - vein at the bottom pulsing and the tip already flushed, precum glistening in the low light of the passing street lamps.

You can't wait to suck it, taste it, feel it inside of you -- you are fucking hungry for it, spit pooling around your tongue and heart beating in your chest. Arching your back while bowing down between his lower body and the steering wheel, you put your lips onto his dick, kissing from the base to the top, his musky scent wrapping you in, clouding your mind. You can hear him hum, a nice and deep sound, and the city rushing by through the rolled down window.

Your tongue flicks over the head of his dick, lapping at the precum, circling it. The way he tastes - salt and musk - has your head swimming a little, wetness pooling between your legs.

It makes your brain go mushy, hazy and one of your hands brushes over his thigh, desperate to being closer tohim, to make it feel good for him, caressing the warm skin beneath your touch before you blink up at him.

"Fuck, you got a nice cock", you nearly moan as your tongue betrays your brain, impatiently opening your mouth and letting him slide in a little, feeling him pressing hard and hot against your tongue.

"Shit", Tangerine laughs roughly, hand grabbing your neck as his dick twitches against your tongue, "D'ya even hear yourself speak, girl? Fuck."

You smile to yourself, a little coy, and you start to move your hand up up up his muscular thigh, palming his balls through the linen and then grabbing the base of his cock, slowly jerking him. Tangerine groans, breathing loudly, the city passing by.

Spit runs down his dick over taking him in deeper, pools between your fingers and you flick your wrist, moving your hand in rhythm with your tongue.

The car comes to a halt at the next red light, as Tangerine hits the brakes carefully. Your eyelids flutter and then your gaze darts up, meets his while you are releasing his dick from your mouth a little.

Tangerine moans deeply as tongue swirling around the thick head of his dick once more, his gaze boring into yours. "Isn't that just a lovely sight", he groans, right hand brushing through your hair, while the left grabs the steering wheel hard.

Tangerine watches you, traffic light long forgotten, how your tongue licks over his cock, your eyes looking up at him through your lashes. "You fuckin' minx -- ya do like behavin' like a slut, don't ya", and you smile against his cock, a quiet Uh-huh leaving your lips, before they close in around the tip of his dick.

His eyelids flutter as you start to suck, bobbing your head a little, tongue rubbing over the tip of his cock. "Fuckin' hell", he puffs his cheeks and throws his head back a little, exhales theatrically. The traffic light switches from yellow to green and you let him sink deeper into your mouth - the engine roars. You are certain he's close to breaking the speed limit, veins bursting with adrenaline and testosterone but you couldn't care less, the musky taste of his cock hazing your mind, lust taking over.

You feel yourself growing wet, cunt aching and you surrender to yourself, complying to your body's wishes, as one of your hands slooowly dips between your legs and underneath the hem of your dress. Your fingers brush up your thighs and over your slick folds, mentally thanking yourself for not putting any underwear on, mostly due to the unbearable heat and your skin-tight dress - but it sure does come in handy now, too. Your index finger flicks over your clit, just as his cock slides deeper into your mouth.

It feels fucking nice, the way Tangerine's dick is hard and heavy and hot on your tongue, his taste and scent engulfing you, the way you rub your clit has lust spreading through your body, moaning around his cock.

And then suddenly, Tangerine hits the breaks, hand hammering down on the horn. One of your hands darts out, barely catching onto the dashboard as you are thrown forward. Blood rushes in your ears, hastily sucking in a few breaths through your nose while you sputter around his cock.

The maps assistant chimes up in that second, reminding the driver that he will need to go right at the next intersection but --

"Ya fuckin' prick, imma fuckin' shoot ya in the fuckin' head ya stupid twat -", Tangerine yells and your head immediately pipes up, abandoning his dick and looking out of the windshield. Tangerine is just speeding up, passing by the car in front of him, angrily looking inside. "Ya dirty fuckin' chav, I got a right fuckin' lady with me 'ere, ya git", he spits and the man slowly turns his head. First, he looks at Tangerine, a cascade of insults flying his way and then he looks at you, smudged mascara and spit on your chin, your lips wet with it. You can see the wheels in his head turning, eyes growing wide as they drop down to one of your hands - the one that is still holding Tangerine's cock - vanishing between his legs. The man blinks and Tangerine flashes him the finger, before speeding by.

"Fuck about -- that fuckin' arsehole, love, could've killed ya drivin' like that", he grumbles, throws him one last look in the mirror, "Seriously, where did that prick get his license, the bloody fuckin' lottery?"

Tangerine's eye twitches and you can see his pulse speeding up, aorta pressing thickly against his neck, pumping. He is like a force of nature and a mental image of him, covered in bruises, blood and sweat flashes before your eyes - chest heaving and knuckles bruised, hair curling and framing his face like a halo, dripping with blood.

"You're so fuckin' hot when you're angry", you mumble and then you're bending down again, tongue licking over his cock, from the base all the way up the top, flicking around its head and then gliiiding back down.

A growl, a real fucking growl, leaves his chest, hand on your neck tightening. "You better get fuckin' back to it, love, Jesus fuckin' Christ", his voice is coarse and it gets you going, makes you wet wet wet and has your head diving back in, tongue lolling out of your mouth as his dick slides back in.

"Atta girl, fuck", he groans and then his hips jolt up, pushing his dick deep into your mouth and you hum around it. You start to bob your head up and down, meeting his thrusts - your hand abandons the dashboard to clutch his thigh, nails digging into the flesh a little.

Tangerine moans at both, your hot and wet mouth sucking him off and the slight pain that blooms in his thigh, dangerously mixing with the anger pulsing in his chest and he throws his head back.

"Just like that, fuckin' hell love", his hips buck, shoving himself deeper into your mouth. The sudden intrusion has you choking a little as he hits the back of your throat, spit gathering around the corners of your mouth while you sputter around his dick - jaw going slack and his hand finding its way into your hair, fisting it as he starts to fuck into your mouth.

Holding your head in place his cock hits the back of your throat, steals your breath. Your nose is buried in his pubes, inhaling his scent - sweat and musk - more saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth, wetting his locks. You relax your throat and whimper around his dick, the way he uses you has fresh wetness spreading between your folds, squelching sounds filling the air as your finger is joined by a second, rubbing tight circles over your clit.

You moan around his cock, strangled noises escaping your throat while your rock back against your fingers, choking around the head of his cock hitting your throat.

"Shh, shh shh", he tuts, a little breathless, "Daddy's got ya, mh pretty girl? Lemme just--"

Tangerine's right hand lets go off your hair and then you can feel it sneak past your back, a feather-light touch brushing over the silk of your dress. It travels further and then grabs your ass, the sudden rough touch has you moaning around his dick once more. Your eyelids flutter as he pulls the fabric up up up, fists it and exposes you to whoever or whatever may rush past the passenger side's window. Your fingers speed up at the thought while his hand kneads the flesh of your cheeks.

"Fuckin' pretty", he hums, taking another quick look at the way your head bobs up and down his cock, "All over my cock like that, pretty fuckin' slut."

His hand wanders further down and before you can process it, one of his fingers circles your hole, feeling your slick and your plump folds. "Jesus Christ", he nearly groans, "You just love sucking cock, don't ya?"

That you do, whining around his base as the thick head of his dick hits the back of your throat again, with your fingers still working your clit. "Let me help you with that, love", and with that he pushes one finger in, up to his golden onyx ring, nestles it snugly between your hot walls. They clench around him and the sensation - the lingering promise of more - has you squirming a little.

Tangerine gives you what you want, need - finger curling a little, digits brushing over your spongy hot walls, before he slooowly pulls it back out. It circles your hole once more, quickly joined by a second, before he pushes them in again, starting to fuck you fast.

You moan, feet kicking a little and eyes tearing up at the sensation, with his dick pushing further into your throat and your fingers rubbing your clit, quickly has your muscles clench and cunt squirting.

"Yeah, just right 'ere, love, huh? Gettin'ya all loose 'n wet f'me? Such a good girl, aren't ya?", obscene sounds fill the air as he fucks your slick back into you, bottoms his fingers out, rubbing over the spot that has you seeing stars.

Tangerine moans deep in his chest as his cock starts to fuck into your mouth again and you let him use your throat gladly while his fingers pump in and out of your cunt, accompanied by the way your fingers flick over your clit rapidly.

The lack of fresh oxygen has you bucking against his hand, choking and sputtering around his cock that rams deeply in your throat but your stomach still flutters with it, lust igniting your loins and limbs tingling with it.

You can feel the muscles in your abdomen clenching, heart racing in your chest. Your fucking close and he seems to notice, too, his moans barely reaching your ears through the blood pumping and engine roaring. Tangerine nestles his fingers deep deep inside of you, rubbing over your walls and the spot that has you seeing stars, eyes falling shut and moaning against his cock.

It is all too much and your chest heaves as you finally cum, muscles clenching around his fingers, hips stuttering. His dick pulls back a little, tip resting hot and heavy against your tongue and then, his movements still.

"Open up your pretty mouth, doll, lemme see", he rasps, barely keeps an eye out to the street and you comply, fucked out mind making everything a little hazy, a little slow. Your jaw goes slack as you open your mouth, giving him a perfect view of his dick resting on your tongue.

Tangerine looks at you: mascara pooling beneath your eyes, lips swollen and red and jaw wet with spit and then comes too, shoots ropes of hot cum into your mouth. He watches the way it paints your tongue white, some of it landing on your upper lip, slooowly dripping down, running over your chin.

You swallow and then your tongue darts out, licks over your lips and then darts out, licks his cock clean, too.

Slowly, with your mind still foggy and limbs a little heavy already, you get back up. Your fingers brush through his remaining cum on your chin, wiping it away and letting them slip into your mouth, licking them clean. "Jesus, love", Tangerine's voice is a little coarse, gaze darting back and forth between your mouth and the street, as he carefully pulls his fingers out of you and your body closer instead.

You yelp, pressing yourself onto him, of your knees resting between his spread legs. None of you fucking care anymore, lust tugging at your brains dangerously, daringly. His hand, fingers still wet with your juices, brushes over your waist, grabs your ass and you lean in, lick over his throat, tasting his sweat and cologne.

"Can't wait for you to fuck me", you rasp, hands brushing over his chest, his necklace jingling, down down down, hand brushing over his cock and carefully putting it away, his clothing back in place.

Tangerine huffs, google assistant chiming out a direction, indicator clicking loudly as he sets it and then his hand comes up quickly, grabs your chin hard and holds your head in place. You look at him, deer in the headlights, holding your breath and then he's pulling you close, locks his lips with yours. He can taste himself on your tongue licking into your mouth, pulls you close.

You don't know how you made it to the fucking hotel alive, with Tangerine's hands roaming over your body, lips locking occasionally while he was speeding down the streets, cutting corners and red lights.

The two of you barely make it through the lobby and into the elevator, until Tangerine is onto you once more, presses your back flat against the cold, bronze metal. "I'll fuck ya so good, love", his dick is already hard again, pressing against you through the linen of his trousers and the satin of your dress, "'S gon' be all you'll be thinkin'bout for the next weeks." In a little more than an hour you will come to realize that he is right. You will be thinking about it for weeks. But now, there are only his lips roaming over your throat, occupying your mind and letting you drift back to a hazy, lustful state, with his hands feeling up your hips, your waist.

Eventually, the elevator piiings lazily and the two of you rush out it, like you are on the run from your own lust, hand clutching his as you quickly make your way down the hall to your suite. You unlock the door and turn the dimmed lights on inside. The room's just like you left it, guns and cash on the coffee table, soft light coming from the bedroom on the left. The window there is still opened, a soft breeze rolling in through the light curtains.

Tangerine throws the door shut behind himself and immediately grabs you by your waist, pulls you onto him, hand on your back on your ass as he leans down, devours you with a kiss. His tongue pushes into your mouth while he manoeuvres you backwards through your suite. Your hands dart out, catching the doorframe of the bedroom and you grab it hard, using it as leverage as you push back against him, your crotch rubbing against his. Tangerine grins against your lips and grabs your hips hard, makes you moan into the kiss.

He breaks it, chest heaving a little. "Fuck, love, imma ruin ya." Your breath hitches at that and your hands let go of the doorframe, wrapping around his neck instead like you're on some sort of fucking autopilot. "Yeah fuck, please", you whisper.

It takes Tangerine a moment, gaze growing a little soft before the beast takes over again, a gleaming dark hue turning the blue into an endless ocean and he hoists you up, carries you over to the bed.

He is carrying you like a caveman would his bagged prey and he tears at your dress just the same, one hand shoving the straps down your shoulders. Then he's onto the zipper, sliiides it down and throws you onto the bed.

You land onto the duvet with a soft thud, tits bouncing a little and his gaze follows the movement hungrily, before he tugs at the hem of your dress, pulls it down and throws it to the ground carelessly.

Tangerine just watches, gaze hungrily moving over your naked form, slooowly starts to undress himself. His slender fingers unbutton the silky shirt, button by button in an agonizingly slow speed. You know he's deliberately taking his time with you and it works, has your body quivering with anticipation and lust, one of your own hands running up your body, cupping your tit. He lifts a brow as he watches you tweaking your nipple and the haughty disdain has your head swimming, legs falling apart. "Please", you whisper, pussy aching for his touch, "--Need you."

The silk falls open, still hugging his shoulder and Tangerine continues watching you, playing with a ring on his finger, just like he's playing with you. It's cruel but it has lust building up in your belly, shooting arousal down between your legs and making fresh wetness pool between your folds in a way that you just know, that his touch will be heavenly.

And yet, impatience taking over, you mewl and in a desperate attempt for any sort of attention - for him to just fucking touch you again - you scramble to your knees, stretching out on the mattress and pressing your body flat onto it, ass high in the air. You know that he'll see it: your wet cunt, glistening in the dim light, hole clenching desperately around nothing. You feel exposed and at his mercy alone, and the degradation and danger of being unarmed like this in the presence of a killer, has your heart racing, thighs rubbing together for any sort of fucking friction.

Tangerine bellows out a laugh, surprised and dark, can't really hide either how turned on he is, and then his hand comes down on your ass. The sound bounces off the walls and has your bods jolting forward, first a gasp and then a moan falling from your lips, hands fisting the sheets. "Ya dirty fuckin' whore", he groans, hand groping your already reddening flesh. You can hear the silk flowing down to the ground and then he is pressing his crotch against you, fine linen against your wet cunt.

It's electrifying, the rather rough material pressing against your soft skin, your slick immediately wetting the fabric as your start to roll your hips against it, rutting over his clothed dick. Tangerine's cock is so so hard, hotly pulsing through the linen and you can feel its curve pressing against your pussy. You whimper, hips stuttering.

"Jesus Christ, love, can feel ya through my fucking pants -- lemme see", Tangerine groans and then grabs your hips hard, stalling your desperate movement, shoving them forward a little. You can feel his gaze dancing over your cunt, hear him whistle lowly, hands spreading your ass cheeks, assessing your slick. One of them comes loose and then --

He gives your cunt a light slap - the slight pain and degradation making your head swim - has you squirming on the mattress, a whiny Daddy, please escaping your lips. Your mind fogs up, all hazy with lust and his perfume, aching your back for him, pressing your chest flat against the sheets.

Tangerine pouts at you, eyes gleaming playfully. "D'you wan'it that bad, love?", and you nod nod nod, wiggling your hips as you chant - a desperate Yes yes yes escaping your lips, muffled by the mattress - hands uselessly darting out for any leverage.

His middle finger runs through your folds and you tremble, goosebumps erupting on your arms, spreading all over your body. He spreads your slick and his other hand comes up, kneads the flesh of your ass, spreading your cheeks further apart. "Always fuckin' wet f'me, innit? Picture perfect cunt ya got, love."

You mewl, throwing a glance over your shoulder to see him watching your hole clench around nothing. His eyes gleam. "Shit", you huff out as his finger brushes over your clit, feet curling a little and he grins smugly - Bastard - and gives your ass another sharp slap. You groan and then his hands are off you, making work of his trousers.

You watch him get fully undressed and your mouth waters at the sight. Tangerine's body is covered in scars, smaller round ones from bullets and larger, longer ones from knives and nasty fist fights and you want to crawl to him on your knees, kiss and lick them, worship them and him - his body, his tool of death - like he's your very personal reincarnation of Ares.

His dick springs free as he drops his boxers, completely exposing his muscular body to you, dusted on body hair and tattoos and scars scars scars and in the moment, that you can see precum glistening on the tip of his cock, you realize that you had already missed it. You fucking missed his dick. The thought has warmth spreading on your cheeks.

There's a light pat on your hip. "C'mon love, turn around. Wanna see your face while I fuck you nice and proper", he hums and your eyelids flutter, humming deeply in your throat at the proposition, turning around and laying on your back.

The mattress dips as he sinks down on his knees, chest flushed a little - the golden necklace dangling between your bodies - and then he's onto you, crawls over your body like an animal, leaves sloppy kisses on your skin, tongue licking over your nipples, stache tickling.

"Oh fuck", you huff, hands darting out and finding his hair, gently tugging at it. Tangerine's lips move over your throat and he sucks, makingyou gasp, throwing your head back as he marks you up.

"Spread ya legs f'me, sweetie", he rasps against your jaw and you do, knees falling apart. He grabs his dick with one hand, the other one supporting his own weight next to your head, rubs himself along your folds, using your slick as lube. "There ya fuckin' go", he huffs and then the thick head of his cock presses against your hole.

"Fuck, yes", you whimper, hot with anticipation, one hand leaving his hair and clutching around his shoulder. And then, he finally - fucking finally - puuushes in, your hole stretching around his girth a little, dull pain spreading excitement across your body.

Tangerine groans. It's a low and honest sound, has his chest vibrating against yours while he looks down to where your bodies meet. "Shit, fuckin' hell", he says, hand abandoning his dick as he slowly slides into you, fills you up and spreads your walls, grabbing your inner thigh instead. The way he spreads your legs is delicious and you hum, his dick is completely seated inside of you.

He lifts his gaze once more, looks at you. His eyes are dark, a stormy stormy sea, a few loose strands falling into his face, curls of his hair freeing themselves from the hair gel. He looks like a fucking god. "Fuck", you say, lowly, hole fluttering around him, stomach tingling at the sight.

"Ya cunt's so fuckin' tight, love", he growls and you can hear, feel it on your skin, that he is having a hard time holding back, "'S perfect, Jesus Christ."

Tangerine rolls his hips, once, twice and you moan, fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulder. "'S good for ya, too, love?", his nose brushes over yours, lips ghosting over your cheek. "Yeah, fuck", you huff, and then he's onto you, licks over your lips with his tongue and shoves it into your mouth, invites himself in. You lick over it, lips locking with his, stealing the air from both of your lungs. It is a sloppy kiss charged with energy and lust, your hands tugging at his curls, making the thrusts of his dick more feral, as he forces himself in deeper, groaning into your mouth. In return you moan, chest heaving against his, tits rubbing over the muscular skin.

His lips brush over the corner of your mouth, breathes against it, stache tingling a little as they move down to your throat, kissing and nibbling at the skin, marking you up.

"Fuck", you gasp at the stinging sensation, pulling his hair and he groans.

It feels nice; the way he is fucking you - you push away the thought that it's dangerously close to actually making love - the way he feels inside of you, how his body feels against yours, but it's also not enough. You need more.

A whine escapes your mouth, all desperate and needy and breathless and his movements still for a second.

Then, Tangerine looks up at you, dark blue eyes meeting yours. "Tell me what you want", he whispers, hand groping your thigh and dick buried deep deep inside of you. You can feel it twitch inside of you and your breath hitches. "Want -- want you to fuck me", you say quietly, "Like - hard."

"Aint' ya just a fuckin' dream, poppet", he growls and then his lips are unto you once more, licking into your mouth, teeth catching your lower lip; licking and kissing your lips until their sore while picking up a faster rhythm, pounding into you.

Tangerine eventually breaks away from you, leaves you panting and straightens up until he's kneeling between your legs - rolls his hips into you with his dick fucking in and out your hole, accompanied by an obscene squelching sound. One of his hands grabs your thigh hard, rings digging into the flesh, and then he's hoisting it up, resting your ankle on his shoulder and you moan at both: how deep his cock now pushes into you and the way Tangerine looks.

A thin layer of sweat covers his cheeks and his upper body, chest and cheeks flushed, a few strands of hair falling into his face as his brows are furrowed, lips slightly parted. You can hear him breathe heavily, occasionally moaning when your walls clench around his cock, squeezing him. He looks like a fucking porn star, with his defined muscles working beneath the skin and the golden jewellery, a soft summer breeze rolling in through the opened window, toying with his hair. Tangerine's gaze is glued to his dick that rhythmically pumps in and out of you, watches the way your juices squelch around the base of his cock, balls slapping against your wet skin.

His free hand runs up your belly and cups one of your tits, squeezes it, rolls the nipple between his fingers - the bracelet around his wrist jingles and the rings are cold against your skin. You hum deeply, breath ragged and fingers clawing at the sheets desperate for any leverage, while his deep thrusts throw you back and forth like a fucking ragdoll, tits bouncing and gasps falling from your lips.

Your mouth falls agape, watching Tangerine through hooded eyes and dark lashes and his gaze crawls up up up your body until it meets yours. It is accompanied by his hand, ditching your tit, and brushing up your neck, cupping your jaw and then falling in the crook beneath it, pressing down. The sudden lack of air has the muscles in your legs tensing and he feels it, too, mischief illuminating his face, his eyes, as you gasp for air. You know he could kill you then and there, watch you as your lights fade out and as fucked up as it is, it has your rutting your hips against him, spurring him on.

Tangerine furrows his brows and picks up a quicker rhythm, hand closing in tighter around your throat, rings pressing down onto your windpipe, and you lay your head back, feeling the stretch as he's choking you. The lack of fresh oxygen has your chest heaving, body surrendering to him and the way his cock pumps into your hole fast and deep, lust igniting your nerves. Tangerine can feel you clenching around his dick, wetting his trimmed pubic hair as you squirt, slick dripping down his balls and staining the sheets below. The beast inside him roars, thrums against the bars of its cage, his ribs and he sees your eyelids fluttering, cheeks prettily reddened.

"Atta girl", he groans, fingers giving in a little and you suck in a few deep breaths, before he presses them back down again. It's too soon and your hands dart up, clutching in around his wrist, bracelet jostling and clinking under your touch.

The cage breaks.

Suddenly, quickly, with the force and speed of a predatory animal, Tangerine lets go off your throat and flicks his wrist, catches both of yours in an iron grip and pins them above your head, down onto the mattress. His body follows the stretch of yours, bending over you, holding his own weight up with a hand that crashes down next to your chest. He is feral and it should scare you, especially as air floods your system again, lifts your mind out of your foggy state just a little, but it just doesn't no fight or flight kicking in. The way Tangerine hovers over you now has your leg on his shoulder bend, too, allowing his dick to fuck into you deeper, delicate pain from the stretch of your back igniting your loins.

Ragged breaths escape his throat while he pounds, ruts into you and you lose yourself in both, the sound of his utter pleasure and the way your body feels: on fire, chest tight with your approaching orgasm and raw lust, pure want, that chews up the ends of your nerves, has your limbs tingling.

Tangerine's hand keeps your wrists in that iron grip of his as he rolls his hips into you, dick hitting your cervix, his fingers digging into the flesh of your wrists. You throw your head back, gasping with each of his thrusts and his eyes follow your movement hungrily, groans as your eyes roll back. There's a strong pull in your abdomen and your hole flutters around his cock, his balls slap against your wet skin.

"Fuck fuck fuck", you whine, high pitched moans falling from your hips as he ruts into you, "I'm gonna cum, oh shit --"

Tangerine's eyes fall shut, a throaty moan erupting deep from his chest when your muscles tighten around him. "Yeah, shit love -- that's it, fuckin' cum f'me", he rasps, forehead coming down to a rest on your shoulder.

And you do after a few more of his deep thrusts, whining and legs kicking a little, shakes erupting in your chest as you press against him. Everything goes white as you ride your orgasm out on his dick, moaning and gasping as he does, too, shoots thick and hot ropes of cum into you, painting your walls and pulsing deep inside of you.

Tangerine moans, coarse and raw and his chest heaves, presses his nose into the crook of your neck - but you barely notice it, too far gone, mouth agape and legs shaking.

It takes you a while to come down again, eyelids fluttering open lazily. There's a hand on your cheek, a deep hum near your ear. "Welcome back, love", Tangerine says quietly and then, "Ya did so good for me, eh?" You mewl, stretching your legs a little. Your whole body feels sore, his cum leaking out of you and into the sheets. All you want to so is to get up and clean yourself up, but your legs are so so heavy and you just feel so so tired. Tangerine seems to notice, too.

"You stay here, darlin', imma get you something to clean you up", Tangerine says, voice coarse but soft and he gets up, just as a fresh breeze rolls in through the curtains, blows them up and sends them flying a little. The forecast prognosed heavy rainfall for next week. The air already smells like it a little - damp and mushy.

The breeze cools your sweaty skin, has you sighing with content while you watch Tangerine's naked form as he is walking to your bathroom, muscles in his legs and butt working nicely with each step.

***

It has been over a week and this is his third night. It starts to feel like a fucking stake out.

He feels incredibly silly. Silly for coming here again. Silly for lying to Lemon - again. Silly for ordering two Margaritas. Silly for drinking both.

Tangerine leans against the bar, elbows planted firmly on the sticky wood, smoking a cigarette. The band, same musicians, play a soft and melancholic tango. The air had cooled down a little after yesterday’s rain and maybe, just maybe, that'll be the summer's first soft goodbye before it will go down in a last great huzzah with a hot Indian summer before autumn takes over the city.

He wonders if he will still be in Amsterdam by then, if he and Lemon will watch the leaves fall. There is an offer for a job in Japan and he is considering to take it. He'll have to talk to Lemon about it.

"Anything else for you, Sir?", the bartender asks. And Tangerine nods, orders another Margarita. The bartender takes the empty glasses away and he stares at the wood. Oh, he's just so bloody fucking silly, isn't he?

He takes another drag from his cigarette, shifts his weight from one foot to another and rubs his eyes. She won't come. He knows.

She just won't. Tangerine did have a suspicion who she was, has heard stories about her father and he knew, as soon as he had laid eyes on her, that he was in big, big trouble. He wonders if he had already taken her away, wanting better for his daughter than a no-good ordinary killer. Did not want the danger in his life that came with a man, who potentially could be holding his daughter for ransom at some point or worse, could get her killed.

He gets it, though. He would probably do just the same.

"There you go, Sir", the bartender says and Tangerine just nods, suddenly feels very very exhausted and just barely notices that something, someone is moving next to him.

"Can you still afford to buy me one, too?", a familiar voice says, "Or did you burn it all on car insurance?" He chuckles, feels a sudden burst of energy surging through his veins, straightens back up and slowly turns around to her.

"Wasn't my fault, 'prick was driving like a fuckin' loony."

She chuckles and the noise makes his head swim, a strange fluttering feeling in his stomach. He wants to tear his chest open and claw at it, rip it out. That is how much it fucking scares him. How much she scares him.

"Wasn't sure if you were coming back", she says, casually, calmly like she thought about it so much she's just used to it by now.

"I'm not leavin' that soon, love", he says, signals the bartender that another Margarita is in order.

"Where you going?"

"Tokyo, love. Probably -- most likely."

"Come back in one piece then", her smile is genuine. And he knows, that he just has to now.

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine smut #tangerine x y/n #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x you #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine imagine #my writing #smut #bullet train #bullet train 2022 #aaron taylor johnson

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spennsrs · 4 months

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schlatt x reader that loves schlatt when he's put on a couple pounds :(( reader holding him from behind and just kissing his back when he doesn't have a shirt on in the kitchen or smth. "you're so beautiful, yknow that?" i have brainrot ‼️‼️ schlatt not believing reader so reader just has to keep praising schlatt every chance they get so they keep leaving little post it notes around the mirror about his body :(((((

(\ (\ („• ֊ •„) ━O━O━━━━━━━━━ ・:。YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ︳jschlatt x reader drabble ︳fluff ︳self indulgent bc i jst wanna tell schlatt how handsome he is :(( also MY BFFIE REQUESTING <3 /p + reader can cook rly well and they Feed our boy well

the house was quiet, the bedroom dark with drawn curtains. it was late at night... or maybe early in the morning?

schlatt didn't know, and frankly, he didn't care. he couldn't sleep. he didn't even know why he was up still.

it was probably silly. maybe it was the cause of his recent insomnia. there were great things about having a significant other who could outcook even the likes of gordan ramsey. well, at least schlatt thought so. said great things include being well fed and eating incredible food.

but there were also bad things. well, bad thing. he did let his walls down a little when he and [y/n] started dating, yet he wasn't one to voice his insecurities often. his main insecurity was the reason he was staring at the full-length mirror on the back of the door into the bedroom.

his weight.

schlatt stares at himself in the reflective object shirtless, careful to not break the silence the night brought to the shared bedroom. reflections were a weird thing, mirrors in general were weird. maybe vampires were on the right track with the no reflection thing. his hand rests on his stomach, pushing, poking gently... he wasn't necessarily angry or unjustly sad, just as much as he wasn't.. happy with how he looked. with a soft sigh, his hand falls to his side again and his gaze never breaks from the mirror. his eyes over examine every part of his body visible to his gaze, and oddly enough... that's when he spots it, on the corner of the mirror. was that... a sticky note? multiple? his hand reaches up to gently yank the papers down, reading the handwriting.

'you are so absolutely amazing' 'you're beautiful the way you are, inside and out' 'do you realize how incredibly handsome you are?' 'if you could see what i see, maybe you would understand why it is so easy to love you for who you are'

schlatt felt like he was going to cry. no had ever said such... gentle words to him, nor had words ever touched him like this did. he kept reading the words, then rereading... it was almost too good to be true. he knew he was way lucky in the significant other department, scoring someone as fantastic as [y/n] was a mystery he would never understand, and chose not to.

a warm pair of hands draw him from his train of thoughts, jumping a bit as his eyes are drawn to the mirror before him. schlatt could see the familiar arms of his lover wrapped around him, their left wrist adorned with the silver bracelet he had gotten them for their two year anniversary.

"did i wake you, sleepyhead?"

his voice is soft, and it's tinged ever so slightly with emotion as his hand comes up, gently caressing their arm. there's some movement against his back, and he deciphers its his lover shaking their head. that's good, at least he didn't disturb them.

"you're beautiful, jay." schlatt feels his heart constrict at those words. of course they knew. they had a way of reading schlatt like a book, often picking up on his turmoil on certain topics before he even knew himself. a small smile tugs at his lips as he pats their arm. no words came from him, none needed to. "no matter what you look like, what you sound like, or what you do, you will always be beautiful to me, and i'll always love you."

and maybe... just maybe... in that moment, schlatt could let himself believe it was true, because the love of his life said so. who was he to deny their words?

#marnie's writings #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt #requested by :: yumiis !#alex my beloved /p #YOU ARE SO BIGBRAINED #chuckle sandwich #chuckle sandwich x reader

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ladykailitha · 8 months

Text

Well Met By Moonlight Part 5

Hi guys, I want to thank everyone who commented on the most recent Royal Pain and all the people that commented on the Midsummer's AU. I saw some that I hadn't seen comment in awhile and it made me so happy to see them back. I missed you all.

Here we have more of Wayne being badass. I know it feels like he's the main character right now, but trust me it will shift to the younger members soon enough.

And I got the chapter two to work finally, so I will be linking to the original from now on.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

***

Sun down on the following Saturday saw Wayne Munson in front of the whole town. Businesses closed. Only the hospital, fire and police station remained opened and they only had the most basic of crews.

Behind him on his left were Steve and Nancy and on his right were Billy and his bride, Heather. In front of him were the five boys that had attacked Steve.

Mayor Roberts stood between the two sets holding a microphone, he too was flanked. Sheriff Danny Powell stood on his right and Jim Hopper stood on his left.

“Welcome everyone. It is a sad day in Hawkins when we have to meet like this. I know it is hard on the lives and livelihoods of the people of this fair town. But a sickness has come to this town. The mindset of those not like being othered, seen as monsters and demons.”

The crowd murmured and hummed.

“But this town was not founded on those ideals. It was founded on peace and brotherhood between all its people. The humans, the vampires, and the werewolves. For nearly one hundred and fifty years this town has stood as testament to kinship that it has fostered. Which is why it is with much trepidation I have made the decision to let Sheriff Daniel Powell go as police chief of our fair town.”

The murmurs became more angry and sharp.

“He was told by several members of this community that these five boys before me were up to no good. That they would cause harm. Vampires and werewolves alike came to your sheriff with concerns and he waved them away. Regular people such as yourselves came to him that these boys meant serious harm to the supernatural members–nay to your neighbors and still he waved them away. Is that the type of man you want to protect and defend your town?”

Sheriff Powell looked down in shame as the crowd let out small cries of distress. Because no, that wasn’t what the town wanted. Most of them had thought him a good man. But this cast doubt on that very image. If he would turn a blind eye to a threat to a supernatural person, would he do the same to a black man or woman of ill repute, just because he didn’t care for their kind?

“Jim Hopper has graciously offered his assistance in stepping back into his old position of police chief. He will hold it until it is time to elect a new sheriff and with hope he will run then, as well.”

Hopper smiled and shook his head. “We’ll see,” he growled.

Mayor Roberts smiled back. “I will now turn the time over to Wayne Munson.”

Powell moved off to the one side and Mayor Roberts and Chief Hopper moved to the other. Wayne stepped up and an eerie silence descended on the crowd.

“It appears I’ve been too soft on this town,” Wayne growled, his voice reaching every corner of the town hall without the aid of the microphone. “Hunters think they can just come into my town, my territory and hunt people like a pack of feral dogs.”

The boys were forced to kneel in front of the crowd. Their hands were tied behind their backs and they bowed their heads.

“These are the children you raised,” Wayne told the crowd. He picked up something from the table next to him and held it up. “A foot trap made of silver. Considered inhumane to animals used to trap a nineteen year old boy, not much older than themselves. Yes, Steven Harrington is no average boy, but he is young nonetheless.”

He threw a few feet in front of the crowd, it clanging noisily to ground, the people in the front leaping back. He picked up the shattered pieces of the cross they had nailed Steve to.

“They bound him in silver to a wooden cross!” Wayne snarled. He threw the pieces after the trap.

The whole crowd gasped in horror as the pieces clattered to the floor. He picked up the final object off the table and held it above his head.

It was a metal bat. Not silver, but deadly all the same. The tip was rust red. Wayne threw to the ground as he had done the others. “They were beating him with this.”

“These are your children!” he growled. “Have I not been good to you? Have I not been kind?”

There were murmurs among the crowd.

“You have forgotten you are are under my protection!” Wayne roared. “Without me the pack and coven would have free rein of the town, like the roving gangs of old. You are fortunate that the current alpha and Dominus are generous. Do you not recall the terror that ruled under alpha Jack Sullivan before I tore his pack to pieces? Do you not remember the children that were be experimented on under the Dominus Dr Martin Brenner? Before Billy Hargrove came and cleaned out the lab and the coven that reeked of death?”

The crowd was stock still. Pin dropping would sound like thunder in that hall.

“Five years for Brenner,” he continued. “Ten years for Sullivan. Mere drops in the bucket of time for someone as old as myself, but to you? Far too long. That they were able to hide from me their ills for as long as they did, was an abomination. But they were summarily dispatched when I did find out.”

The crowd became restless.

“So I have passed judgment upon these youths,” Wayne said. “The two younger boys, Joshua Bentley and Chance Nelson will learn the ways of the pack and of the coven. Spending six weeks with each sect to unlearn the hate you taught them.”

The crowd let out a sigh of relief. That was good punishment for the two boys.

“Andy Duncan will be tried as a child,” he continued. “For criminal mischief and conspiracy to commit assault. It is likely that he will be forced to spend his time at a youth facility where he will remain until he turns eighteen. Then it will be up to the courts to move him to an adult facility or release him.”

The crowd took up the murmuring again as this was a little more harsh then the other boys, but still lenient.

Wayne grabbed Jason and Patrick by their collars and hauled them bodily to their feet.

“As for these two boys,” he snarled, “the mayor wants to try them as adults for use of an illegal trap,” the boys rolled their eyes, “assault with a deadly weapon,” Patrick gulped, but Jason was still smug, “conspiracy to commit murder,” Jason was mentally counting the number of years he would get and tilted his head like it was acceptable while Patrick turned white, “and for attempted murder.”

Jason looked shocked for the first time, he didn’t think they would go for the attempted murder charge, he had been told by his lawyer that it was unlikely because of how young they were. “And because of the laws of this town are unique, they will also be tried for supernatural hunting. A crime punishable by death.”

Patrick fainted and Jason threw up. Josh who had been sitting nearby, leapt out of the way of the vomit.

“But I am merciful,” Wayne continued, slowly lowering the unconscious Patrick to the ground. “They will spend time with me for six months and then I will make my own recommendations to the judge on the charges to proceed with.”

That was when Jason fainted, right into the pile of his own sick.

The crowd’s relief was palpable. Everyone was murmuring with agreement and elation.

“Let this be a lesson to you all,” Wayne concluded. “I am merciful, but test me one more time and you too will face my wrath.”

“Go!” he barked and everyone in the hall turned and fled.

All that was remaining was the mayor, Sheriff Powell and the six supernatural beings.

“Will you being staying in our town?” Wayne asked Powell.

Powell shook his head. “No. I got a job lined up in Chicago. I wasn’t meant for small town politics. I put my own prejudices ahead of the lives of the citizens of this town.”

“You still gonna be a copper?” Hopper asked.

Again he shook his head. “No, I can’t risk making the same mistake in a bigger town. I’m going to teach self-defense.”

They all nodded.

Mayor Roberts patted Powell’s arm. “You’re a good man who made a bad decision, don’t let this moment define the rest of your life.”

Powell nodded. He gave the mayor’s shoulder a squeeze and walked away.

“There goes a deeply troubled man,” Nancy said. “Do you think he’ll be all right?” She hugged her sides.

“Chicago is the best place for him to find that out,” Billy said. “It will either consume you or learn enough about yourself to survive.”

Steve put his arm around her and she leaned into his comfort.

“I hope the town can heal from this,” Mayor Roberts said. “There has been so much pain and hurt in this town in the last decade. I’m not sure how much more it can take.”

Wayne shook his head. “This town survived two world wars and a Great Depression, it will survive this.”

Mayor Roberts smiled sadly. “It is good to have such a long perspective, my friend.” He squeezed Wayne’s shoulder and slipped away, leaving behind the three vampires and three werewolves.

Hopper scratched the back of his head, sheepishly. It was strange look on the werewolf. “I’ve never been police chief and not the alpha before.”

“I prefer it,” Billy said with a low growl. “It means the werewolves are a little more even in terms of power in this town.”

Steve nodded. “I agree. It’s better this way. The sheriff needs to be supernatural in the way that the mayor must be human. A vampire sheriff would be weak during the day and even having a thrall as deputy would divide the power in a way that would make them weak. But a werewolf being sheriff ensures that everyone has a say.”

Wayne nodded back.

“Thank you for coming out, Steve,” he said, “I know this wasn’t easy for you, reliving your trauma.”

Steve scoffed. “If I didn’t, I would look weak and open myself and the pack to further attacks. Not just from the anti-supernatural quarter either. Other packs would think us easy prey. Vampires would attack us to feed on.” He glanced over at Billy and Heather and sneered. “I don’t have the favor of the current Dominus, not like our previous one did.”

Hopper looked down at his feet.

Billy smirked. “Come on, Heather,” he drawled. “Let’s go, babe.”

Heather simpered. “Anything you want.”

Billy licked his lips slowly. “Promise?”

She giggled and they walked out, with his arm around her waist as he whispered dirty things to each other.

Wayne watched them with a shake of his head. There were some disadvantages to having such a young Dominus. With a sigh he turned back to the werewolves.

“Thanks for doing this, Jim,” Wayne said, patting his back. “I know it’s not easy to come back this job, especially since you were hoping to spend more time with Jane.”

Hopper sighed. “I just hate that I have to step up in this way.”

Steve kissed the top of Nancy’s head. “Let Hop take you home, I still have some things to go over with Wayne.”

Nancy nodded and slipped out from under his arm.

Steve and Wayne watched them go.

“I was always surprised you made her alpha female,” Wayne said thoughtfully. “Not after what happened between you.”

Steve hummed. “I didn’t have a lot of options. It was either Joyce or her and I didn’t trust Joyce.”

Wayne nodded. “Who would have you picked if you had your choice?”

Steve smiled fondly. “Robin hands down, but right now she more valuable to me as a keeper then alpha female.”

“You really do have a good head on your shoulders, Steve,” he said, his smile crinkling his eyes. “Now, go reassure my boy that kiss on Nancy’s head was friendly, eh?”

Steve frowned. Wayne pointed to the back of the hall where a solitary figure waited.

Steve shook his head. “Has he always been the jealous type?”

Wayne laughed. “No, just when it comes to you.”

Steve hopped down from the stage and strolled over to Eddie. He wrapped his arms around the other boy and kissed him deeply.

“Oh,” Eddie said with a blush.

“Yeah,” Steve murmured. “Only you, okay?”

Eddie nodded.

“Come on, sunshine,” Steve said, his voice low and gravely, “I’m going to spend all night showing you how much I’m only yours.”

“Point me in the right direction, big boy.”

The two went off, not as giggly and overt as Billy and Heather, but just as heated, and definitely more in love.

Wayne looked up at the ceiling. “If there is a god, watch over those two, please. They are going to need it.”

***

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @renaissan-vvitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @redfreckledwolf @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @just-a-tiny-void @potato-of-the-lord @goosesister

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #werewolf steve harrington #vampire eddie munson #ladykailtiha writes

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xdeadxxeyes · 2 months

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Regressed Vox HCs!

(Actually had a lot more than I expected oops)

⚓️ Rarely ever regresses. Avoids it at all costs if he can but it always comes back cause bottling things up makes it worse! (he does not learn)

⚓️ Due to all the stress and pressure of being the main Vee in charge as well as having a literal monopoly over the TV industry he tends to regress really really tiny like he’s just a lil guy, if he were to guess he’d say he age regresses from 4-8 years old but it’s more likely 2-6 (tell him he’s a big boy regardless it makes him happy)

⚓️ If Vox can feel himself regressing he’ll quietly get to the most isolated area possible as quick as possible - he rather keep his regression private

⚓️ Complete 180 with how he normally acts. He’s quieter and more reserved like bro does not speak at all and keeps his distance

…Until he starts coming out of his shell that is!!

⚓️ When Vox is out of his shell and with somebody he’s comfortable with (Velvette probably), he is a rambler, a yapper even.

⚓️ He can barely talk however 😭 just babbling and stuttering and tripping over his words - he had so many speech impediments as a kid and that just comes right back to hit him in the face

⚓️ He does not care however and believes he is perfectly understandable!

⚓️ Sharks on the mind, drawing sail boats, knows a ton about marine life - idk if anybody else gets this vibe from him but I feel like his hometown would’ve been a small coastal village near a big city

⚓️ Favorite candy HAS to be those shark shaped gummies

⚓️ Has a lil sailor hat he likes to wear instead of his top hat :>

⚓️ Makes little hums, buzzes, and trills sounds similar to a TV or computer as a way to stim

⚓️ Doesn’t really understand know how to ask for something he struggles with communicating… so he bites! Hungry? Bite. Thirsty? Biting. Wanting attention? Your fingers are gone!

⚓️ Will also just… stare. His big ol eyes are constantly staring at his caregiver (similar to the random little kid who stares at you at a restaurant like you own them money) mostly does this cause he’s curious but also cause he just loves his caregiver C:

⚓️ Will shock himself for fun (it doesn’t harm him 80% of the time and he thinks it’s funny)

(Do not let him go near any outlets he’s gonna cause a power outage on purpose)

⚓️ Very very tantrum prone. Cries when he’s angry and when he’s sad and it doesn’t take a lot to push him over the edge. Will not understand why his favorite stuffed animal has to be taken away to be cleaned it’s the most excruciating 10 minutes of his life

⚓️ But sometimes he’ll just have bursts of pent up rage coming out randomly (from bottling it up) where he’s just screaming and crying and also doesn’t understand why :< feels really ashamed about it later so he needs constant reassurance that it’s okay to feel angry

⚓️ Being so fr we all know Vox is a lil pathetic so when he regresses that translates to a ball of nerves. He is sensitive and if left alone with his thoughts for too long he’s gonna start bawling. However he also cries when being told something like “I’m so proud of you!” “I love you” “Good boy!” He starts crying bc he’s not used to genuine affection, like he’s happy but malfunctioning at the same time

⚓️ Ironically, Vox doesn’t like using (modern) technology too much when regressed. He is easily overstimulated by flashing screens and loud sounds to the point where he has to turn his own brightness settings lower 😭

⚓️ occasionally he’ll play a video game but not really cause he’s either messing around on MS paint or playing snake on a Nokia phone (he likes chewing on Nokias)

⚓️ Vox is honestly a huge hypocrite lol, he’s all for modernization but he keeps a 1950s model TV in all its black-and-white glory specifically for when he age regressed cause of nostalgia.

⚓️ He has old VHS tapes of a show called “Lassie” that was really popular in the 50s (For anybody curious it was a live-action show about a Border Collie named Lassie who’d go on various adventures and save people from danger its a rlly wholesome show <3) Vox also loves Huckleberry Hound! Yet another example of blue cartoon dogs being loved no matter what generation they’re in!

⚓️ Loves being read to, easiest way to soothe Vox is by telling him a story - he’ll remember every single detail and repeat it to his caregiver later with much enthusiasm

⚓️ The original Charlie Brown comic strips are also one of Vox’s favorites, he likes how warm the art style feels and of course - who doesn’t love Snoopy!

(Vox might just be a dog and shark person idk)

⚓️ Vox loves eating Legos! They’re very crunchy colorful! :3

⚓️ Always needs teethers/pacifiers for reasons stated above

⚓️ When Vox gets tiny he’ll try to handle it himself for as long as he can but if he can’t he’ll begrudgingly go to Velvette. Or she’ll go to him Vox is ridiculously stubborn

⚓️ Velvette. Ohmfydo she’s freaking OUT/pos

⚓️ She regresses way more often than Vox does and Vox is always insisting to care for her. So when she sees him regressed it’s always a treat! Girl is gonna be doting on him the same way he dotes on her

⚓️ Vox is clinging to her. CLINGING to her. As soon as she sits down he’s on her lap or he’ll be constantly following her and holding her hand

⚓️ Vox when he’s little tends to be more, feminine(?) Gender is gendering he lowkey has some internalized issues with gender expression (pls bare with him 😭) but when he’s little (and with Velvette encouraging him ofc) he likes wearing those long flowy night gowns c: they’re just more comfortable than pants or shorts to him! Not that he doesn’t love wearing suits and bow ties - he is a distinguished gentleman even when little

⚓️ Vox is not a girly girl but he does love playing dress up or having tea parties… he will get shy and feel ashamed about liking those things cause “he’s supposed to like boy things” that kind of mindset gets shut down quickly by Velvette once she gives him the reassurances he needs (GENDER AFFIRMATION BEAM GO!!)

⚓️ Velvette has given him so many nicknames. Of course love, darling, and sweetheart being commonly used. But also nicknames like little prince or little inventor. The one that Velvette uses most often and makes Vox the most giddy is probably pup. Cause pup is what baby sharks are called! He is just a silly baby shark <3

These have been floating in my head for weeks now ahdbfbsjfnnd I need to share them before I spontaneously combusted

I am so. Soft for little Vox way more than I originally thought he’s mostly a caregiver in my book but he’s adorable a little <3

- 🔮

OK HEAR ME OUT I PERSONALLY SEE VOX AS A CAREGIVER

but bc of these hcs

I see him as a flip (cg lean)!!

these were amazing I approve

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barcalover86 · 9 months

Note

Can u do a pedri angst where him and reader finally make it official after months of him chasing after her but the next day the paparazzi find him getting cozy with a girl qnd its all over the media and she feels embarrassed but he doesnt think its a big deal so they get into a fight but make up in the end

Breaking News- Pedri Gonzalez

S, f, a

I saw that you also asked someone else and they did it, but I am gonna still answer you, so I hope you will like this as well. Enjoy!

So here is Pedri's version:

Pedri fell in love with you months ago, and he knew that he wasn't your type. His schedule was always busy, and he didn't have time to be in a relationship, and you wanted something serious. That hurt him a lot, but he didn't want to give up on you. For weeks, he did everything to show you that he loves you and that he wants something serious, too.

After a lot of work, you agreed to be his girlfriend and it was the best decision. He was a sweetheart, always made time to be with you. You would go to his games to support him and he would always be there when you needed.

People knew that you were together, but it was not a secret, but a private kind of relationship. He tried to keep you away from all the social media, knowing how they could destroy couples. He tried so hard to be yours, and he didn't want to lose you.

Now, Pedri was coming home after a hard day. It was really late and he was tired, especially that people were all over him. He barely could drive, so he decided to open the window and to sign some things and make some photos for the fans.

He stayed there a lot, and right when he wanted to leave to come home to see you, a girl shouted his name to make a video of her. Pedri sweared in his mind before smiling at her phone. When he thought that she was done, the girl went over and kissed his cheek. People started to scream in surprise. Everyone was with cameras, and Pedri felt so bad.

He couldn't say much thing, especially to shout at her, knowing that this was going to be on all super media. He only said that what she did was rude and his face was really angry.

He left the place and went home to see you on the couch, waiting for him, sleepy.

He smiled at you and kissed you. The kiss started to become more hard and after some time you were both naked on the couch.

"If you are too tired we can-"

"No, no, please" Pedri interrupted you. "I really want it"

You smiled at his words and then continued what you were doing.

Next morning, you woke up in his bed, naked. The blanket being the only thing that was covering you.

Pedri was already awake, and you went to sit on his lap while he was playing with your hair. He put the blanket over your shoulders and kissed your neck slowly. The night you two had was magic. He made sure to make you feel good, and today, being his off day, made it even more perfect. You could be all day together and that made you both happy.

After he told you that he's going to take a quick shower, you went through your phone to see if are some news.

You were on ig and saw a lot of videos and photos of Pedri and some girl the night before. You knew it meant nothing, but the way he acted made you sad.

She was way prettier than you and you were afraid that he enjoyed her kiss.

When he came back from his shower and saw your uncomfortable face, he asked you what happened.

"Nothing"

"C'mon, Y/n, please tell me!"

"I said nothing, Pedri!"

He stayed silent for some seconds before speaking again.

"Did I do something wrong..?"

"Oh, really? I don't know, did you?"

"That's why I asked you!"

He was getting on your nerves now.

"I-" he tried to speak after you showed him the videos.

"I'm not mad"

He seemed to calm down at your words a bit.

"No?"

"I..I'm just...sad? Disappointed? Embarrassed?"

"Why!? Y/n, look, I'm really sorry, but I don't think it's a big deal..?"

You were shocked by his words. Not a big deal?

"Ok" you replied simply before dressing up and wanting to leave the house.

"Where are you going?!"

"Not a big deal, Pedro."

"No, no, don't go. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, please stop. Let's talk about it, please."

"What is it to talk? You already made a conclusion. Exactly as you said 'not a big deal', right?"

"Y/n-"

"I don't want to hear it."

"Please, don't leave me. Let me at least explain!"

"What to explain, Pedro, if for you it's not a big deal!?"

"I'm sorry I said that! It was so stupid, but I promise to you that I only said it to not talk about it because I felt horrible when it happened!"

"Oh, and you decided to not tell me, but sleep with me! How mature, Pedro!"

"No, no, please-!"

"Please, what?"

"Let me explain what exactly happened"

"Go on, then. Make it quick."

He explained everything that happened. Ehy he didn't want to make a scandal and just left without going into a fight. How he didn't want it to affect your relationship and how he is really sorry.

You also explained that you weren't angry with him or mad. You just felt insecure and embarrassed that he chose you out of everyone.

"For me, you're perfect, and I only love you, amorcito. Trust me, you have all my attention"

You smiled at his words and kissed him. That day, he did exactly what you told him, in a way to be forgiven. You were laughing at his silliness, but were so happy that you were spending time with him.

All day, he made sure to tell you how pretty you are and how important you are for him. He also promised that if something like that is going to happen again, he would make clear again that he has a girl home that he truly loves.

Masterlist

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freestyle-crocodile-trashpile · 10 months

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The reaction of Obanai , mitsuri , shinobu , rengoku and giyuu are fine! It's alright if you just two of them or one though.

I'm sorry for not being specific and thank you for responding ⊙⁠﹏⁠⊙

[A/n:You're fine, don't worry, and I took Obanai out since i know nothing about him, sorry. Thank you for requesting]

Summary:You die to save them

Type:Short Scenarios: Mitsuri X GN!Reader: Shinobu X GN!Reader: Rengoku X M!Reader: Giyuu X GN!Reader

Giyuu

He was in denial until he killed the demon

He refused to believe you actually died

He would quite literally go through the four stages of grief right there

And wend i say he was pissed, I mean it

He would get super mad, like start shaking

Then he'd realize the demon is dead so his anger would turn into sadness and he'd collapse onto you

He would cry and scream until the sunrised

Giyuu, would he be more distant

Before the hashiras knew what happened Shinobu teased him about being more distant

And he went off on her, the same day they all learned what happened

For once, Shinobu apologized to Giyuu

Mitsuri

She realized as soon as you didn't respond

She was still fighting the demon, so she turned around for a second and saw you laying dead on the floor

She'd call your name, completely forgetting about the demon you'd become her main concern

She'd throw herself to you no matter how bad it hurts

She wouldn't let go, pulling you onto her lap she'd do everything to see if your awake or not

Mitsuri may be the love hashira, but she had no more love for anything else in that room

She killed that demon in the most brutal way possible. The only love was the love for you, the one who is currently dead

Once the demon was killed, she collapsed by you, and just layed down against you

She would cry into your hoari until the Kakushi arrived and took you away

It was actually a battle for Kakushi to take you, since she wasn't down with you

But once she got back, everyone had heard. She was almost as quiet as Giyuu those couple of weeks she was grieving

Rengoku

He and the demon would be quiet for a second

Since it was Akaza who killed him, you would have collapsed against Rengoku as the demon ran

Rengoku would drop his sword and knees just to hold you

That's the only reason Akaza didn't die right then and there

Rengoku would try everything in his power to save you, pressing against the wound, telling you to control your breathing, everything

But nothing worked. You died in his arms and left him broken and angry

He held you close and tried to keep his composer since Tanjiro, Inosuke, and Zenitsu were around

But he couldn't. They all could see him shaking, and Zenitsu could hear his crys and the quiet words he's was whispering to you

As you died, he would whisper sweet nothingness into your ears to give you some peace

Once he felt you fully go limp, he'd break , he'd start crying heavily, holding onto you like his life depended on it

It broke him, and the other slayers around him, Rengoku couldn't go home that day, he wouldn't be able to take it....

Shinobu

For once, her calm and happy demeter broke

You could see the pissed look, but it was also mixed with sadness

She couldn't bare herself to look at you, but she also couldn't look away

She's stared at your body with so many different emotions

Her heart would break when she fully processed your death

That demon definitely didn't make it out, not for a long shot

That demon was killed particularly instantly

Once she saw its head turn to ash, she sat next to you

Holding your head in her lap, she'd gently brush your hair as tears fell from your eyes

Then she'd wonder, why do the people I love keep dying in my arms?

She'd try to keep her composer, and even try to tease Giyuu again, but she couldn't do either

[A/n:Sorry if this is bad, I'm bad with writing about the death if a loved one 😅. I hope you enjoyed]

#demon slayer shinobu #demon slayer mitsuri #demon slayer rengoku #demon slayer giyuu #demon slayer x male reader #demon slayer x gender neutral reader #demon slayer #kny x male reader #kny x gender neutral reader #kny x reader #kny shinobu #kny mitsuri #kny rengoku #kny giyuu

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dckweed · 10 months

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Can you write a fic about Hangman and his friend from childhood and when she found out she was pregenat, her (former) bf broke up with her? You can make it as angsty or fluffy as you want.

TIA

absolutely love this! i had a couple of ideas and i hope you love the one that i landed on for this prompt! again guys, feel free to send in more, i love new ideas! this is honestly alot longer than i anticipated it to be and im so so so sorry but i got so wrapped up in it for some reason but hi how are you? also, would we want a part two to this maybe? make Jake and Babygirl a series? idk man i could vibe with it. anyway, comment, reblog, send in asks <3

warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of abortion and guilt and shame.

disclaimer: I did not add in abortion to make a stance on pro choice, nor did i add it in to make a stand off to pro lifers. Please do not bring the matter of pro choice or pro life into my comments or you will be blocked from my blog. This is a topic that makes me incredibly angry as a woman, abortion may not be something thats for you or that you'll ever find yourself doing, but that doesn't mean that its not an option for other people. Not every person will make the same choices as you, can we please remember and respect that? Everyone has a different stance on this topic and that is okay, but theres no need to argue.

part two

'YOU'RE NOT ALONE, OKAY?' jake seresin.

When Jake had called you last week, he had heard it in your voice immediately, even though you tried so desperately to hide it. The sadness, the fear. Before you had even finished telling him how much you missed him, he had cut you off with a: "What's wrong, babygirl?" Babygirl. He had called you that from the day he'd met you, and it had annoyed you greatly at first but over time it came to be second nature to respond to it and you had stopped rolling your eyes after a year or so. You and Jake had been stuck together like peanut butter and jelly from your very first day together. You were 13 when you had first moved into his hometown, your family had bought the ranch right next to his and his mama had made her happy way over to come say hello, a grumpy and annoyed Jake in tow.

You often laughed at the memory, Jake had come off as he usually did, ego-fueled and jackassy, though you later learned that it was just a front to survive in his big family of all boys, where he just happened to be the youngest and treated like the baby. You had even called him a jackass on that day, and he quickly followed it up. "Babygirl, has anyone ever told you that you're a brat?" Even at 13 he had the playboy names that he'd learned from watching his older brothers. He was appalled that you swung your arm back and popped him one right on the cheek, leaving his eye black for the next two weeks. He was enamored by you immediately and from that moment on was by your side every waking moment of the day.

Relationships had come and gone for both of you, both of you having your hearts broken more than once and seeking the other out for comfort, there had been many a night spent on one of the others living room couch with fuzzy blankets and cake while one of you cried. You and Jake were so bonded that most of your partners took it threateningly, girls he liked enough to bring around his family (including you) took offensively to you almost immediately, and your boyfriends took his presence in your life personally, and this time? Well, this time was no exception.

"..you still there?" You sobbed out a terrible cry that had him sitting up straight on his couch. You felt terrible immediately and tried to reel it all back in, you were calling to congratulate him on the permanent placement after the uranium mission, all of which you had heard details about every single night. "Y/N, what happened?"

"Jake..he left me.." You cry, trying not to snot all over yourself as you looked down at your bathroom counter, panic flooding your tone. It had been two weeks since he'd been gone, and you had been fine because you knew you didn't need him, but you were scared now. Scared for your future, scared to tell Jake about the two positive lines on the two pregnancy tests sitting on your sink, because what if he left you too? "I dont even remember what it was over," Him, always him. "but it just hurts so fucking bad because it's like two fucking years of my life wasted on this goddamn asshole and he went and..just..left."

He had left. Had taken every single one of the things he had kept at your home, and had even gone as far as blocking your number, all because you said you had wanted to go take a trip to see your best friend Jake when he was finished with his detachment, even though you had just seen him two months before. He had called you a whore when you first told him you thought you were pregnant, it hadn't been more than two weeks since you'd last seen Jake and he was absolutely convinced that you two had fucked, even though he had been with you the whole time. You couldn't understand why every guy you dated thought that there was something between you and the man who had always been your best friend, or why his girlfriends treat you the way they did, but you tried not to dwell on it for too long.

"Y/N." Jake sighs, the sounds coming from your end of the phone absolutely tearing him apart. It always tore him apart, the way that you would fret and cry over these..these boys that hadn't ever treat you in the way that you needed to be treated, or let alone loved you in the way that Jake knew you needed to be loved, because he did love you in a way that you would probably never know. He had always been to afraid to tell you, too afraid of it making you uncomfortable enough that you would leave his life. Maybe not immediately, but over time, and that thought scared him even more than telling you how he truly felt because goddamn he couldn't and wouldn't ever imagine a life without his babygirl in it.

Two hours of crying on the phone, of convincing you to calm down and to take your damn vacation like you had planned, because you deserved it, and 14 hours later, Jake had you in his arms, held tightly to his always muscular chest as he basked in the feel of you, the scent of your hair and perfume. You looked a mess, you were a mess he knew, but he didn't care.

"I missed you so much.." You sniffle, pulling away from him. You wipe your eyes as you look up at him, his usual charming smile plastered across his stupidly handsome face, you couldn't help the smile that spread across yours at the sight.

"No tears, babygirl, no tears.." He says, bringing a thumb up to help you wipe your eyes. You lean into his touch, as if that was all the comfort you needed in the world and you watched the way his face softened, you loved that.

"Happy tears, i promise." You chuckle, leaning against him as he lead you to the baggage claim carousel for your flight. Your suitcases were easy to see, he'd seen them a million times before and didn't even need to double check to make sure he was right, he recognized the small stain on the bottom by the wheel that had been his doing. "You don't have to carry my bags Jake, you've already done enough by coming to get me."

"I always pick you up from the airport whenever you visit," He says, looking down at you as if what you said was absolutely insane. He grabbed the cases with ease and started wheeling them away, letting you carry your carry on bag. "Besides, if my mama ever found out i didn't carry a woman's bags for her, she'd drag me out of work by my ear and give me a talking to." He says only half jokingly. Mama Seresin had been a strict woman, but a loving one and had instilled all the southern gentlemen charms in all of her boys, quite proudly she liked to say.

"I know, and i feel like it's alot to ask, I dont mind carrying my own bags, Jake.." You say, following after him. You wore a baggy sweatshirt and some shorts, you knew it was hot in the San Diego area but you weren't wanting to risk Jake asking if you'd gained weight if your normal clothes looked different, you weren't ready to tell him yet.

"And i feel like it's the least i could do, you literally sat on an airplane for four hours just to come see me, you dont need to carry your bags to the truck too.." He says in a way that told you not to argue about it any farther, so you don't.

The trip to his truck isn't too long, he managed to find decent parking not far from the arrivals gates and you had planned your flight for a time when you knew it wouldn't be massively busy, but the drive to his off base apartment felt like it took hours. Jake talked most of the time, making sure the A/C was blowing on you at full blast because you looked sweaty, telling you about his friends and how they couldn't wait to meet the girl he was always talking about, about how he was looking forward to having a permanent position at the TOP GUN academy, even though it meant he couldn't be close to you at home anymore.

You listened the whole way, but your mind was on the little thing in your womb now, growing by the moment. Your mind was on the man who had up and left you as soon as you said it might have been a possibility because he swore you were a whore. Your mind was on your own Mama, who had passed away many years ago, you wished she was here to tell you what to do. You knew you could go to Jake's mama, she had always been like your own in some ways but you also knew that she couldn't keep a secret to herself, Jake would be the first phone call as soon as you were out of earshot and you didn't want him to find out in that way. You didn't want him to find out at all, afraid of what he would say, of disappointing him, you hated that thought more than you hated the thought of your Daddy being disappointed at you.

You had contemplated making an appointment at planned Parenthood, you knew you weren't too far along, it was still a possibility for you, but you couldn't bare the thought of it, as upset as you were. The universe had given you this curveball for a reason, you had to believe that, even if you didn't agree with it. You had to believe that this accident had a purpose.

You hadn't noticed that Jake had pulled into a small parking lot, or that he had even parked the car at all until his hand waved in front of your face, snapping you out of your reverie. "...Earth to Y/N..." You blinked rapidly a few times, taking in a deep breath as you turned to look at him. "You good?"

You smile forcefully, and his eyebrows furrow. "Sorry, i spaced for a minute. It's been a long couple of weeks, my brain wasn't all the way with it.." You say, looking outside the windshield. "Why are we at the beach?" You ask, your eyebrows furrowing now. A sandy strip of beach was in front of the truck, you could see the waves crashing against it and you could make out some people milling about, birds flying over head. If you squinted, you could make out a couple of surfers on the water, waiting for a decent swell to ride in.

"Because i live in the building right over there." Jake says softly, getting the feeling that something other than the breakup was bothering you. You were usually full of chatter, typically, jake couldn't get a word in edgewise when you were around, and he loved that about you, but today? Today it was all him and that worried him.

You glance towards the building to your right, confused. "Oh.." You shake your head and unbuckle your seatbelt, opening the door to his truck to get out when his large hand on your elbow stops you, his fingers wrapping around it and pulling you back towards him. "...Jake?"

He sighs, looking at you with that stern, but probing glance, as if he were looking into your soul. "..Are you sure you're okay?" He asks after a moment of hesitation, he wanted to know what was going on but he didn't want to push it too hard.

You could have cried right then and there, and you almost did as you could feel the tears welling in your eyes, your chin quivering as you tried desperately not to let them fall. You could only hope that he didn't notice. "Yeah," You nod, giving him the best smile that you possibly could, putting your other hand on top of his and giving it a squeeze. "I'm okay Jake, i promise.."

Jake doesn't believe you, not one bit but he knows that he'll figure out whats going on eventually, or you'll break down and tell him. You always did. He nods once, letting go of your arm before taking the keys out of the ignition and hopping out. You follow suit, having to jump down before joining him at the bed of the truck, where he lifts your bags out and sets them down.

The rest of the day goes smoothly, you settle into the guest room that he had made up for you, and you catch up with him on what he hadn't filled you in on over the phone. He made you lunch, and took you for a walk on the beach, letting you lean against him as you enjoyed the smell of the ocean.

Jake couldn't help but wish that he was able to do that with you all the time, hold you while you guys walked on the beach, or make lunch and eat it with you. He loved being with you all the time, and he always had, he just had never realized until it was much too late that it was because he loved you. He didn't like to dwell on it too much though, he didn't like the yearning and the sadness and anger it brought him. There was no need for it when you were with him now, even if only for a little while.

By the time sunset comes around you're starting to turn into the you that he's used to, the happy, goofy babygirl he had always known, and he can't help but think it's because you're happier here with him than you were with your ex, wishful thinking, he knew. But alas, a man could dream, couldn't he?

You were sat on the couch in Jake's living room, watching a game show like you used to when you were kids when you heard his phone ping with a text message. You chuckle as he groans grumpily, half asleep with your legs in his lap, and shifts to reach for his phone on the small table next to the couch.

You watch him roll his eyes and poke his tongue out as he types out a reply to whomever it was, you grin before poking him in the chest with your foot. "What was that eyeroll for?" You ask, half amused and half curious. You always were the nosey type. "Was it Rooster?" He had told you about how rocky their friendship was, but that it was getting better, you knew that Rooster could annoy the hell out of Jake without even trying and you thought it was absolutely hilarious because you knew that you used to do the same thing.

Jake sighs, looking at you with that million dollar smile of his. "If you must know, Babygirl," He starts and you cant help but giggle a little. "It was Phoenix, the squad are all heading to the Hard Deck and they wanted to know if I was coming." He says and you hum at him in response. "I'm telling them no, I'm sure you don't want to go and i don't want to leave you alone."

You think on it for a moment, staring at him before making your mind up. "Lets go." You say, sitting up and swinging your legs off of his lap. You miss the pout that he makes, his eyebrows furrowing at the loss of your touch. "I want to meet your other friends, i bet they could tell me some stories." You say with a giggle, going towards the guest room to change into better clothes.

Jake watches after you and stands with an exaggerated sigh after a moment. "Fine, but I'm only going so they tell you the good stories!" He says and you cackle knowing damn well that they would probably spin you some tales about the man you've known for a good portion of your life, you didn't mind because you could tell them some things that would make them piss themselves in return.

It wasn't long before the two of you are out the door, Jake locking it after you before walking with you to his truck. You were honestly feeling alot better about things with your ex after only being with him for a few hours, Jake always had that affect on you to make things feel better when it felt like the world was tumbling down around you.

You sing along to the country station as Jake drives, the windows down in his truck letting the ocean breeze flow through the cab as you guys go along the coast, and within a few moments you see the lights of the Hard Deck through the windshield and take note of the full parking lot.

"Damn Jake, is it always this busy?" You ask, slightly on edge by the amount of people that were probably in the bar, you put your hand on your tummy subconsciously, which Jake caught out of the corner of his eye as he found a parking space. That struck him as odd, you had never been the socially nervous person before.

That was Jake's first clue. You declining a chilled tequila in favor of water was his second, and honestly it was the only one that he needed to make the assumption. You never turned down tequila, especially after a breakup like this. Eyebrows furrowed in thought as he introduces you to his friends, Jake watches you throughout the night, merely sipping on his beer as he did, keeping an eye on you as moved throughout the bar.

Phoenix and Rooster absolutely loved you, they couldn't believe that you and Jake had been friends for as long as you had, or that you could stand to be around him and his ego. Bob had thought you were his long distance girlfriend from the way that he always talked about you, and the fact that he rarely every called you anything besides Babygirl. You chuckled at the trio, about to tell them that he had never once in your entire friendship called anything other than Babygirl if it wasn't absolutely necessary, when you felt your stomach lurch as Penny brought a plate of seafood around your area of the bar. Quickly, you excuse yourself, just barely making it to the bathroom before the vomit spews out of you.

Jake was hot on your tail, had even followed you into the bathroom to dutifully hold your hair for you, his large hand rubbing your back as you heaved the contents of your stomach into the toilet. "Jesus Y/N.." He says, a serious edge to his voice. He wasn't sure what he was upset about, the fact that you hadn't told him immediately, or that your boyfriend had left you. "How long?" He asks when you stand up, wiping your face with a paper towel he had handed you.

You let out a soft sigh, making your way to the sink where you splash your face with water, hoping that if you delayed the answer he would go away. He catches your eye through the mirror, arms crossed over his chest as he gives you that look of pure concern.

"..Two months, i think.." You finally say and Jake's jaw clenches. Your lip quivers, terrified that he's angry with you as scared tears well up in your eyes. "He..he called me a whore..he thought i slept with you and he called me a whore and he left and he took all of his things and he blocked my number and jake i dont know what to fucking do because this wasn't part of my plan!" You wail in one breath, completely breaking down in the bathroom of the bar.

Jake is almost startled by your outburst, but it quickly turns to anger at the words that left your mouth, at the accusation that your ex had made towards you. Jake knew you were a fiercely loyal person, you wouldn't have ever cheated on him, but he was more than certain that he would have cheated on you, how else could he have called you that so easily?

Jake swallows his anger, noticig your tears coming harder and faster down your face and crosses the small bathroom to pull you into his arms, letting you rest your face on his chest as he holds you, letting you sob all over his shirt. "It's okay, Babygirl.." He says, looking at the sight in the mirror. If there was one thing Jake Seresin knew for certain, it was that he was going to make sure you were cared for, it may not have been his baby but you absolutely weren't on your own in this, he wouldn't let you be. "You're not alone..i promise you.."

#top gun #top gun hangman #top gun fanfic #top gun requests #hangman #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin angst #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin request #jake hangman seresin

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