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#i know i am going to rage so hard when i go into my career

cubffections · 7 days

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𑁥౿ 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑒 — sunday.

۫ ּ 𓂅⋆ cw. nsfw, 18+ ! fem, sub! reader. office sex. use of nicknames ( he also calls u pup once :p ). possibly ooc ? :o js jealous mista sunday at the gala <3 ( 2.2 is finalli out ! had to drop hehe ! )

sunday, despite maintaining his nearly perfect persona, was a jealous man. it’s a flaw of his that he must clean up— he knows. trust me, he’s trying . .

“hello there, my pretty girl.”

he whispered in your ear, hoping his tone of voice was calmer than the raging thoughts racing inside his mind, because you see, this is him trying. if he had his way he would've swiftly tugged you away from the random attempting to make conversation with you. he truly does not know how much more he can take watching you chat and dance with so many disgusting men all in one night. though his rational side promptly reminds him it’s only natural you do so as his partner and co-host of this event.

“dearest !” you cheered, doing a quick nod to dismiss the man in front of you before turning to your beloved. “i was just wondering where you disappeared too, how could you leave me out here all alone ?” you pouted, cheeks puffed out as you glared at him. god, you just don't know how adorable you are, do you? even when you're berating him your eyes shone with love for him, and that alone was making this hard-on of his even more unbearable.

“my apologies darling, i’m afraid the crowd pulled us away from each other.” sunday mused, pulling you in close, strategically hiding the boner in his slacks from the view of others. he brushes off a stray hair strand off of your shoulder, the thought of it belonging to another man making his brows furrow. “i’m happy to have found you..”

“gosh, so am i ! all this socializing is sooo draining, y’know?” you spoke exasperated, soon going on about the fellow members of the family’s questioning on your career and the direction of you and sunday’s relationship. though to be honest, the winged man was too preoccupied by your lips to catch everything.

fuck, what flavor lip gloss did you have on today? strawberry? mint? peach, maybe? he couldn't help licking his lips in temptation, with half the mind to steal a hungry kiss. however he couldn't, not here where all eyes laid on you both.

after making up his mind, he was tuning back into your annoyed rant, nodding in agreement to whatever you last said. his fingers trailed down from your shoulders to caress the curves of your waist as he lowered his lips to your ear.

“well doll, how about we take a break away from all those problems . . how does that sound?”

the authoritative gaze of his amber eyes smiling down at you as he finally pressed you against the ache that's been begging to be made known the entire time. a look of realization flashes across your features before flushing into something more sensual and needy. finally, you're on the same page as him.

“don't make such a fuss sweetheart, you act like you haven't rode me before.” sunday commented. his honey eyes watched you struggle to sit on his cock, observing every squirm and weak complaints falling from your lips.

your cunt was stretched and soaked, taking him like you were made for this, so he couldn't comprehend why his angel was too afraid to bottom out completely.

“s-so b..big ! ‘s too much !” you squeaked, your eyes foggy and obviously cockdrunk. sunday couldn't help but click his tongue in disapproval since this was your punishment after all. your angelic presence drove him crazy all night but you couldn't do the simple task of sitting on his dick? unbelievable. perhaps he did spoil his angel a little too much.

a smirk plays on his lips as his fingers grips into your ass firmly, slamming you down immediately. he groaned out as you let out a high pitched squeal, his cock thrusting up into your maddening warmth at a quick pace. your breathy moans were soon becoming more choked and whiny as mindless babbles fell from your sweet lips.

“so— fuck,, 'so big' was it? but here you are, humping my cock like a needy pup.”

he grunted as the sound of his hips slapping into yours echoed through his office, catching your lips into a sloppy kiss. your mouths pressing into each other with a strong fervor for each other’s touch. his hands traveling around your bare skin to pull your perky nipples and massage on your clit as he pounded himself deeper into your pussy.

“pleasepleasepleas . . “ you wailed out, voice cracking as you felt yourself being engulfed even further by his cock. he was acting like such a bully the way he fucked into you, so fast and deep but would slow down everytime you neared the edge. soon your pretty eyes was staring down at him with tears threatening to fall. “sunday make me cum, d-don't be mean . .! m’ need it soo bad!” you sobbed, desperate for even a slight release, causing an amused huff from the perpetrator.

“oh dear, you really don't have a clue?” he grunted, faux sympathy laced in his words as he started his quick pace once more, rendering your ability to answer his question. your heated breaths were mixing and his cock filling you to the point where hearts were twinkling in each of your gazes as you made eye contact.

“your beloved is a jealous, jealous man.”

#𑄼ల۫ ﹒𝓈𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝓈 . .#still shocked m wrote tis . .#sunday smut #sunday x reader #sunday hsr #sunday honkai star rail #sunday x you #hsr smut #hsr x reader #hsr sunday

927 notes · View notes

violentdelightsandviolentends · 7 months

Text

I Know Places.

Synopsis - Jake always joked that he'd kill for you. One fateful day, he does just that.

Pairing - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Female Reader (Callsign - Ivy) - Bonnie&Clyde inspired au

Warnings - cursing. very near SA. mentions of abuse/assault. mentions of blood, gunshots and violence. mentions of suicide. please, do not read if any of these warnings will affect you.

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 3.1k

Author's Note - i'm not sure what happened, because this was really fluffy in my head. it ended up kind of dark, but i'm rolling with it. i like writing a different side of jake. just in time for halloween too. this was written for @laracrofted 1989TGM celebration!! <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

You stand with your hand on my waistline

It's a scene, and we're out here in plain sight

I can hear them whisper as we pass by

It's a bad sign, bad sign

Jake's always had impeccable timing.

He'd tell you, later, that he sensed it. Just knew. Felt it in his gut, some sort of warning from the universe. He had to get to you.

The Admiral has you half bent over the desk in his office, fingers twisted into your underwear. He's trying to pull them down your legs when the door swings open.

You're paralysed, frozen with fear. The look on your face must tell Jake enough. He gets the message, understands your silent communication.

The Admiral stops. Backs away. As if putting distance between you will erase what he's been caught doing. Trying to do.

You expect Jake to yell, fight, throw The Admiral across the room by his collar. You expect blood, bruises, broken skin and bared teeth.

All you're met with is silence.

Jake strides across the room towards you. Fixes your clothes, smooths down your hair. Wipes the tears from your cheeks. He snakes a hand around your waist and guides you out of the door. Not a word said.

Something happens when everybody finds out

See the vultures circling, dark clouds

Love's a fragile little flame, it could burn out

It could burn out

"He'll ruin my career."

You're tucked into Jake's lap, legs slung over his hips as he holds you close. His rough fingertips run themselves up and down your spine, comforting and gentle. You inhale his musk, letting the familiarity fill your lungs.

"You didn't do anything wrong, baby."

"That won't matter."

The two of you are whispering, hushed voices bouncing off the furniture. You're alone together in Jake's living room. There's no one else around. You think he's scared he'll spook you. You're right.

"I worked so hard for this, Jake. I sacrificed everything to get into Top Gun."

"I know, baby."

"I can't lose it all."

He presses a tender kiss to your forehead, brushing your hair back from your eyes.

"What do you want to do? Report him?"

"Jake, you're not listening to me. He'll ruin my career."

"But he's the guilty one. Not you."

"Yeah, well. This is the way it works. Men can assault you and still play the victim."

You're frustrated, now. There's something bubbling, running through your veins. You can't put your finger on it. It feels like more than rage. Whatever it is, it's lethal.

You climb off Jake's lap and stand, pacing across the carpet.

"What am I supposed to do?" you murmur, tears threatening to spill.

Jake can't stand the wobble in your voice. It tightens something in his chest, pulls at his heartstrings. He was furious, before. He's just sad now.

"I'll do anything you ask," he tells you, standing up to cradle your face in his hands. "Anything in the world."

"I know."

And you do. That's what it's like, being with Jake. He loves so entirely, with his whole being. Every fibre of his heart belongs to you. It beats to the rhythm of your name.

"Just tell me what you wanna do, baby. I'm on your side. No matter what."

You lean up to kiss him, his lips soft and careful against yours.

"I'm not sure, yet. When I know, you'll know."

Jake sits back down on the couch, pulling you with him. You tuck yourself into his side, fitting there perfectly. He slings an arm around your waist and keeps you close, holding you a little tighter than usual.

Cause they got the cages, they got the boxes

And guns

They are the hunters, we are the foxes

And we run

"We should kill him."

You're strewn across Jake's chest, tangled in the sheets. Your limbs and hearts are intertwined, bodies drenched in sweat and lungs heaving.

"What?"

You sit up, pulling the comforter up and over your body slightly to combat the chill of the ocean breeze that's filtering through the open window.

"Let's kill him."

You look over to your boyfriend, waiting for the punchline. It never comes.

"Jake."

He turns to you, the most serious you've ever seen him. There's a look in his eye you've never seen before. It's dark. You're vaguely aware you should probably feel fear - but all you feel is anticipation.

"How many girls do you think he's done this to before you? How many will come after?"

You swallow, biting at your lips.

"He needs to be stopped, baby. You and I both know they won't fire him. He needs to be taken out of the equation altogether."

You realise, suddenly, that the thing you're worried about isn't the morality of the situation. It's the logistics. You don't want to get caught.

"Do you think we're smart enough to get away with murder?"

"Baby," he drawls, brushing his knuckles over your cheekbone. "We're a hell of a lot smarter than people give us credit for."

You know he's right. People underestimate both you and Jake. Everyone assumes he's nothing but a pretty face and toned muscles. That you're just his pilot girlfriend, seduced by his Southern charm and the fact that he's good in bed.

It seems like a challenge, now. You want to do this. You want to see if you can get away with it. You're already on the precipice of losing everything - why not go out with a bang?

"How would we do it?" you ask, leaning in closer to the blonde man next to you.

He thinks for a moment, running his fingers up and down your bare thighs.

"I say we make it look like a suicide. Shoot him in the head and frame it so it looks self inflicted."

You nod, processing.

"I think we should hold him at gunpoint first. Get him to write a confession, some sort of letter. That way, there's no confusion as to what happened."

"You're a genius," Jake grins, dipping down to kiss you.

He slips his tongue into your mouth effortlessly, sighing when he tastes himself from earlier. You straddle his waist and tangle your fingers into his hair, desperate to be close to him.

Both of you are high on adrenaline, buzzed on the anticipation of what's to come.

Baby, I know places we won't be found and

They'll be chasing their tails trying to track us down

'Cause I, I know places we can hide

I know places

Murder isn't as hard as you thought it'd be.

Careful planning. Airtight alibis. Reassurance and recon.

You and Jake have created the perfect crime.

The two of you show up to The Admiral's office on an evening you know he'll be working late. He's doing paperwork when you arrive.

You walk in first. Jake follows, and locks the door behind him.

The Admiral goes to speak, but you silence him with a handgun pointed at his chest.

"Speak, and you die."

He doesn't say another word.

Jake takes the gun from your hand and walks around the desk, pressing it into his superiors temple.

"We need a couple of things from you," he begins. "Just a favour or two."

The Admiral is sweating, pale and rigid. He looks scared. It sends a rush of adrenaline through you. You're enjoying this. Jake is too, judging by the beaming grin on his face.

"Grab a pen, and some paper. We're about to do some creative writing."

Jake orchestrates the letter. Gets him to write exactly what you need. Notes down the brutality, the arrogance, the abuse of power. He makes him recount every incident, not just yours. You're there for what feels like hours, as his shaky hands move the pen across the paper.

Finally, he finishes. Dots the I's and crosses the T's. Jake chuckles.

"Wonderful. And for the last part of this joyous evening were having together, my girlfriend is gonna shoot you."

The Admiral chokes on his breath. Looks to you with fear in his eyes. Finally, you think. He understands how it felt.

He goes to open his mouth, but you stop him.

"Don't beg. Don't plead. It's pathetic."

"We made up our mind weeks ago," Jake adds. "You're not going to deter us now."

You smile at your boyfriend, giddy over the way he's protecting you, saving you, loving you.

"I'm going to enjoy this," you whisper.

You take the gun from Jake and press it to The Admiral's temple. You know the silencer will muffle the noise - you really have thought of everything.

You click off the safety, and lean down so your mouth is next to his ear.

"This is for all of the women you hurt."

You pull the trigger.

He dies instantly.

Lights flash and we'll run for the fences

Let them say what they want, we won't hear it

Loose lips sink ships all the damn time

Not this time

In another life, you and Jake could have been actors.

You're all called into the briefing room the next day, gathered together in confusion.

Admiral Simpson stands in front of your class - pale as a sheet, dark circles bruised under his eyes.

"There's been a situation, and we want you to hear it from us," he begins. "I ask that you all keep this to yourselves, where possible. Don't talk to any media, don't gossip, don't spread rumours. Understood?"

When you all nod, he continues.

"The Admiral is dead."

The room goes silent. Jake's hand finds yours under the table. To anyone on the outside, it looks like a boyfriend supporting his girlfriend. To you, it's something different.

It feels like time stands still. The world stops turning, suspending you in the present moment. Eventually, Rooster speaks.

"What happened?"

Beau clears his throat, swiping his hand over his face.

"He took his own life."

There are whispers now, hushed and clipped. Everyone is in a state of shock and confusion. Everyone, except for you and the blonde man next to you. He squeezes your hand tightly, refusing to let go.

"Of course, there will be an investigation. But, it seems pretty obvious to us what happened. If anyone in this room has been effected by the actions of The Admiral that have come to light... please, speak to me, or any other of your superiors. Thank you. "

He exits the room, leaving all of you in palpable silence.

"What the fuck?" Payback mutters. "What did he mean, 'actions that have come to light?'"

"There's rumours," Phoenix begins. "He had a... soft spot, for young female pilots. People have been whispering about it for months."

Suddenly, all eyes are on you. You're the only other woman in the room besides Natasha, and she clearly wasn't involved.

"Did he ever... try anything with you, Ivy?"

"No," you're quick to answer. "No. Thank God."

The room breathes a collective sigh of relief.

If only they knew.

they take their shots, but we're bulletproof I know places

and you know for me, it's always you I know places

in the dead of night, your eyes so green I know places

and I know for you, it's always me I know places

A month later, you snap.

Jake comes home to find you frantically shoving clothes into a duffel bag, sweat dripping down your back.

"Baby," he tries, cautious, like he's approaching a spooked animal. "Baby."

You turn to face him with wild eyes, fear radiating off you.

"What's wrong, angel?"

You look at him incredulously.

"What's wrong? What's fucking wrong? We killed someone, Jake! That's what's wrong!"

"He wasn't a good guy."

"That doesn't matter. That doesn't make it right."

He cradles your face in his hands, eyes never leaving yours.

"Talk to me. What's going on? You've been okay. We've been okay. I thought we were processing, moving forward."

"I was. And then today, I just... can't. It was murder, Jake. Premeditated murder."

"Listen to me," he demands, tilting your chin up so your eyes are level. "He was an awful, awful man. The world is a better place without him. We saved so many women from a horrible fate, baby. We did a good thing."

You inhale carefully, and exhale a shaky breath, leaning up to press a kiss to his bitten lips.

"Yeah?" you ask, unsure. "We did save people, didn't we?"

"We wouldn't have done it without just reason, baby. We're good people, you and I. We both know we are."

You nod, looking for any signs of insecurity in his eyes. You don't find a single speck.

"You're right. Fuck, you're right. Sorry if I scared you, Jake."

"You scared me because I thought you were leaving me," he chuckles. "Wondered what I did wrong."

"Nothing," you're quick to reassure, tangling tracing your fingertips over the features of his face in a featherlight touch. "My God, Jake. I've never loved anyone as much as I love you. You're it for me. You're my forever."

Jake leans down, pressing his lips to yours firmly and surely. It's as if he's telling you everything he feels without using any words. He pulls you into him, winding his arms around your back and tugging you closer.

"I've got you, baby. No matter what happens. It's me and you, always. I love you."

"I love you too, Seresin. Always."

They are the hunters, we are the foxes

And we run

Just grab my hand and don't ever drop it

My love

"Let's run away."

You're taking off your shoes by the door when Jake comes bounding down the stairs, buzzing with energy.

"Hmm?"

"Let's run away, baby. You and me. The open road. We can go anywhere we want."

"Jake," you laugh. "Are you drunk? What's happening?"

"Not drunk. My head's clearer than it has ever been. I've been thinking, while you were gone."

"Thinking about...?" you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning up to kiss his rosy lips.

"Getting out of here. This place is full of bad memories and old ghosts. We can start afresh somewhere new."

"Like where?"

"Anywhere. Literally anywhere. We don't even have to stay in America. We could go to Europe, Australia, Canada? The possibilities are actually endless."

"What's triggered this?" you murmur. "You okay?"

"I'm always okay when I'm with you," he smiles. "But.... I can just feel it, you know? I can feel everything piling up. There's a weight on my shoulders, and on yours too. We can let that go. I know we can."

"You're right, about the weight. I haven't relaxed in months."

Jake slides his hands under your shirt, tracing his fingers up and down the bare skin of your back.

"I know," he murmurs against your lips. "I think there's something better out there for us."

"Where would we go? Like, serious talk, what are our options?"

"I know places," he winks.

"What places, Jake?" you try to chide, but you're smiling.

"We can go to my mom's, first, in Texas. Just to touch base. From there, I mean it when I say literally anywhere, baby. Wherever you wanna go, we can go. You've always wanted to go to Italy, right? We could go there. Or I have a high school friend in Perth - we could go there."

"I wanna go somewhere with good food. Kind people. Beautiful views. A little sunshine wouldn't hurt either."

He's grinning at you, white and blinding. His excitement is contagious, settling into your bones.

"Imagine it, baby. Me and you, on the beach all day. We could surf, swim, go grab some lunch, then surf and swim some more. Go home, make dinner, sit out in the yard and listen to the ocean waves. Do it all again the next day."

You can't wipe the smile off your face, practically bouncing on the soles of your feet.

"Okay."

Jake stops in his tracks, still and rigid.

"Really?"

"Really. We can go right now, Jake. I don't wanna be here any longer."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Fuck, I love you. Let's pack our shit and go, baby."

Jake kisses you with fervour, dipping you backwards like you're in a movie. You squeal, gripping the nape of his neck for balance. He picks you up and spins you around, twirling you like a fairytale.

"What about everyone here?" you ask, forehead pressed to Jake's.

"We'll miss them, and they'll miss us, but we'll all be okay."

He's right. These people are your family, but they'll understand. You have to do what's best for you.

"Do you really wanna go as soon as we can?"

"Yeah, Jake. I meant it. We can start packing right now."

He wraps his arms around your middle and carries you upstairs, throwing the closet doors open while you grab your suitcase.

Baby, I know places we won't be found and

They'll be chasing their tails trying to track us down

'Cause I, I know places we can hide

I know places

The sun beats down on your skin, warming you up from the outside in. There's a breeze whipping through your hair, carrying salt from the ocean into the car. The sunroof is down, allowing you to breathe in the fresh air.

Jake's hand slides across the centre console and onto your thigh, thumb rubbing circles into your bare skin.

"You okay?"

He's looking over at you, taking his eyes off the road for a split second.

"I'm good, baby."

He smiles, the grin reaching every feature of his face, lighting him up.

You've been on the road for months, stopping and starting however and whenever you please. A motel here, a beach apartment there. You've lost count of how many states you've travelled through, collecting postcards in each one.

You'll settle down, eventually. You've been making a list of your favourite places you've visited, ranking them as you go. You'll most likely buy a place in your top choice. But not yet.

For now, you're content with the open road. The convertible car, all your belongings in a suitcase in the trunk, roof down at every opportunity. You like not staying in one place for too long. It weirdly suits you.

Jake's never looked happier. He glows, smile lines creasing the corner of his eyes. He laughs so often, and you never get tired of the sound.

You glance down to the golden band on your left hand, smiling softly.

"What are you thinking about?" your husband asks, squeezing your thigh.

"Vegas," you beam. "Never did I think I'd be married by an Elvis impersonator in a bright blue chapel."

"I'm the epitome of class, baby. You know this."

Both of you are grinning, chuckling gently.

"We did the right thing. Leaving."

"Yeah, we did. I'm glad I believed what you said."

"What did I say?"

"That you knew places."

He traces a love heart on your skin with his thumb, over and over again.

"Told you, baby. I know places."

525 notes · View notes

roturo · 1 year

Note

hellooo can u do actor!chishiya x actress!reader where it's their first time acting w eo in a movie and they already have an nsfw scene or sumn and fans just went crazy bcs its rumored they kinda hate each other 😳 (they actually don't tho they just have this RAGING SEXUAL TENSION)

CINEMA

“I bring the pop to the cinema.

You pop when we get intimate”

CHISHIYA X FEM!READER

WARNINGS: NSFW. (NO SMUT)

PT2

(I’m thinking of doing a part 2 thats like when the movie comes out and they have an interview and they just ykyk, but idk, maybe if this gets support, I really like this idea 😭, Hope you like it! 💘)

(Y/N) (L/N) does not fuck around with co-stars. Ever since you started acting at the young age of eight, you were always told by your mom, manager, and others in the industry to avoid casual, co-star related hook ups. Yeah, you had some crushes here and there when you were a teenager, but you stayed loyal to your vow. They remain as good friends, nothing more.

You were amazing, you had a glorious career. Not getting into any scandal, problems, etc. You decided to take the easy route and avoid getting in to a relationship.

Now, It was the first day of shooting from the new movie you’re staring. You were really relaxed actually. Most of the times you don’t know with who you’re acting with since you met them the same first day of shooting.

They just had finished doing your hair and makeup when the movie director comes in.

“Miss y/n, my dear y/n! Good morning everybody!” He said to everybody in the room. “I have some great news for you!” Am I getting another role for your next movie? omgomg

“It’s time for you to meet your romantic interest in this movie” Oh. That…

He gave you playful smile like if it’s like he’s playing something, then he clapped his hands creating some tension. “Everyone, meet Mr.Shuntaro!”

No way.

Chishiya Shuntaro?!?!?!

You didn’t even realized you said that aloud until you saw a very schoked Chishiya too.

Shit.

I mean, like there’s nothing wrong working with The Chishiya Shuntaro y’know?… only that there’s a lot of “beef” between the both of you. Or that’s what fans like to call it. And don’t get me wrong! There’s nothing going on with both of you….

Well… maybe fans believed both of you hate eachother since in an awards event, the two of you were sat together and you couldn’t stop looking at him. It got you so nervous being next to another co-star and having some dating rumors with them. So most of the time you gave him that ‘ew’ look. But in your defense, it’s better having beef with some co-star rather than a dating rumor!

But let’s be real… you were just masking your eyes full of lust for him just to prevent any scandal.

And now?! Having him in this movie that’s not really family friendly has you questioning your decisions.

Should you cancel this? Tell them to find another actress? Your manager told you to be the most far away from him. Did he agree to this?!!! Oh this mother-

“Ms. Y/N, it’s time to start recording.”

“Oh yeah.. thank you.”

And it even seems funny to him too! “We need to break the ice between the both of you! What about we start with the spicy scenes?” He said.

‘Wi niid ti briek thi ice bitien thi ti if you’ kill yourself.

It was CLEAR, you didn’t wanted to do this first, and mostly because it’s your first time acting together but not your first time being together at the same place. And that one time clearly didn’t go well.

So…

Why the hell is my manager okay with this?!

You weren’t nervous because you clearly had a crush on him, oh nonono, you couldn’t let yourself to that risk, but it was because….

because…?

Doesn’t matters. You have to do this. It’s your job y/n, take a big breath and….

Oh shit, he doesn’t has a shirt on?!

You couldn’t believe this is really happening.

This scene consists of both of you making out. This isn’t too hard right? It’s not the first time I do it. It’s okay, relax.

You placed your legs on each side of him, you had to straddle him.. ride him. shut the fuck up. Nothing wrong with it.

This part of the movie both of you were in the same bedroom. “Alone” Yeah… bullshit. There’s like 4 camaras around us.

“And… ACTION!” Fuck. The director exclaimed. Now all eyes were on both of you. You were tense. You slowly cupped his cheek with your hand and started kissing him, he followed your way. You’re doing good right? Yes! Maybe we could just finish it in one take and-

Shit.

“CUT! This looks like some elementary kids kissing for the first time, put some passion! more sexiness y’know, let it go” Yeah, yeah he’s right! It’s not like you’re on top of him IN UNDERWEAR, and he’s almost naked with just some briefs that are barely hanging on his waist! Let’s put some passion in it!

“Okay… SCENE 13, TAKE TWO, ACTION!” You were about to cup his cheek again when he suddenly grabbed you by the waist and started kissing you. You let him take control and play with your lips all like he wanted, you couldn’t move yourself, you were FREEZED. He slightly started moving you with his hands for you to straddle him, he left a small groan, hopefully it’s part of his act, and you couldn’t stop yourself from leaving a small moan that sounded more like a sigh. Shit. This is not part of the act.

“CUT!” WHAT?! WHATS WRONG NOW?!

“Y/N, please relax a little, he looked like he’s making out with a mannequin. C’mon, let’s do it again. SCENE 13, TAKE THREE, AND ACTION!”

Okay… Relax.

This time, you were the one who started kissing Chishiya roughly, he left a small whimper at that sudden action, but continued with it. Both of you were kissing eachother like beasts. You couldn’t stop yourself from moving up and down in top of him. This feels so good. You left a moan that was quickly shut down by his kisses.

“AND…. CUT! That was amazing see! I knew both of you would be perfect for this role, it’s like you guys were made for it! I’m really hop-“

You stopped listening to the director, when you locked eyes with Chishiya. They were so beautiful. He’s really beautiful.

He breaks the eye contact when he looks down at both of you, he suddenly chuckled and that made you look.

Oh shit. You were so fucked.

He was hard and his briefs now had a dark stain of your juices, this is so embarrassing! You looked at him with red ears and pink cheeks mumbling a sorry..

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I mean, that stain it’s not only yours y’know?” He said getting your chin up with one of his hands while the other covers you up with the blanket from the bed.

Okay, that made you laugh and relax a little..

Both of you locked eyes again.

It feels so right to me.

“If you’re getting yourself wet for me… I guess you’re all mine now.”

Oh you were so fucked.

And i’m so sorry if this is short her than the others 😭, rn there’s a lot going on and my schedule is really messy rn. I was literally writing this at the hospital and later at the gym LMFAOSOSO

#chishiya smut #chishiya x reader #aib chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya angst #alice in boderland x reader #aib season 2 #alice in borderland #aib #kuina alice in borderland #chishiya alice in borderland #alice in borderland x reader #aib arisu #arisu smut #requests open #request

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mochalate · 5 days

Text

[3] new notification!

msby!atsumuxreader || w/c: 1.1k + 1 min of video (yes, video.) chocolate chip cookies are the way to a guy's heart. (everyone knows that!) a/n: wow I thought I wouldn't post anything this week, but one really good chocolate cake later, I felt alive. Perhaps Atsumu and I are more similar than I thought. 🔔Please use full screen for the video!

[<-chapter 2][chapter 4->] ||[start from intro][masterlist]

Back when you were still at university, you had a part time job at the campus gym. Legally, you weren’t allowed to call yourself a nutritionist at that point, but that’s what you did. It was never anything complicated— the hardest thing had been managing expectations.

No, you won’t have noticeable muscle definition in a month.

Yes, you’ll need quite a bit longer than a week to lose ten kilos.

That will give you results, but perhaps a more sustainable plan?

So yes, expectations. You’re in a career chock-full of them. You’re good at managing them. Even when it’s hard.

Or so you’d thought.

Can I keep starin’?

(Could it really be that easy?)

With four words, Atsumu Miya had ripped open the top of that flimsy cardboard box you’d oh-so-carefully stuffed your expectations in, and now you were struggling to (convince yourself to) put them back in. For the last few hours, you’ve been fiddling with that metaphorical scotch-tape, not quite daring to believe he could be interested in you— and yet unable to let go of that fantasy.

Was it a fantasy?

You can still picture his flushed-red face, the anticipation and anxiety in his eyes. It wasn’t the kind of look you expected from a flirty joke.

Or…

It's when Osamu has to stop you from trying to grab the piping hot handle of a cast iron pan for the second time that you realise you need to come back to your senses.

“Osamu,” you ask, timidly. “Can I ask you something? It’s about Atsumu.”

Osamu turns down the flame on the burner, and looks at you. His face is neutral— some people went as far as calling those droopy grey eyes of his ‘expressionless’, but you preferred to think of them as steady. Osamu always said it like it was.

He’s going to give you the reality check you so obviously need.

“How stupid am I for thinking I have a chance with Atsumu?”

You brace yourself for a scathing reply. Perhaps, ‘Next time, I won’t stop ya from burning yourself.’ Or maybe, “That oaf? Sorry, the only thing he’s attracted to is balls. Volleyballs, that is.”

What he does instead, is sigh heavily, and a little exasperatedly.

“Did ya two idiots finally figure it out?”

Your heart skips a beat. “What?”

“You heard me,” Osamu says, turning up the flame once more. He stirs the simmering broth as he speaks. “He’s been actin’ stupid all week. And you’ve been actin’ stupid around him for a while.”

Oh. Oh.

There’s no way you’re ever putting those expectations away ever again, because that stupid box is all soggy at the bottom now. Soggy, because the raging mix of relief and happiness swirling around in your chest— the weight lifted off your shoulders because you don’t have to pretend anymore— is making you tear up.

Osamu hears you sniffle.

“Aw, c’mon,” he says, tapping off the broth and setting the spoon beside the stove, “you know he isn’t worth cryin' over.” There’s a cheeky grin on his face, as he brings his large hands up to your face, wiping away the tears. “Want me to beat him up for ya?”

(You think he really might be your best friend.)

“You’re just looking for an excuse to!” You say, pulling his hands away as you laugh.

He holds them up in mock defence. “Hey, two birds and all. Are you going call him?”

You’re already scrambling inside your purse. “I… think I forgot my phone at work.”

He clicks his tongue. “I take it back, yer perfect for each other.”

“Hey!” You say it indignantly, but his words make you feel warm. Perfect for each other. “Can I borrow your phone? Would that be weird?”

“He’d make it weird,” Osamu scoffs. “Just go over.”

“I— I should bring him something.”

He makes an amused expression. “Okay.”

“I don’t know what.”

“Are you asking me for help?”

You make your best puppy face. “Please?”

Osamu sighs. “Well, he’s been complainin’ about those raisin bran cookies for weeks now…”

“I think it would be best if you don’t say anything. Just let it blow over,” the publicist says. She’s using the speakerphone, and her voice sounds far away. Atsumu can hear the clack of keyboard keys in the background. “I mean it, Miya. Log out of everything. No, uninstall everything.”

“Don’t ya trust me even a little bit?” Atsumu asks. He tries to sound teasing, but his heart isn’t in it.

“No,” she says bluntly. The call goes blank.

Atsumu collapses back on to his bed, legs hanging over the edge. He holds his phone up over his face, staring at the ‘call ended’ until the screen turns itself off, and then sighs heavily.

It’s not that he’s worried. She was right, it would blow over. But it would happen again. And he knows that each time, it would chip off a little piece of you; and eventually leave your edges jagged and rough enough to cut.

You’d resent him for it.

Atsumu unlocks his phone. It’s easy enough to find those pictures of you and Osamu again.

You look so happy.

He doesn’t think he was being delusional earlier, he knows there was something more than plain embarrassment in your eyes when you’d looked at him; and yet, he can’t shake the thought that he’s being selfish.

The photo is cropped awkwardly, and he knows you and Osamu are close, but he can’t help but feel disheartened, and then hate himself for feeling like that. Were you two actually seeing each other? Was he meddling in his brother’s happiness, your happiness? What did he have to offer that his brother didn’t, save for the scrutiny of strangers?

The phone buzzes.

His eyes flick up to the notification bar. It’s a DM request from one of his new-found confidantes.

(Well, it's not like I've got anything better to do.)

In that brief moment, Atsumu understands his mother, and her panic at the state of the house when guests were imminent. He even understands, as he turns a couple of the trophies he has on display a few degrees to the left, why she would go around adjusting her many throw pillows in those last few seconds. That time seemed to stretch endlessly.

And then the doorbell rings, and time seems to somehow come to a stop and rush forward at the same time.

Atsumu stumbles on the carpet as he rushes to open the door.

And there you are.

“Hey, Atsumu,” you say, fiddling with the lid of the plastic container in your hands, “can we talk?”

(Wow, he thinks for some reason. I think those are cookies.)

Osamu walked her over because the publicist was calling around to find her, when she couldn't get a hold of reader on her number. He was worried about her going alone. What a prince. Divider @/cafekitsune Tweet images edited from here and Shokubutsu Zukan (by Tsutsumi Kakeru). Had a hard time finding the source for that image lol, it's been used in SO many fic headers. Each time I reverse image searched, If found a slightly less cropped version until it ended as the full page. and then i had to google translate this russian pirated manga site. next chapter will be the last + I will post a little bonus from the osamu POV. :)

#atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #my fic

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piratefalls · 6 months

Text

oh my god this got obscenely long. you're welcome?

list one. list two. list three. list four.

Any Beat of Your Heart (Gets Me Through the Night) by stellarmeadow

Alex throws out the first pitch at the Opening Day baseball game, but things go horribly wrong.

kiss me once 'cause you know by ninzied

Of all the things they’ve been to one another—sometimes-rivals, reluctant allies, tediously cordial seatmates at international events—Henry never thought that he and Alex would end up being something like friends. (In which Alex sort of moves in and they don't talk about what it means.)

Mr. BodyPillow by inexplicablymine

“It is hard enough trying to get a date out here when all I really want is to curl up with someone’s head on my chest and play with their hair” “I could do that for you sweetheart” _______ Two boys cuddling on a couch right on top of each other because they are in fact very gay™. Inviting over a complete stranger for cuddles because you are touch starved might be the worst idea Henry has ever had, or the best.

Little Moments by politics_and_prose

Five significant moments in Alex's political career and one in his personal life.

The Case Of The Fucking Curse by everwitch

Henry gets inflicted by a deadly royal curse. The only way to break it is to have sex with a person who possesses the correct physical compatibility, so the crown puts out a desperate plea for people meeting the right criteria to enter a screening process. You’ll never guess who turns out to be the final candidate at the end. Or: the most wholesome Fuck Or Die you’ve read in your life.

You Got Me, and Baby I Got You by princebutt

Alexander Claremont-Diaz, charismatic center for the NHL's Dallas Stars, is completely and utterly smitten with the posh British librarian he met by complete accident. Tonight is the night, and he's got a plan to completely woo Henry and get his man.

cowboy like me by stutteringpeach

Alex was looking for money tonight. And with Henry Mountchristen-Windsor, the gorgeous young heir to the Windsor Group, he sure as hell found it. If Alex is looking to charm someone out of their millions, it might as well be someone he’s going to enjoy stealing from.

but if you could see us from a distance, you'd know i've always been so close to you by anincompletelist (soldouthaz)

Objectively, standing half-soaked from rainwater with a stitch in his side and an uncomfortable, raging hard-on outside his worst enemy’s door is not Henry’s finest moment. It’s not even on the list. -- or, henry is afflicted with a curse-gone-wrong that stipulates that only his sworn enemy, alex claremont-diaz, can touch him.

(did my love aid and abet you?) by alasse

That night in Kensington Palace, Henry told Alex to leave. Eleven years later, Alex watches on the news as Henry comes out, and abdicates. A story of what came before, and what comes after.

It’s been eleven fucking years, and Henry is finally free. It’s been eleven fucking years, and Henry is finally out. It’s been eleven fucking years, and Alex Claremont-Diaz still hasn’t learned how to be normal about Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor.

it's a scene (and we're out here in plain sight) by annesbonny

"I don’t want us to be in the press for anything other than how good I am at polo, and how charming you look in that shirt.” Henry just wants the Fifth Annual Okonjo Foundation Polo Match to run smoothly, but that's harder than it seems.

lover, tell me if you can by loyaulte_me_lie

Henry has a wobble on their first anniversary. They practise healthy communication and everything ends happily.

Debasing the Prince (And Other Inappropriate Decisions) by orphan_account

Henry in a suit and tie turns Alex into a combination of the heart-eyed and drooling emojis. He can't help it that the goddamned prince of England looks glorious all dressed up. So he meets him in his bedroom and does super inappropriate things with the tie and the prince. This is basically Tale of the Debauchery of a Prince™.

Soon You'll Get Better (Because You Have To) by wafflesandkruge

Two nights after the shooting, Henry receives an email with a pre-recorded video from Alex. He gets one every night, and although it breaks his heart to see Alex happy and alive, he's terrified of when they'll stop coming.

(when you look like that) i never ever wanted to be so bad by hipsterchrist

“How many times have I told you now?” Henry asks, voice still quiet. “In the bedroom, we’re equals.” Alex knows a door left ajar intentionally when he sees it.“ But we’re not in the bedroom, are we?” he mutters. Henry smirks and turns away. Alex nearly falls over trying to follow the loss of Henry’s hand on his face. “It certainly would seem that way,” Henry says, loud and clear, leaning against the wall again. “And so I will have to insist on some degree of deference. Do you think you can manage that?” Or, Alex has a fantasy involving a tack room and Henry's polo uniform, and Henry is all too happy to fulfill it.

if i ever saw you try to be a saint by inmoonlightigetseasick

He turns back, waiting for further instruction from Luna when Henry actually gets up and approaches him to talk. “I must apologize about the hour,” he says, faking sincerity so well Alex recants his doubts about Henry’s acting chops, “this was my fault, I have a shoot for a music video later today and after that I’m on a flight back to jolly old England as it were, loads of publicity for the latest album.” “You sound like a busy guy,” Alex says, with a small, tight smile, “sure you’ll have time for our little movie?” “I will make the time,” he says, his eyes are a bottomless blue, they shine, deceptively truthful, he turns to Luna, “I cannot tell you how great an honour it is to be considered for this role. What you’ve done here,” he gestures to his script, “I think it’s amazing.” Alex hates that Henry is right. -- AU in which Alex is an up-and-coming actor slated to star in in-demand director Rafael Luna's highly anticipated queer coming-of-age film. For Alex, keen to share his own bisexuality with the world, it's the perfect project to be his true starmaking vehicle -- but for one thing-- his nemesis Henry Fox, a wildly popular rock star, might end up playing his love interest.

searching low in the night by saltfics

“Just say it's okay. I just need to hear you say that.” Henry steps outside for just a second, but when Alex goes to find him, he finds only empty streets and an excrutiating feeling of dread in his place.

whenever you're ready by perfect-porcelain (tedddylupin)

“Pez. Please, will you stop tagging me in TikTok thirst traps?” Henry asked as he stepped into his friend’s car. Pez lowered his Gucci sunglasses on his nose, looking at Henry without anything obscuring his vision and just laughed before pushing them back up with his middle finger. “Don’t fucking lie to me, I know you love them.” Or: the one where Henry falls in lust with a TikToker making pottery and leaves drunken thirst comments

hold me close (when the cameras are off) by viciouslyqueer

Henry Fox is a very well-known model. It’s hard to name a magazine he hasn’t been on the cover of, or a photographer that isn’t ready to drop everything just to book a shoot with him. Now he’s barely smiling, slightly parted lips, yet somehow still looking kind as the photographer behind the camera takes picture after picture. His pristine blond hair is delicately styled so it doesn’t fall out of place, and the cherry blossom flowers next to him and beige background give him an angelic look that makes people in the studio stop what they’re doing just to watch. He looks beautiful. Alex hates it. — When models Alex and Henry have to pose together for a shoot, Alex realizes he might not hate Henry after all.

it was you he gave me by coffeecatsme

The tattoo artist traces Alex’s thigh with a gloved finger as she grabs the needle, brows furrowed as if she’s trying to make sense of the lettering. “This is beautiful,” she says, awe in her voice. Alex feels a sort of pride surge through him. “Who’s the poet?” Alex smiles. “If I tell you, can you keep a secret?” Or, Alex finds a pen in their sex toy drawer and Henry finds a use for it.

yours for the afternoon by railmedaddy

“Another day then, tomorrow? Or Saturday, I can do Saturday, I’ll give you my number,” Hunter says, starting to reach for Henry’s phone. Henry knocks it off the table and prays it doesn’t crack. Christ. Is he going to have to leave the coffee shop to get rid of Hunter? He bends down to pick his phone up and when he rights himself, Hunter is waiting expectantly with his hand out for Henry’s phone. He drops it into his bag under the table. “Very kind of you Hunter, but I’m really quite booked up and—" “Sorry I’m late, sweetheart,” comes a drawl Henry vaguely recognises. OR Henry is quietly minding his own business in his favourite coffee shop, when he’s rudely interrupted by an insufferable man attempting to flirt with him. He’s rescued by none other than Alex – a fellow cafe regular who he’s long admired from a distance – posing as his date.

Háblame dulce by QueenKatelynTheAristocrat

"Alex gently drew Henry back to the waking world on a lazy Tuesday morning in their brownstone with a kiss, a cup of Earl Gray, and the words, “Hoy, hablamos español.” Also known as: Henry is learning Spanish for Alex, and Alex is happy to help him.

5 Times Alex Went Viral (+1 Time Henry Did) by clottedcreamfudge

Alex downloads TikTok on a Saturday and by Monday he's completely obsessed. Henry is clearly a little bewildered by this, but he doesn't seem to mind when Alex starts singing sea shanties and trying - with limited success - to harmonise with himself in the shower. *** aka FicTok (aka ‘Five times Alex tested TikTok trends on Henry and one time Henry got his own back’) (aka 'Five times Alex made life hard for Henry and one time Henry just made Alex hard' - you can blame ifyoustay for that one)

Slide, Crawl into the Shades of Light by Mags (sparklepocalypse)

Eventually, they part long enough to buckle their seatbelts, and then the car eases forward in the direction of Kensington Palace. Alex reaches across the seat and cups Henry’s cheek. “You’ve been biting your lips again,” he notes, rubbing a thumb over the rough skin. “When we get back to the apartment we should run a bath, and maybe after, I can make you some tea.” Henry smiles – and it nearly reaches his eyes – and covers Alex’s hand with his own. “That sounds wonderful,” he murmurs. “It’s been a long week.” (Post-movie; Alex and Henry doing that transcontinental couple life thing, and Henry's had a shit week. Alex gives him several orgasms about it.)

A Tiny Shred of Hope by cmere

Henry reacts in the immediate aftermath of his first kiss with Alex.

Most Cordially Invited by aldiara

In which a formal invitation is extended, a royal mirror is defiled, and Alex cusses a lot.

The Bet by bleedingballroomfloor

Looking back at it, it's all Nora's fault. Or, the time Henry and Alex bet on who can last the longest without sex.

Play Me a Song by allmylovesatonce

Every night, like clockwork, Alex's upstairs neighbor plays the piano for two hours, giving Alex the motivation to sit and do his own work so that he can listen. One night, he leaves a letter for his neighbor to thank him for the music. When his neighbor comes to his door to thank him for the note, he finds it's the same cute guy he's been running into in the lobby.

Speak for Yourself by LolaLand (Lola_di_Penates)

Alex could have walked out of the Williamsburg apartment at any time. Instead, he decides to sign up to twelve months of Henry. OR Alex makes a rash decision and Henry inexplicably runs with it. (The "accidental housemates" AU that literally no-one asked for).

london bridge has fallen down by indomitablelove

Alex can feel the eyes of the room on him as Shaan approaches his side. Then, Shaan quietly murmurs in his ear. They’re words he’s thought about before, distantly wondering about what might happen when they were finally uttered. How their lives might change. There’s nothing that can prepare him for the reality of it though, nothing that can prepare him for how his breath hitches when Shaan speaks. ‘London Bridge is down, Sir.’ --- Queen Mary is dead. Henry doesn't know how to feel.

i wouldn't stop for red lights by matherine

There are flowers on Henry’s desk when he comes into work. They’re pretty, really – chosen by someone who knows him, because there are hydrangeas and white roses and daffodils, and certainly not enough baby’s breath for the bouquet to have been cheap. Not that Henry would make assumptions, nor that he’s the sort of person that would look up the cost of a gift, but he knows who put it here. Even before he looks at the little card attached to a rose’s stem, he knows, because he gets flowers every April 15th.

Water over Blood by happinessofthepursuit

5 times a member of the British Royal Family was in love with Alex + 1 time they loved Henry

The Prince of Sex: A Collaborative Nightmare by aceinadeck, fairycat, ifigo, MaikkaPakka, ohgaywarden, Princess_Nales

"Alex is waiting for his lover Phillip, when he arrives in the bedroom Alex's jaw drops. Philip is wearing a pair of tight leather pants the outline of his massive horse cock is clearly visible and Alex can't wait to have it pump thick squirts of warm cum inside him and his butt." *** It started as a joke, something that Pez found in the depths of Real Person Fiction on Wattpad that none of them really wanted to explore too much. But he brought it up as a drinking game, something that would get all of them absolutely wasted since this was the first time they were able to get together in almost four months.

An Open Heart by absoluteaudacity

"But, and I hope you’ll forgive me for taking so long to get to the point, they listened and hugged me and told me they loved me no matter what. I gather they feel very guilty that I felt I had to keep my sexuality a secret. Mum had to stop Dad from going straight down to Buckingham and yelling at Gran; I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry. They’ve agreed that we’ll keep it to the family for the moment but they’ve made it clear I have their support if I ever want to come out publicly. We’re a long way from that, I think, but at least I know the way is partially clear for us. At least I don’t have to pretend anymore."

It's Getting Hot in Here (So Hot!) by Celaestis

Henry’s firm and unwavering belief in Alex’s hetrosexuality does wonders for their relationship. He can coexist with Alex in the same lobby for entire half-minutes at a time while checking for post, he can make solid eye contact during glances in the hallway. Alex is still the most beautiful man he’s ever beheld, and maybe Henry’s hook-ups are tending towards the Latino types more than they ever did in the UK, but still. Alex is straight. Henry is fine about it. Really.

i'd fall to pieces on the floor if you weren't around by karish

Suddenly, Alex feels like he’s gonna throw up and he feels cold all over. Because this sounds like a goodbye. It sounds like a suicide note. Fuck. God. Please no. AKA: Alex wakes up to find a note from Henry and jumps to the worst possible conclusions.

Wedding Talk by maritinkerbell

“You know, H, I’m not sure anything is going to give me greater pleasure than forcing all your homophobic cousins to smile and make nice while I put a fucking ring on it.” OR An upcoming family wedding leads Henry and Alex to discuss marriage for the first time.

Little Secrets Grow Up To Be Big Lies by DracoWillHearAboutThis

Henry meets Alex in a café as he's hiding from the Crown, the media and the public in general. But Alex is charming and alluring and draws him in right away. Alex also has no idea that he's a Prince.

Give Me Comfort, Give Me Help by dwell_the_brave

“I’ll be back by Thursday,” Philip promises, giving Martha a hand up the jet’s steps. She gives them a brief wave from the top of the stairs before disappearing. “Make sure you don’t ski off a cliff!” Bea calls after him as he follows his wife into the jet. He waves a hand dismissively at her and then withdraws into the darkness of the cabin. That’s the last thing any of them say to him. - Philip dies, and Henry becomes heir.

i could be a better boyfriend by bananzie

It wasn't that Alex didn't like telling people about Henry—quite the opposite, actually—it was just that no one ever believed him when he did. An AU in which Henry is one of England’s most famous rugby players, Alex met him during an exchange year, and they’re so in love it’s sickening, but no one believes him.

Just like that. by myheartalive

“I’m so glad my subpar sexual encounter has fed the brain worms. Something’s got to keep the little guys going.” Henry’s more relaxed now that he’s teasing Alex, and looks a lot more like his normal self. It feels a little easier to talk to him, to actually say what he’s thinking. “It’s just… I realised if that was me, I also wouldn’t know how to do it. How to find your…” “Prostate?” “Yeah. That.” — When Henry comes home from a date frustrated by the guy’s lack of expertise, Alex starts having thoughts. And then, because he’s Alex, he sticks his big foot in his even bigger mouth.

Kinda think that I might be his type by kiwiana

“Bea.” He clambers onto his knees, grabbing her hands in his own. “Bea, take me to Thanksgiving with you.” Bea blinks. Blinks again. “What?” “Bea, I could terrorise your gran until she’s begging you to stay single forever.” Or, Alex agrees to be his friend's fake boyfriend for a weekend. He is not prepared for his friend's brother.

until next wednesday! if you want me to tag you in future lists, let me know!

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #alex and henry #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz #Alex x Henry #fic rec #RWRB fic rec #RWRB fanfiction #rwrb rec list

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rewh0re · 11 months

Text

─HURT ME ONCE, HURT ME TWICE; ITOSHI SAE

Angst, 1.1k words. I honestly am not sure what i wrote but it's something and idts I've written full angst here before so this is like testing the waters. Give it a read.

You were not a big fan of bars. You much preferred staying at home, enjoying a drink or two with your friends rather than in a place full of strangers. So, when you agreed to your coworker's proposal to celebrate your promotion at work in what was one of the biggest and fanciest bars in the city, you were quite perplexed yourself.

So, here you were, all dressed up, downing what was maybe the third or fourth drink of your celebratory night. There was laughter and cheers from your coworkers and you were elated to be amongst a crowd that cared for you.

However what you didn't expect was to see Itoshi Sae amongst the many strangers in the aesthetically lit bar. Your laughter ceased and your smile slowly faltered as you saw a tuft of magenta a few tables in front of you. You could see his back from where you were seated but there was no way you could not recognise his stature. Your eyes widened, lips parting slightly before you clenched your jaw. You felt a sense of nostalgia as the memories of when you were with him came rushing back. All the times he held you and all the times you whispered in the dark and the numerous dates you went on and how he lit up your world with the smile that you were lucky enough to see. You both used to be each other's safe haven. Your coworkers didn't seem to notice your sudden dilemma as they were immersed in glory, joy and alcohol.

Your breathing seemed to quicken a bit, and eyes almost popped out of the sockets as he turned around to lock eyes with you. He must have felt the intensity of your gaze. His eyes were cold and hard as he looked at you, looking away as fast as possible. You saw Sae leaving the bill on the table as he got up to leave. You had to talk to him. You saw him after ages, you would beat yourself over it if you let him go now.

You excused yourself from your table as you followed your past lover outside the bar.

"Sae," you called out as you reached the parking lot. He ignored you as he unlocked his car.

"Sae, please. Listen to me," you pleaded again, eyes already getting a bit teary.

He turned around as he heard the slight, barely there tremble in your voice. He could always point out when you were about to cry. His jaw was clenched and he looked straight at you. His eyes didn't hold the softness they once did when they looked at you. His face screamed that he just wanted to get done with you. That hurt. That ripped you apart at the seams because the Sae you once knew would leave everything to be with you.

"Sae..." You started. Now that he was here, now that you both were talking, you were out of words. You didn't know what to say.

"What do you want from me?" His tone was curt. He was irritated and annoyed already.

"I miss you Sae," you took a few steps towards him. He took a few steps back, keeping a distance from you. Everything Sae does hurts.

"You have absolutely no right to say that y/n," he shook his head as a look of bewilderment struck his face.

What were you even talking about? You were the one who broke his heart. You were the one who wanted to leave him and end your relationship. You didn't have the right to say that you missed him.

"You were the one who broke us off, remember?" He pointed out and broke your heart a little more in the process.

"I know. It was what I thought was the best for us at that time. You know how busy I was with college and you with your career," you tried moving towards him again, cautiously, as if you were testing the waters, see if he would move away again. He didn't. He stood his ground.

"And? Relationships have these problems y/n. Yes you were busy with college and I with my career and we didn't get enough time to be around each other. I know that, I do," he was seething by now. Eyes enveloped in pure rage and you knew you would break.

"I was trying my level best to juggle practices and interviews and give you time. I made it my mission to meet you almost everyday and check up on you on the days I couldn't make it. What did you do? Sat there in your room, didn't even bother to talk it out with me. You just got up and left one day. That hurt me," he calmed down towards the end. The last sentence was said in a hushed whisper, so soft that you almost missed it. Almost. Your eyes softened, tears falling. You hurt him? You promised to never do that.

"Don't cry. You do not have the right to cry l/n y/n. You do not," he gulped as if he was trying his hardest to keep his emotions at bay.

"Sae, I was young and stupid. I thought it would be the best for us--"

"Exactly! You thought about it. You. You didn't even try to understand my thoughts or ask my opinions regarding the matter," his voice raised by a few decibels.

"I'm sorry Sae," you said softly. What else could you say except that.

"You didn't pick up my calls. You didn't answer any of my texts. You blocked me after a month for fucks sake. I tried mailing you and that didn't work. I showed up to your house and your roommate would not let me in. I tried for six months y/n. Six months!" He rubbed his hands across his face. God he was tired. Tired of all of this.

"I don't deserve forgiveness. I messed it up, I messed us up. That will forever be my biggest regret. I love you so much Sae and i know my words might mean nothing now but--"

He interrupted you yet again, "you're right. It means absolutely nothing now. Now, if you'll excuse me. Have a good night y/n."

With that he walked away. You saw him walk towards his car and you stood there like a mannequin not being able to do anything. He was walking away from your life yet again, maybe for good this time and you could not help it. Your heart hurt and your world came to a halt.

You saw him get into his car and drive away and just like that the man you loved the most, the man who once promised to never let you go as he held you close to him on a cold winter's night, was out of your life. Yet again. This time, you knew you had to let him go, even if all of you screamed to not lose him.

REBLOGS + INTERACTIONS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED!!

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sweetpiccolo-blog · 5 months

Text

Not in this universe (ANGST)

RBR! Sebastian Vettel x Reader

Warnings: Angst, tiny bit of blood, verbal fighting, a sad ending : (

Words: 1 k

“My biggest mistake was listening to you today. My quali lap went to shit!” Sebastian lashes out and kicks a box in his driver's room. You stand there and watch his childish behavior. “No. Your biggest mistake was NOT listening to me. If you had went to box for wets like I told you, that pole would have been yours.” You tell him calmly yet sternly with your hands folded. He looked at you like he wanted to strangle you with his mind.

For context: Seb and other nine drivers got into Q3. Unfortunately in the middle of it, it started to rain. You still had some time to make a fast lap with new wet tires and heat them up to claim pole position for tomorrow's race. But of course the stubborn German had none of it and continued to fly on the track in mediums with no care. You tried to reason with him but then he got into a puddle and spun on the track. For a moment you lost your breath. He went into gravel, causing a red flag, completely stopping the session. Thanks to that, his teammate got pole - which made Seb´s blood boil with rage.

“The session was ending! It would be useless!” He said. “You could have crashed Seb! I'm trying to help you.” You stepped away from the wall which you were leaning on and approached him : “Why the hell would I try to sabotage you!?” You frown your brows at him. “Because you hate me! You are trying for a revenge…” He spits out in accusatory tone.

You are taken aback by this. “Seb what the hell?? You seriously think I am that petty?”

He looks you in the eye and approaches you. He is quiet. The Red Bull driver looks you up and down and gets closer. You are creeped out by this and slowly back away from him. “... say something…” You whisper weakly. Still nothing until you are forced to hit a wall with your back. “God.” he smirks “... you are so pathetic.” You look for some sort of reassurance that the Seb you know, is the one in front of you. But with no luck. Suddenly you are choked by his hand and forced to look at his stern face. “You are the best mistake in my life.” What? What did he just say? “A mis-mistake…?” You try to say. “ I shouldn't have begged you to be my engineer. I thought having a quick-witted and patient woman like yourself would be a perfect choice. Turns out… you are a stealthy backstabber.”

At this moment your eyes started to burn and well up with tears. Where is this coming from? Why is he so mean? You only ever wanted the best for him. “stop- '' You plead in a quiet raspy whisper. “Why should I listen to you? HUH? I give you a platform to build your dream career on in a masculine environment and what do you do?” He whispers harshly into your ear. “ I didn't do anything wrong…” You struggle against his grip. “Wrong. You make me fall for you and then you make a tantrum when I try to fight against the feelings.” Oh not this. Not the past. You already talked about this. You beg him to stop talking about this and by now the tears are rolling down your cheeks. “- Seb…please” “Please what? I have a job to do. I cannot get distracted by anyone. I tried to deal with it my own way… That's why you tried to make me crash today.” he says through gritted teeth. He lets you finally go and you gasp for air as you fall on your knees and it is hard to breathe through the tears. Your neck will definitely be bruised. He crouches down in front of you.

You look at him with spite and say : “Why don't you just fire me if you hate me so much?” He looks you dead in the eye. “I don't hate you. I never had. I couldn't even if you told me to.”

You look at him confused as ever. You want to storm out of that stupid room and never come near him. At least that's how you felt at that moment. Your mind is completely drowned in thoughts that you don't even register the German kissing you. Your eyes shed tears and your soft lips melt with his. His stubble scratches your skin and that's when you realize what's happening. You bit his lip and he swiftly pulls away from you. His hand goes to his bloody lip and when he sees the blood on his fingertips . If you weren't terrified you would admire his beauty: dilated eyes, bloody lip, heavy breathing, messy hair… He is breathtaking but also scary.

Seb licks his cut. He can't believe it. The taste of metal on his tongue makes him wake up from his anger and that's when he looks at you. He is back.

“Im so sorry…” you shush him , not letting him finish his apology. Standing up , you make his gaze follow you to a med kit. You rummage around and find a wipe and some alcohol. When you approach him, his eyes look up to you as if you were some kind of angel. You sit down in front of him and softly lift his chin up. You start working on his little injury and he doesn't even move. His eyes full of adoration follow you. You finish your little work and set the things aside.

Sebastian grabs your hands in his and with a small voice questions you : “ How can YOU not hate me?”

You slowly kiss his forehead and brush his cheek. “I could never… even if you tried your best to make me hate you. I know you pushed me away because you care about me and I will do whatever you think is the best for us.” He tries to make you stay “But what if I want you? What if I need you?” You smile at him sadly “I cannot fulfill that wish of yours. Maybe in another time or in another universe. But not here and not now.”

You give him a final kiss on top of his head and then leave the room. You know if you turned back, he would hate you for giving in. So you leave the garage and go to the hotel, while you think about how you will handle tomorrow's race…

#f1 #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 one shot #sebastian vettel #f1 angst #sv5 #sebastian vettel fanfic #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel x you #angst

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writerpetals · 1 year

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the ghost and the flower | 🔞

; optional male lead smut | ☁️

a/n: so this story is inspired by Simon “Ghost” Riley, but it’s not ACTUALLY him obviously because I write optional main character stories so you can picture anyone, and this plot wouldn’t make sense for his character anyway (but i’m the writer i make the rules lol). It’s easy to picture him if you want, but you can picture someone else, too. Just keep note this story is about a big, strong special ops soldier with a monster dick (because I wanted to write about a monster dick) so yeah :’)

w: enemies to lovers, they hate each other and fight a lot, minor primal play kink, major mask kink LOL, a little bit of military/special ops talk (i don’t know shit about military rankings but i did my best hehe), mention of guns and knives, controlling mmc, a little possessive, a little jealousy, unprotected sex, alcohol and being under the influence, lots of dirty things done in a mask and gloves... oh and this story is 20k words lol

[. playlist for story that helped me write .]

“I want you to know how much I hate this.” Your eyes narrow as you stare down your father’s expression, serious as ever, hoping he’s joking when he says the military brute standing next to you is in charge of you until further notice. Your father, the commander, remains stoic behind his office desk. “This has got to be a joke…”

You side eye your supposed bodyguard as he towers over you. He doesn’t look your way or even pretend to care about the situation. Not like it would matter considering you can’t even see his face or body in the protective gear he adorns. A balaclava mask covers everything on his face but his eyes, a white painted skull covering most of the fabric. The hood over his head hides his hair and ears, the rest of him covered by all black tactical equipment, but it doesn’t hide the fact that he's definitely strong, and big, and a little scary.

“No joke, sweetheart,” your father sighs, and you turn your attention back to him. “You know with my line of work and the investigations I do things can get risky for you. This is my only choice until we wrap up this case. Now that’s all I’m going to say about it. The lieutenant here is going to keep you out of harm’s way. That’s all.”

“Ugh,” you stomp your foot and huff. “And with my line of work, I have to travel all over the world at a moment’s notice so tell me how I can do that with this…”

You turn to the intimidating Lieutenant next to you, finally seeing his eyes peer down at you. He says not a word.

“...man hovering over me?” His cheek puffs out a little, as if he’s smirking under that creepy skull mask of his. You don’t have time to think anything of it. Not with the rage coursing through you. You’ve worked so hard to become the pop artist you are today. You’ve just released one of the best selling records in your country. You have a tour to plan, TV shows to appear on, interviews, fan meetings. Not to mention rehearsals and vocal practice. You can’t hide away just because your father decided to make his career out of taking down the worst criminals in the world. “I don’t need protection. I need to make music and meet with my fans. That’s all I’ve ever cared about.”

"Your little music thing can wait, alright?" Your father dismisses you like he always has. You know he's never cared much for your music, too busy catching the bad guys. He's never been to a concert because he's always in another country. Maybe he's never even listened to a song you wrote, but he definitely makes time to scoff at the outfits you've planned out or the current actor or singer you're having a night out with.

"My little music thing?" His words cut you deep even though you should be used to it by now.

“Commander….” The brute finally speaks, his deep voice taking you by surprise at your attention jerks toward him. “Am I really suited for this? No disrespect, but aren’t I a little… overqualified to be some pop star’s bodyguard?”

“Ugh!” Your eyes narrow, but neither man pays you any attention. "He doesn't even want to be doing this! Can't I just hire a team like a normal celebrity?" You grow more offended by the second. Heat practically radiates off your body at the two of them disregarding you.

“You know why you’re in this position Lieutenant.” Your father’s voice grows stern, disappointed even. He pays no mind to your offer of hiring your own bodyguards. At least this way you would have more control. “Allow me to remind you of the last mission you went off schedule for just because of that damn temper of yours.”

“I had a hunch.”

“You have anger inside you and you needed someone to take it out on.” Your father slams his fist on his desk, rattling the pens and causing a picture of you when you were younger to fall to the side. You jump back, but the soldier next to you doesn't move an inch. Maybe he's used to your father's outbursts. “You risked everyone on your team. So now this is your task until further notice. Keep my daughter safe. No one lays a hand on her. She will be under your strict supervision. Got it?”

It takes a full ten seconds before another word is spoken. You see the Lieutenant's jaw tighten under the mask. Then the tension leaves his body. “Affirmative, commander.”

***

The reality still hasn't sunk in yet on the way to your place. Your father insisted his duties begin immediately. Now he steers a borrowed SUV with the windows blacked out for extra protection after putting your address into the GPS. Clearly the soldier has done his research on you. Maybe he was only at the meeting with your father to try to convince him this is a terrible idea. You wish he would have tried harder. You don't need protection. You need to live your life. How can you do that with this stranger watching you at all times?

"What's with the mask?" You question while in the passenger seat scrolling through your phone. "What happened at your last mission? Why did you freak out?" You don't want to sound too interested in him, but you're annoyed at the fact you have to even be near him. You don't know him, can't even see his face. All you know he's a big, strong soldier with anger issues. Did your father really think this through?

"That's classified." His short reply in a deep, yet aggravated and cold tone makes you roll your eyes.

"Classified?" You set your phone down in your lap and shake your head. "What is? The mask thing or the mission thing?"

"Both." You grow more irritated every time he speaks.

"Do you always talk to women like this?" You narrow your eyes as you ask, looking at him finally. He keeps his focus on the road. If you weren't asking questions, he would probably forget you were there.

"You're not a woman to me, you're a mission," He says, sending a wave of anger through your body to fill your chest. "Best to remember that."

"So unbelievably charming," you retort with a huff. "I bet the ladies are lining up for a chance with you."

You want to get under his skin as much as he's getting under your own, but he doesn't so much as roll an eye or huff a breath. He doesn't care at all. Maybe he thinks if he stays quiet long enough you'll just disappear.

"Not much of a talker, huh?" You ask, turning in your seat to look, hoping he would at least glance your way. "Or is that not part of the mission?"

Finally his eyes meet your own for a split second. Then back to the road. It's clear he's not going to respond. It’s a long enough glance to see something deeper there. It’s not that he’s annoyed, or you’re getting under his skin. He looks faraway. Lost and lonely.

No, no, that's crazy. You’re not going to instantly feel sorry for him. Not after being forced into this situation.

This is going to be so fun, you think.

When the two of you arrive at the parking garage to your condo, he grabs a bag out of the back of the SUV while you grab your things upfront.

"Pack lightly, Lieutenant?" You tease with a bitter edge to your tone. You aren't sure why every second being around him makes you want to make every second of his miserable. Maybe to make him drop his mission and you altogether.

"I have what I need," is all he says as he reaches to close the back door. When he does, his leather jacket rises for you to see the gun in its holster at his waist.

"Wait, you can't bring that thing in my home!" You step closer, pointing at his waist.

"What?" He freezes, then looks down to where you're pointing and back up. "My gun or something else?"

If you were in any other situation you would appreciate a good dick joke, but it only makes you angry again. You’re aware he’s probably not even joking. He just wants to piss you off.

"The gun, obviously," you reply with a tightened jaw. "That's dangerous. What if it goes off? What if—"

"Trust me," He interrupts, stepping forward to where you have to look up to match his eyes, "I know what I'm doing. You don't have to worry about that, sweetheart."

For a split-second your breath becomes trapped in your throat. He's bigger than you realized earlier. He's hovering over you. He's calling you pet names you would normally find charming or cute. Coming from him it sounds like a promise and a threat. You can't explain the pressure in your chest or the shaking in your knees in the moment, so you blink a few times to rid yourself of any oncoming thoughts about what he just said.

"I don't trust you," you whisper. His eyes flinch for a moment. Is he actually surprised by that? How could you trust a stranger?

He says nothing, but he doesn't back down, so you do it for him and turn on your heel. Together the two of you make it up to your condo. You take your shoes off at the front door, looking down at his big, black boots hoping he will do the same. He doesn't make an attempt at all. You'll be mopping your floors in no time. Another thing to annoy you.

"Here's your room." You guide him toward the back of the condo, past the spacious kitchen and connecting living room, and even the guest bathroom to reach a smaller bedroom. There's only a full size bed on the far wall. A dresser you didn't want, but didn't want to get rid of, and a closet on the opposite wall. You didn't bother decorating or adding your personal touch when you just bought the place and haven't been home much considering your schedules. "Hopefully the bed isn't too small," you say, before turning to walk away, but you stop.

"Problem?" he asks, tossing his bag on the bed and not even bothering to look at you.

"Are you going to be with me all the time?"

He says yes without hesitation.

"My schedules? Meetings with my team?"

He turns around to look at you. "Yes."

"When I'm sleeping?" Your heart begins to race.

"If I need to."

"When I'm showering?" Warmth begins to swirl in your stomach.

Behind the balaclava, you notice his brow raise. "Are you asking or hoping?"

You narrow your eyes. "I, w… ugh!"

Good one, you think as you turn around and storm off. This is going to be a nightmare.

***

Having the soldier in your house is even more awkward than you imagined. He's always lurking around you, answering phone calls with code names and keywords you don't get, and flipping through folders of what you assume to be other cases while keeping his eyes on you. If you're in your music studio that was once a small office from the previous owners of the condo, he's sitting by the door while you scribble in your notebooks while sitting at a piano and recording voice memos of melodies you don't want to forget. You notice his eyes on you every time the sweet and soft humming fills the room. It's hard not to feel hot beneath his gaze. He's still so intimidating, but hopefully you've shown him you can stand up to him and refuse to be a helpless little girl that needs protecting. It’s all so ridiculous, anyway.

When you're on the phone with your assistant Marjorie, he keeps his ear trained on your words and eyes focused on you. You give him as many dirty looks as you can, but he doesn't seem fazed. It's clear he takes his mission seriously. Then the thought of you only being a mission gets to you and annoys you all over again. How could your father put you in this position? He’s never cared about it with his job before, but you quickly make the connection that the more your career takes off, the more eyes will be on you. Even those eyes of dangerous men that can link you to your father.

Still, you think it’s all so unnecessary. You’re a private person for the most part. How would dangerous men even know where to find you?

You roll your eyes and shake your head of useless thoughts, not wanting to be late for your date that night with Elijah. You’ve been seeing him for a few months casually, but lately have grown to really, really like him, and soon you know the tabloids will be buzzing with the rumors of the two of you being an item.

At least, that’s what he’s mentioned to you from time to time. He’s a music producer that landed a highly valued position at his father’s record label early on. Safe to say, he’s a big deal, and handsome as hell. You don’t care about how this could affect your career either way. You just enjoy being with him.

You put the finishing touches on your make-up and slip on your black dress before making your way to your front door to grab your purse and heels.

However, the Lieutenant is there in a flash right along with you. He’s staring down at you behind his mask, but you can see his brow raised.

“Going somewhere?”

“Yes, actually,” you reply, not even bothering to look at him again while slipping your heels on. “I have a date. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“A date? You should have told me. I’d wear something more appropriate.”

You stop in an instant. There’s no way this man thinks he’s going to accompany you on a date like a parent. You turn to look at him, seeing him in a thin black t-shirt to match his cargo pants and boots, but now you notice one strong, tattooed arm folding across his chest with the other.

“Um, no! No way!” You shake your head and toss your hands in the air. “I don’t need protection while on a date. It’s personal and plus, Elijah will be there!” No, of course Elijah isn’t as big and scary as the Lieutenant, and obviously doesn’t have the combat training, but he would still protect you. You hope so, anyway.

“Who the fuck is Elijah? Any my mission—”

“Yeah, I know I’m just a mission to you, but you can’t possibly think I can show up to a date with someone like you and expect him to be okay with it.”

“Don’t give a fuck what he’s okay with. My job is to keep my eye on you. So either we’re going on this date with loverboy together, or you’re not going at all.” He steps closer, looking down at you as if to make his point more clear.

Heat burns inside of your chest, raging with your jaw clenched at how impossible this man was being. “I don’t have to listen to you. I don’t care what your mission is!”

“That may be so, sweetheart, but I will do my job whether you want me to or not.”

“Why? Because my father says so?” You narrow your eyes, stepping to him to show you aren’t afraid and you can take the challenge. “Are you really that much of a lapdog? My father says jump and you say how high? Is that what all you brainwashed stupid special ops soldiers do?”

He doesn’t say a word. You grow even more angry. You don’t even mean the things you tell him. You just want him to get as upset as he’s making you. There’s no way you can bring him to the date, and you don’t want to cancel on Elijah. He’s been out of town and you haven’t seen him in weeks. You certainly just can’t ask him to come here with the Lieutenant lurking in every corner of the room you’re in. What would he think? He’d certainly be jealous, knowing the Lieutenant is bigger, stronger, scarier… more intimating…

No, you tell yourself. What are you even thinking?

“Fine,” you whisper, clenching your jaw before finally tearing your gaze away. “I won’t go.”

You can’t believe your life has come to this…

***

“Sweetie, I have some bad news.”

Your assistant Marjorie unexpectedly shows up at your home the next day. She looks stressed. Her brown hair in messy curls around her face. The glasses on her eyes a little crooked. There’s bags under them, too. She’s clutching a folder full of papers to her chest.

“I’ve been working with the publicist since early this morning. Did, uh, something happen with Elijah?”

You frown as you let her in, stepping to the side and closing the door behind her. “What’s wrong?” Together, you make your way to your living room as she spreads the papers across the coffee table. Neither of you even noticed him sitting there, arms crossed, brow raised as he stares at the two of you. He looks over Marjorie and isn’t concerned in the slightest with her. Obviously she’s not a threat so he doesn’t even more, or make an attempt to speak.

However, the moment Marjorie spots him, she lets out a little shriek and jumps back, placing a hand on her chest. “Who—” She gives you a concerned look before she eyes the big guy out of the corner of her eye. “—is that?” Her voice trembles. It’s clear he’s intimidated her at first glance. You understand completely. If you weren’t so angry at your situation, you would feel the same.

“Sorry, I should have told you.” You place a hand on her arm to sit down on the couch with her. He still doesn’t speak even though it’s obvious to him she’s scared. “It… has to do with my father.”

That’s all that needs to be said. She knows your story. Knows you grew up around a commander that spent more of his life on work than spending time with his daughter, leaving you to be with nannies and play with maids. She knows all about the line of work he’s in, but you’ve always told her it doesn’t matter to you. It will never interfere with your dream… until now.

“I see,” is all she says. She gulps and smooths her hands over your skirt while straightening her back.

“What is the bad news, Marjorie? And what about Elijah?” You sneak a side glance at him while you ask. He seems more attentive now that your soon-to-be boyfriend’s name was mentioned.

“Well, I don’t know how to tell you this, hon’.” She opens the folder with all the papers. “I’m sorry. I know you really liked him.”

You glance down at the mock-ups of soon-to-be published articles across the table. Articles showing pictures of Elijah out with someone else. Headlines saying you are old news to the famous producer. A quote describing how Elijah working with you won’t be in his future. He’s just not much of a fan of your music, anyway. The text plastered over the image of him with an arm around a model’s waist. The same model that is friends with pop stars more popular than you. Of course he was only thinking about a paycheck.

“I was working so hard to not get them published. They were demanding outrageous things of you in return to not run the story. They wanted to know more about your father and family history in an exclusive interview. I knew you couldn’t do that…”

“No…” Your heart sinks. A heaviness settles in its place. You really did like ELijah. He told you plenty of times how much he loves your music and wants to work with you on your next project. How quickly men change their mind when it benefits them.

You look over to the Lieutenant as Marjorie goes on about things you can do to make you look better in this situation. You don’t listen. You focus on his eyes reading the headlines before they rise to meet your own. You want to blame him and be angry at him, but your heart hurts too much in the moment for anything else.

It’s not really his fault, you realize. Elijah is clearly a snake and dates whoever helps his career. You would have found that out eventually.

“But don’t worry,” Marjorie interrupts your thoughts. “You still have the award nominations coming up. A tour to plan. Fan meetings and interviews. Don’t let this get you down, sweetie.”

“I guess so,” you reply, taking a deep breath and a slow exhale. Why do you feel like crying? He wasn’t even your boyfriend, yet. Though, it doesn’t feel good to be pushed aside so quickly. For once you would love to actually be important to someone…

“So, let’s talk tour…”

Marjorie pulls a tablet out of her bag and quickly skims through possible costume designs and sets for your upcoming tour. You’re barely paying attention. You try to look over all the glittery designs and expensive props your label wants to use. She tells you they’re looking for stadiums to book across the country, but you can hardly be excited about this being your biggest tour yet. You’re barely paying attention, hurt bubbling inside of you, mixing with anger as the realization you were cast aside sets in. How could he?

Your attention is quickly drawn to the other side of the room as the impossibly silent shadow of a Lieutenant finally makes a noise. He sighs… long and drawn out… like a ghost just always lurking until he wants himself to be heard.

“Are you bored?” you ask, narrowing your eyes. “You know you don’t have to sit here, right? You can fuck right off somewhere else.” You speak with more venom in the words than you actually mean. Maybe you’re just redirecting your hurt and anger to someone that can take it, because he doesn’t care about you either.

“Oh, sorry, pop princess,” he remarks, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs. Marjorie jerks her head up to look at him, eyes going wide. Your nostrils flare at his words. “Can’t help it I’m not into this little flowery, pretty music and glittery Barbie outfits with all the flowery shit on them.”

What he says makes you rage. You’ve never wanted to slap someone more. “Right, you’re into fighting and being a fucking dick.” Marjorie gasps next to you. You’ve never been so hateful around her. Of course she’s shocked, but you’re pissed. And heartbroken, but the dumb brute doesn’t need to know that. You can give it right back to him. “Maybe you just lack taste.”

His cheek thickens as if he’s smirking beneath the mask. “Trust me, little flower, you’re not my type.”

You huff, opening your mouth to speak some vicious retort, but Marjorie beats you to it.

“Your loss,” she says quietly, looking between the two of you, then down at her lap where the outfits are still on the screen. “She’s amazing, talented, and works so hard. Her… her fans adore her.” Her voice is still shaking, but she wants to stick up for you. The anger settles a little. You know Marjorie will always be on your side, and it makes the situation a little easier to handle.

Then suddenly his little nickname hits you like a ton of bricks. Little flower? Who does he think he is?

“Little flower?” You glare at him, trying not to let the words he says affect you. “Give me a break…”

You roll your eyes and turn your attention back to Marjorie, finally putting your focus on your work and nothing more. You don’t need men distracting you any longer. Your father never caring about your music and still thinking you’re a little girl. Elijah dumping you once he saw a better opportunity for his career. Now this moody, grouchy soldier saying your music is terrible. You don’t need any of it. You’ve worked too hard to let men like them get to you now.

“Show me that super sparkly out fits a few pages back, Marj.”

You won’t be hurt by any of them.

***

“You can wait in the car.”

You hop out of the SUV after he pulls up to your label’s office building. You have too many meetings with execs today, too many things to plan, too much to worry about and the last thing you need is him drawing attention or cutting in with his snarky remarks. This is too important to you to ruin by being distracted and angry.

He follows you just as quickly as you try to outpace him while walking into the building. The girl at the front desk smiles at you before dropping her expression the moment she lays eyes on him. See? Distracting. Annoying. In your way. You don’t need it.

“If I did that, flower, I’d be disregarding my mission, wouldn’t I?” he replies as you stand to wait for the elevator to take you up to the floor where the meetings will be held.

“Oh, like you did last time you went berserk commando and risked your mission to get us both in this situation?” You huff, and you swear you hear him growl beneath the mask. He doesn’t like when you bring up his mistakes. Not at all. You smile to yourself on the inside, until you realize he’s still calling you the dumb little nickname. “And what’s with calling me that? Relax.”

He growls again. Not even trying to hide it. “Trust me, little flower, you would be in this situation regardless, and you’d much rather me than some of the other guys I’ve been with in the field.” You step onto the elevator with him right behind you. You scoff at his response while you start to rise to the top floor.

“Oh, right,” you say, turning to him to glare for a few moments. He doesn’t give you the satisfaction of a glance in return. “Because you’re just so fun to be around.” You’re already in a bad moon. Funny how quickly your day can be ruined by him.

“That’s nice of you to say, flower.” The words rip right through you, sending you from annoyed to angry. It makes it even worse because now there's a hint of humor in his tone. He likes making you this angry. That pisses you off more.

“Sure, because you’re obviously so kind and sweet and caring and compassionate and totally not a pain in my ass,” you say through your teeth just as the elevator dings and the doors open. There stands Marjorie along with the men that are attending your meeting. They’re staring at the two of you. The Lieutenant looks straight ahead, not bothered at all. You’re still glaring at him, hoping to burn a hole straight through his thick skull.

Marjorie clears her throat. Your attention turns toward her, finally realizing the situation. He chuckles softly next to you.

God, do you wish you could disappear.

***

Award season comes around once a year, and this year is the biggest one for you yet. You eagerly wait by your phone for Marjorie to call to give you the news if you’ve been nominated or not, and when she calls to say you’ve been nominated in five categories at the most prestigious award show in your country, you can only scream into the receiver.

As you’re jumping up and down on your bed due to the huge news, screaming in Marjorie’s ear as she screams back due to being so happy your hard work is paying off, the Lieutenant rushes into your room. Suddenly, he grabs your body and pulls you to him, making you drop your phone in the process.

“What’s wrong?” he frantically asks. “Are you okay?”

“What? Yes,” you say, pushing him away and picking up your phone. “Marjorie, let me call you back.” Your voice is full of excitement as you hang up the phone. You can hardly contain yourself. Not even the big soldier can ruin your day today. Finally, the industry is taking note of all your success. Finally it’s all coming together for you.

“Are you sure? You screamed rather loud. I thought someone broke in.” While he speaks, he scans your body over, from head to toe, to make sure you aren’t lying. He even runs his gloves hands along your arms, genuinely looking concerned for your safety as he inspects.

“Yes, I’m fine,” you giggle, suddenly in such a good mood you don’t even want to fight or argue with him. “Sorry, I got some really great news. I need to call my father.” More than anything, you’ve always wanted to call him up with some great news or terrific achievement so he will finally take your career seriously. For so long, you’ve been waiting for this moment. You can hardly contain yourself as you click on your father’s contact to press dial.

The Lieutenant understands, nodding and taking a step back to fold his arms over his chest. He stays put in your bedroom, but you don’t even pay attention to him. You put the phone on speaker while you begin scrolling the news articles already talking about your nominations.

“Hello? Commander speaking.”

“Dad, it’s me,” you laugh, smiling wide to yourself. Of course he's only focusing on work, answering the phone without even looking to see who was calling.

“Everything okay?” He’s speaking in sharp, short words. Quick to get to the point.

“Yes! Everything is great, actually!”

“Good, good. Sweetheart, I’m really busy right now…”

“But dad—”

“Can we talk later?” There’s commotion on the other end, hearing shuffling and mumbled voices. He’s not paying attention to you at all.

“Dad, I got nominated for five awards today and I just—”

“That’s great, sweetheart,” he interrupts. “I really have to get going. Talk soon, okay?”

“Dad—”

The phone hangs up. The excitement drains from your features. You drop your hands in your lap, staring down at his contact picture. Suddenly there’s a heaviness in your chest. It’s tight, gripping hold of your heart. What were you even happy about to begin with? You fight with yourself to keep the tears filling your lids from falling. Blinking, you take a deep breath and close your eyes.

“Five awards, eh?” Suddenly, his voice fills your ears, reminding you he’s still standing there. Great, now you have an audience once again to your heartbreak. Except this time, you have no fight in you at all.

“It’s stupid to care so much…”

“Don’t say that, little flower,” he says, earning your tear-filled eyes on him. “The only awards people like me ever get are ones when we’re already dead. It’s not stupid to be appreciated for working hard. Don’t count yourself short.”

His words take you by surprise. Raising your brows, you chuckle a tired sound and shrug. “Weren’t you just insulting my music?”

“Don’t be like that.” Suddenly, he steps toward you to take a seat on your bed next to you. His weight shifts the mattress. He’s so big next to you like this. “I didn’t really mean what I said, flower. And… I feel bad for saying it. I know you’re angry too about being in this situation. I shouldn’t have dismissed you like that. Plus, I’ve seen the way you’ve handled those bosses in your meetings. You’re tough and you know what you want.”

At that, you release a genuine laugh. “Yeah, I hate being ran over. I want complete creative control. I have a vision, you know?”

“A sparkly one.”

Now you’re giggling. “Yes, that does include sparkles, sometimes.” He chuckles. Genuinely. Your heart feels a little warmer. The heaviness in your chest feels lighter. You realize he’s trying to make you feel better. You appreciate the gesture. “Thanks for trying to cheer me up.”

“Oh, is that what I was doing?” He looks down at you, and you look up at him through your lashes. “I thought we just advanced to a new level of bickering and being annoyed with one another.”

You can’t help but to laugh. You realize he can be kind of sweet if he wants.

“I just want to be taken seriously.” You tell him with a sigh. “My father sees me as a little girl that needs protecting. Elijah saw me as an opportunity for his career. The execs at the label try to make up their mind for me until I stick up for myself. Hell, even you just see me as a mission.”

He blinks a few times, taking in your words. Then he sighs. “I didn’t mean that, either, flower.”

For the first time, you’re glad he’s there with you.

***

Even though you and him shared a sweet moment when you were hurt over your father’s dismissive attitude of you, it still irritates you when you can’t go out and do what you want. You don’t want to be careless, of course, but you just don’t see the need in being watching 24/7 like a hawk.

Especially when you got word Elijah will be attending a party, and you want to show up looking good enough to regret leaving. You have your skin tight, red dress already on, putting the finishing touches on your lipstick as you play in your mind the perfect scenario of him begging for you back. The dress cuts low into your cleavage, and rises high on your thighs. With some killer heels, he’ll be on the floor in no time.

If only there wasn’t a grumpy soldier in the way of you and the front door.

“I don’t care if you have a mission to do,” you tell him as he blocks your way, “this is important to me and I need you to get out of my way. I can’t be a prisoner forever.”

He looks you up and down, spending an extra second on your chest, before meeting your eyes. His gaze makes you hot in the moment, and now you’re unsure if it’s actually anger. “Clearly it’s important, but important or not, flower, I can’t let you out of my sight if you leave this house.” He folds his arms over his chest. “And you’re not a prisoner forever. You’re being guarded until it’s safe for you. That’s all.”

“Well, I feel like a grounded teenager.” You roll your eyes at him, folding your own arms over your chest with your heels in hand.

“Acting like it, too.”

“Fuck you.” Just when you thought the two of you were going to get along, too…

“If that’s what you want, flower.” Without warning, the big brute picks you up with ease and tosses your body over his shoulder.

“Hey, what—” You start kicking and punching his back, but he isn’t fazed at all. “Put me down!” You’re thrashing all over his shoulder, you’re not even paying attention to him bringing you to your bedroom. Without a word, he puts you down on the floor in the middle of the room before backing away.

“Want to act like a spoiled brat, you’ll get treated like it,” is all he says, stepping out of your room and closing the door behind him.

“I’m an adult!” you yell through the door. “A grown woman! I can do what I want!”

Clearly, you can’t. When you try to open the door, it doesn’t even budge an inch in your direction. But clearly he didn’t think this through. You still have your heels in your hand. You can just go out the escape ladder from your window. You sneakily tiptoe towards the window, pushing aside a few bottles of purfume that were resting on a dresser to budge the lock.

However, it doesn’t take long for him to hear you and catch on to what you’re attempting. He is a specially trained operator, after all. He bursts open the door just as you crack the window, barrelling over to you without thinking to grab you by the waist. You release a squeal when he practically tosses your body onto the bed.

Not thinking again, clearly, because now you have an exit through the bedroom door. You make an attempt to scurry across the satin sheets of your bed, but he’s close behind. Another scream echoes into the room as he grips your bare ankle, pulling you back across the bed with ease before you can even think straight. Your heels go flying across the room as he manhandles your body and pulls you all the way to him.

“An adult woman trying to sneak out of her bedroom window?” he asks, mocking you while pressing his body between your thighs, putting weight over you so you can’t escape.

“An adult woman shouldn’t need to,” you correct him. He grabs both wrists, pinning them above your head and pushing himself closer to you. You feel all of him against you. His broad chest pressing into yours heaving from trying to catch your breath. His hard stomach over your body. His hips parting your thighs. Something hard presses against your panties. A shiver races through your body, heat following to fill every inch of skin. “Let. Me. Go.”

“Is my little flower going to behave if I do?” His tone mocks you with the question. You stare into his eyes, the only part of him you can actually see. He stares right into your own, not backing down. You don’t want to back down, either. You're burning hot with rage at the control he’s placed you under. You want to fight him, hit him, yell and scream at him. But your body… your body loves how weak it feels beneath him. You hate it. Hate how much he’s affecting you in the moment. Warmth swells between your thighs. You tremble beneath him. You feel so betrayed by both him and yourself.

“No,” you finally reply, clenching your jaw, narrowing your eyes. If looks could kill…

“Then I can do this all night, flower.” His tone darkens as he draws his face closer. So much closer. The closest to him you’ve been. Your breath catches in your throat. “As long as it takes for you to be a good girl.”

Your eyelids flutter. God, why was his voice suddenly going straight between your thighs? You shudder, knowing you would find your panties wet if you were to look. You’re so hot beneath him. You can’t stand it.

You lick your lips and beg your hips not to roll against him. “Let me go,” you repeat.

He raises a brow beneath that damn mask of his. “Are you going to try to run from me again?”

You know there’s no use fighting him. He’s bigger, stronger, and tougher than you. He made that clear. You don’t want to give in to him. You want to tough this out just to see how long he can last, but you aren’t convinced your body will agree the longer you lay in this position with him.

“Getting all dolled up to go make a boy jealous, huh?” he begins to taunt you again, just to see you worked up. It’s what the two of you do best.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You push yourself against him, your hips bucking into his as you try to yank your hands away from his grip. He only presses into your harder, and you realize yes, he is definitely affected by the position the same way you are. He’s thick and hard and you feel it between your thighs. The fact has you burning up. His body wants you, too, even if his words are vicious.

“You deserve better than to chase some dickhead that can’t see what he has right in front of him.” If you weren’t so angry at him, you would almost be touched. All you see is red in the moment, however. You want to fight him. You want him to feel bad… if his cold heart even can.

“Like you would know,” you spit back. “I’m just a mission to you, remember?”

“I told you I didn’t mean that.”

“Really? You’re sure as hell acting like it.” You struggle again to get loose. He tightens his grip, leaning into your body so his mouth is right next to your ear.

“I have a mission to protect you, flower,” he begins, sending a chill down your spine as he speaks his dark, tempting words, “but believe me, if I didn’t, there’s not a single thing here I wouldn’t worship on you and I’d take nothing for granted. There’d be no mistake you belonged to me.”

With that, he finally releases your body from his hold. He stands straight, peering down at you as if his eyes are promising the things his words said. You quickly straighten out your dress over your thighs as you settle on your knees. For a moment, neither of you speak. Your breath is heavy. There’s tension in his body, tension filling the entire room.

You wait for his next move, not knowing what to do or say or even think. His words caught you off guard. You thought he hated you, and hated being around you. You were surely convinced you hated him in return, but with the way your body reacted, and now your heart drumming away in your chest over what he said, you aren’t sure. Did he really care about you? Did being so close to you have such an effect on him as well?

He says nothing, only turning toward your window to close and lock it in place, before walking toward your door. “Good night, little flower.” Before reaching the hall, he turns to look at you over his shoulder. “I trust you won’t be careless and try to sneak out again. I won’t let you off the hook so easily, next time.”

He leaves, and your body is hot all over again. His words which used to induce rage inside of you now begin to make you quiver. Could you just be taking them the wrong way? Does he really mean the hint of temptation you’re getting from each syllable?

You aren’t sure. All you can do is run to shut your bedroom door before he comes back to drive you crazy once again. Or before you do something stupid, like try to sneak out just to test him because you’re dying to see what he would actually do now. Your body begins to crave it, no matter how much you try to fight the feeling.

What started this all anyway? Finally you remember wanting to make Elijah jealous, but that seems so pointless now. Now all you can think about is what the big, strong Lieutenant would do if you disobeyed him. Something tells you he makes good on his promises, and your body aches at the thought.

Before you can let your thoughts become carried away, you take a hot shower to wash off your makeup and the mistakes you almost made. Maybe all you need is a good night’s sleep. You only hope you can stop thinking about how it felt having his body pressed against you.

***

After that night, you hate how quiet you are around him. Suddenly there’s tension, and not the rage-inducing kind you’ve grown used to. Anytime you look at him, you can’t help but to outline his muscles beneath the thin t-shirt, study his tattoos and veins along each arm, or wonder how good he is with his hands. He tries to ignore you stealing glances at him, not saying much to you, either. You decide it’s better than way. The other night was too risky. The two of you got too close, and it’s clear both of you were reacting in unfamiliar ways.

Later, Marjorie shows up with a team of a few people to bring a wardrobe for an event you’re scheduled to attend. A movie is premiering with your song as the main track on the soundtrack. You know you have to make an appearance, but lately you’re just not up for it, not wanting to explain why you have a masked man watching over your every move, as well as anyone that gets close to you.

“I don’t know, Marjorie,” you tell her, slipping on a glittery, purple dress with a low-cut V-neck and even lower cut in the back. The sleeves are long enough to reach your wrists, and you have to say it’s beautiful. You think you’ve found the one… if you wanted to actually attend. “I’m not up for premieres and parties.”

“Why not? Is it that scary man out there? Did he do something?” She lowers her glasses while narrowing her eyes. She gives an evil look toward the living room where you told him to wait after guiding the team to your bedroom.

“No,” you lie. It is because of him. And all the tension. And the fact that you don’t want anymore negative press about you. The breakup to a non-boyfriend was hard enough on your image. It’s all anyone wanted to talk about. Anything to get their quick clips and quotes for the news. Elijah absolutely embarrassed you.

Then you remember he will be at the event as well. You don’t want to face him now that you’ve had time to think about it. Trying to sneak out and make him jealous was stupid. He’s not worth it.

The grumpy brute was right about that.

“Then what’s the problem?” she asks, flipping through texts on your phone. “Oh, the designer needs to see you in a few photos and selfies if this is the dress you want to wear. Make sure to tag them on your pages.”

You sigh, leaving your bedroom to find where you left your phone to take a few “getting ready with me” selfies. Remembering you were reading more articles about your award nominations earlier while moping on the couch, you find it in the living room where he still sits, looking over documents in a folder spread over the coffee table.

“I feel overwhelmed lately, Marj.” You grab your phone from the couch next to him. “And I don’t know if I want this dress. It’s gorgeous but I don’t feel gorgeous in it.”

“You’re kidding!” she says, then surprisingly, turns to him to get his attention. “Tell her how good she looks!” As if she realizes her sudden bold behavior in talking to him, she withdraws behind you, pushing you closer so he can get a better look.

He scans over your body in the dress. His eyes linger over your chest for a moment, then travel to your hips, and finally your thighs. Then he makes his way back up, so slowly you’re almost dying inside. He’s not answering. Only taking in the sight of you in more sparkly, skin tight, revealing things.

“You look stunning, flower.” His voice is quiet, as if he only wanted you to hear his reply. It’s deep, too, another level of hidden emotions layered within the syllables and it makes your insides quiver.

From behind, Marjorie whispers, “he’s still calling you that?” Then she giggles, and you can’t help but to smile. Heat floods your cheeks. A few weeks ago you would have been annoyed, but now it seems so natural to hear the nickname.

“So, what event are we attending?” he asks, and you want to be annoyed that he will have to be with you, but somehow you can’t find yourself to be irritated. Maybe it’s better he’s there. He could intimidate anyone talking to you in case they want to pry about your relationship failures.

“A movie premiere tonight, then an after party. Are you wearing that?” You surprise him by not making a big deal of the situation. Looking over him, you realize his usual thin tees and military cargo pants with boots won’t cut it at this event. Regardless of his mask, he’ll stick out like a sore thumb.

“Want me to get dressed up for you, flower?” He raises a brow, knowing from his tone he’s smirking beneath the mask.

“Well, you have to be presentable if you’re going to attend with me.”

He nods, as if it’s another mission to him, quickly reaching for his phone to make a few calls. You can’t worry about what he’s doing, however, when you need to get into makeup and hair before the red carpet rolls out. Marjorie rushes you back to your room where the team starts with their brushes and blow dryers, getting you dressed in full glam within an hour and a half.

When you walk out of your room fully dolled up, you notice him waiting on you with a completely different outfit. Still dressed in all black, he adorns a turtleneck and slacks with his mask and boots. The sleeves are rolled up to show off his tattoos, and you’re sure he has weapons hidden somewhere on his body. Maybe those black, leather boots of his. Either way, you decide it’s not bad. You appreciate the attempt he’s made for you.

“You look nice, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you,” he replies in a quiet voice. “You look beautiful.”

Your heart skips a beat. You try to reason with yourself he’s just being nice, but the butterflies in your stomach wish for something more. For once, he’s actually being kind to you. It makes it so much harder to hate the situation you’re in.

“Are you ready to go?” you ask him as your assistant hands you your bag before helping with slipping on your matching heels.

He nods, holding out his arm for you to take. Smiling, you slip your hand around his bicep, resisting the urge to shudder from how hard his body is. It brings up memories from being so close to him a second before heat washes over your entire body.

How are you going to survive the night?

***

The movie premiere is less painful than you imagined. No one asks too many questions on the red carpet other than wanting to know who you were wearing that night. No one questions him, either, assuming he’s just another faceless bodyguard to the rich and famous. You’re thankful for that until you get to the afterparty. It’s not your scene, really, but you know you can make good connections with people in the industry. You mingle a bit with a few different crowds. Another pop artist here and there. Even some producers that worked on the soundtrack of the movie.

You feel a little more relaxed, even with the Lieutenant close by. He never gets in your way, and you appreciate the distance he’s giving you. Maybe it could have been like this the whole time, you think. After all, he just wanted to keep you safe. He’s not hovering over you, or making you uncomfortable. But you catch his eye every now and then. Knowing he’s close by actually comforts you.

The night carries on with you getting a few numbers in your phone with people you want to work with in the future. You make a few promises to get to the studio and record sometime soon, so happy you decided to come out.

Only until a familiar voice pulls your attention away from an intriguing conversation with another up and coming singer.

“What is it, Elijah?” You turn to face him, seeing the singer walk away from the corner of your eye. You hope she doesn’t think you’re rude. Maybe if you post the selfie with her you took, saying how sweet she was, she’ll forgive you.

“Don’t be like that, baby,” he says, words slurring a little. He’s tipsy. He’s always more affectionate when he’s tipsy. “I miss you.”

You frown. “Miss me? Didn’t seem like it with your arm around a model.”

“Oh, that was nothing, baby!” He waves a hand in the air dismissively.

“And when you said you didn’t like my music that much? What was that? You talked pretty quickly to the reporters. Most people didn't even know of our relationship.”

“Tabloids being tabloids! You can’t trust them.” He laughs, wrapping an arm around you to pull you closer. “Let me take you to grab a bite of food. We can catch up, talk this out, alright?”

You roll your eyes, ready to decline when a body presses into you from behind.

“It’s time to go,” the deep, raspy voice of the Lieutenant says. He’s speaking through his teeth. You nod your head, wanting to get away from Elijah and just go home. Your heels hurt and your social energy is completely spent for the night, anyway.

“I have to go, Elijah…”

You try to pull away from him, but Elijah tightens his grip on you. “Who’s this?” He grows defensive. As if he owns you. As if he didn’t break your heart just a few weeks ago.

“Elijah, let me go.”

“No, I want to know—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before the big soldier is stepping to him. “I would back up if I were you.”

“Are you really going to let this guy talk to me like that?” Elijah turns to you as you look between both men. The Lieutenant towers over Elijah, but he’s too tipsy to back down from a fight he obviously wouldn’t win.

“He’s in charge of me,” is all you say, and both men’s attention snap to you. “My safety, I mean. He’s in charge of my safety.” You gulp, heat rushing to your cheeks.

Elijah finally releases the grip he has on you. “Safety? Are you being stalked or something?”

Huffing, you turn to walk away from him. “If you ever cared to get to know me, Elijah, you would know why I need protection.” You can’t even believe you said the words. Never have you admitted that to anyone, but Elijah is pissing you off now. What did you ever see in this guy?

“Hey,” Elijah yells over the music, pride hurt over a sudden rejection he’s not used to. He reaches to grab your wrist, but before anyone can react, the Lieutenant lashes out to grip Elijah’s throat. It happens so fast, like a viper lashing out at prey.

“Touch her again, loverboy, and I promise you that hand will be wishing you hadn’t.”

You’re frozen seeing your almost ex-boyfriend get choked out, struggling to remove himself from such a strong grasp. Eventually, he’s released and you’re being shuffled out of the party before anymore eyes are on the three of you.

On the way home, you’re silent. Your body feels hot. Your head light. What did you just witness? The man next to you showing his power, and while it should scare you just how quickly he put Elijah in his place, your body can’t help but to react. You sneak a glance at him, but you aren’t sure why you’re suddenly so intimidated by him in the best ways. A gloved hand grips the wheel, the muscles on his arms tensing as he drives. He keeps his focus straight. You don’t know if he’s aware of you staring, but now you can’t look away.

His dark, lonely eyes are pinned in the lights ahead. A large, round shoulder hides the bottom of the mask he wears. His turtleneck hugs his chest and stomach tight. Pressing your thighs tight together, your gaze drops to his lap. You remember what it feels like to have him against you. You would be lying if you said you didn’t want to feel it again in the moment.

You’ve never wanted to admit how attracted to him you are, but there’s no denying it now. Not when you’ve seen how strong he is. How powerful. Intimidating, even. You can’t imagine all the dangerous men he’s helped your father take down.

Big, and strong, and quick… and thick. You have to scream at yourself to stop from imagining what he’d feel like inside of you. It’s not right. Between your thighs begs to differ, though. You feel the heat pooling there. You’re wet. You need him. Not want, need.

“Stare any harder, flower, and I’ll have to pull over.” His deep, raspy voice takes you by surprise and pulls your mind from all the naughty things you’ve been thinking. Blinking a few times, you shake your head to focus in on the present.

“P-Pull over?” You gulp, chest rising slowly and falling even slower. God, the things this man does to you.

“The way you’re lookin’ at me is distracting,” he admits. “Not safe for driving.”

“Oh, sorry…”

“Don’t apologize,” he says, turning his head to meet your eyes, “I never said I didn’t like it.”

***

As the days go on, you try to ignore the tension between the two of you. It’s hard to ignore how much your body craves him. What was once honest hatred of this man has turned into lust, and even scarier, you begin to actually care about him.

Whether it meant anything to him or not, he stuck up for you against Elijah. When the rest of the world wanted to gossip and get the latest scoop, he made it clear the only thing he cares about was protecting you.

You try to remember that’s just his mission. You’re a mission to him. Even though he said he didn’t mean it, the fact is true. You can’t let yourself get carried away in fantasies of being with him. It would never work.

You spend your time at home, having enough of being in the public eye. You continue to try to write songs to take your mind off of things. He lingers close by, and even with the tension between the two of you, you find his presence relaxing. You feel safe. Even if it’s not real, you feel protected and cared for. You can let yourself indulge in that feeling for at least a little while. No one has to know your delusions of wanting to be with him. You keep to yourself, minding your business and doing what you do best. Music.

The song writing goes on a little too long one afternoon, realizing you never had lunch or breakfast. When inspiration strikes…

“Are you hungry?” you ask him, realizing you don’t think you’ve ever seen him actually eat. You assume he gets a quick meal here and there when you’re busy with music related things. Your kitchen is stocked, so he has his choice of whatever he wants. Now you feel like take-out, however. “I’m going to order dinner.”

He looks up from another remote case he’s assisting with off-site. “Sure, I can eat.” He grins beneath the mask. You’ve gotten good at spotting it. It makes the butterflies in your stomach go wild.

“Can you even eat in the mask,” you ask, thumbing through your phone to place a quick delivery order for the two of you. You’re only half-joking, but you wonder why he wears it all the time, even when it’s just the two of you.

“I can do a lot of things in this mask, flower.” His tone darkens. A shiver courses through your body, flooding you with goosebumps. Gulping, you try to ignore the words. Just when you think you’re good at pushing away what you’re beginning to feel for him, he pulls you right back in. You wonder if he received some super secret training for that as well.

“Okay, food ordered,” you say, the words trembling from your tongue. He chuckles, enjoying the way he makes you so weak. You thought he only liked making you angry. You realize he just loves any reaction from you whatsoever. “But… really? Can you eat with the mask? Do you ever take it off?” Your voice isn’t full of venom like the first time you asked about it. You find yourself truly wanting to know him better.

“I take it off when I’m alone.”

“Why wear it all the time?” You sit next to him in the living room, scooting closer as he replies.

“To keep my identity a secret. It’s better for missions,” he responds nonchalantly. “No one really wants to know me, anyway, so why take it off? Not the real me, anyway. Just the soldier that follows commands and can kill without thinking. Nothing else matters when you’re in the middle of tracking down dangerous people.”

You take in what he says. It makes sense why there’s longing and loneliness in his eyes. No one knows the real him. Maybe no one has ever cared that he hides himself from the world, but you do.

“I feel the same,” you finally say, reaching to rest your hand on his arm, hoping he will feel your sincerity. With a sigh, you continue. “I mean, with wearing the mask and hiding yourself. It’s like as long as I do what I’m told, everyone is happy. No one cares how I feel. They hate when I want to make my mind up for myself. As if I’m a little girl that never knows what she wants for herself.”

“Well, we both know that’s not true,” he laughs. “You certainly know how to fight for what you want. You showed me that plenty of times.”

You giggle softly, not even thinking anything of it when he removes your hand to place it in his own, giving your palm a squeeze.

“Yeah, I… didn’t mean to be such a bitch to you,” you confess. “I was so angry at my father for deciding what’s best for me. I spent most of my life figuring things out on my own while he was busy with his job. Only for him to come in whenever he wants to say I’m not allowed to do this, or go there, or date this guy. I’m only here to be a burden to him and his career.” Your voice falls as you finish speaking. It’s a weight you’ve carried for so long knowing the one person you wanted most in the world to be proud of you never cared for your choices in life. He’s never taken an interest in your career, and everything you’ve accomplished, you’ve done on your own.

“I’m sorry, flower,” he sighs. “I… didn’t have the best childhood, either. My father wasn’t the nicest to my mother or me. It’s part of the mask thing, you know? Easier to hide myself than deal with no one wanting me around or getting in the way. I’ll leave before getting left.”

Guilt sinks into your heart. He’s felt that way since childhood, and you only furthered the idea by being pissed he was assigned to watch over you.

“I… want you around,” you reply quietly, intertwining your fingers with his gloved hand. He’s so protective of himself while you always wanted to be open and free. The realization hits you hard. The heaviness rises in your throat, burning with guilt for pushing him away so hard at the beginning. “I hope you can see that now.”

“I do, flower.”

Your heart melts in an instant. How could you have hated him for so long? You’re angry at yourself for not giving it a chance and getting to know him.

Before you can reply, there’s a knock on the door with your food delivery. Regretfully, you pull away to answer, grabbing the food and quickly getting back to him. While you’re placing the containers out in front of you on the coffee table, he sneakily pushes his mask up over his mouth and the tip of his nose. You see him out of the corner of your eye, glancing once then staring the second time while handing him his food.

You don’t say a word. All you can do is take in the sight of his mouth, his lips, the tip of his nose. His strong jaw. His smooth skin. You want to reach out and touch him but you’re scared he’ll retreat. You can’t pull your gaze away, taking in the sight of him because you know it’s something he doesn’t show often. Your heart swells, warmth filling your chest. He put so much trust in you to uncover a part of himself he’s kept hidden and secured for so long. You want to cherish the moment for as long as you can while the two of you enjoy dinner together.

***

It’s not often you do favors for people in the industry, but when one of the label execs asked for you to perform at a club his friend owns, you couldn’t turn him down. Not only because it would get you more exposure and in with a particular group of board members of award shows that were closely related, but because you simply love being on stage. The club is prestigious enough that it won’t be a rowdy, wild crowd, and who knows who else could be watching you that night?

Of course, your Lieutenant is close by as you hit the stage. He watches you closely, never taking his eyes off of you while you sing and dance for the crowd, as well as take a few shots to get them hyped up and in the mood. You’re working everyone over by the time the end of your set comes. The audience grows closer to the stage, making it more fun to interact with them.

Still, you keep your attention on him every now and then. He’s in the back of the crowd, but to the side of the stage. He’s laying low, dressed in all black, a hood over his head and his usual skull mask on his face. When the last song comes on, you can’t help locking eyes with him while you sing to the slow, sexy beat about being with a guy in secret. How good it will feel, how fun it would be if no one knew. Just the two of your bodies together even if it’s bad for both of you. He holds your gaze with an intense expression. You can’t look away from him, not for a second. You’re in a trance as your hips sway to the music around the microphone stand. You see him puff out his chest as the muscles in his body tense. He’s just as affected as you.

The set ends and the crowd cheers for you while you wave goodbye, remembering now that there is a crowd and it’s not just him and you in the room. You quickly run off stage to cool off in the back, and it doesn’t take long for him to find you in a lonely hallway.

The music echoes through the walls, but it’s more quiet as the DJ continues to spin top tracks from the charts. Your mind is spinning from the performance and the few shots you had while on stage. You’re not drunk, just a little tipsy, but it doesn’t stop you from running to him with a giddy smile. You’re nearly alone, with a few people passing by — workers clocking in and out, someone taking a selfie down the hall. The only one that matters, however, is him.

“Having fun?” you ask, though you know he’s probably not. You assume he’s not one for these kinds of crowds.

“You know how to work a crowd,” he says, making sure you know for a fact his eyes were on you the entire time.

“Of course, it’s my job!” You giggle. “And I love it. I love performing! I love dancing and I love when people watch me.”

By now, you’re nearly pressed against him. The alcohol is surging through your body. You feel so light. So happy. You decide you love being around him. He’s big and stupid and grumpy, but you love it. You can’t help but to keep giggling.

He stares at you with his head tilted to one side. You laugh even harder a moment before settling.

“Do you like watching me?” you ask, biting your lip after licking them.

He stares into your eyes. Those deep, lonely eyes of his. “I didn’t hate it.” He takes a step, pressing his body against you. You wrap your arms around his neck without thinking.

“Mm, I’ll take it, Lieutenant.” It’s one of the nicest things he’s said about your music. Of course you’re going to take any and all compliments from the cold-hearted soldier.

He cocks a brow while placing his gloved hands on your hips. “Oh, you’ll take it?”

Is that humor in his voice? Is he actually flirting this time and not just trying to rile you up? You giggle more, standing the toe of your heels to try to reach his mouth.

“Yes, I can take it,” you reply in a whisper, mouth so close to his mask. Your lidded eyes stare up at him, heart skipping a beat as heat washes over you.

“Are you sure, flower?” God, the things the nickname begins to do to you. It’s honestly sweet, if you think about it, and it makes you weak in the knees. It’s painful how much you want him. “Can you take me?”

You gulp, eyes fluttering as his hands begin to caress your hips. “I’m not the delicate little flower you think I am.” The space between you closes as he lowers his head. Your lips just barely brush against the mask. You want to feel him against you more than anything. “I can take all of it, Lieutenant.” Your tongue slips past your lips to ghost over the fabric, feeling the outline of his mouth. “Every. Inch.”

He growls, digging his fingers into your body. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

You could say the same. This man drives you wild. You don’t even care to hide it any longer. You want him and you want him to know.

A scream suddenly echoing throughout the front of the club breaks the spell you have on one another. His head jerks toward the noises past the hallway, suddenly on high alert as he blocks your body with his own from the door close by. In the other room, you hear a commotion, bodies shuffling, more screaming, fighting. You don’t have time to think.

He quickly grabs your arm to pull you farther into the back of the club. “Hurry!” he commands, and you have no chance to question him. He turns a corner and drags you along before stopping abruptly. Your body crashes into his back a second before you peek around him, spotting two masked men at the back exit of the club.

They don’t stand a chance before the soldier is on them. He grabs one in the middle of throwing a punch, twisting his arm with a kick to his knee, knocking him to the ground. The other man moves in, grabbing the Lieutenant by the waist, but is only met with a sharp knee to his stomach. The first man regains his balance, lunging toward him with all of his weight as the two tumble into the wall.

The second man moves past, aiming straight for you. You begin to back up, but he rushes to take hold of your hair in a tight fist. You scream, raising your hands to begin hitting him in the chest in an attempt to get out of his hold. You miss the shuffling of bodies straight ahead of you, the cry of pain, the thud as one of them hits the floor.

The man grabbing you is quickly snatched back, the Lieutenant coming into view. He takes the attacker by the arm, twisting it so far back you hear an actual snap of bones. He cries out in pain before slumping to the floor along with his partner.

“C’mon!” Your hand is taken and you’re led out of the club in a rush. Everything is going so fast. The world is spinning around you, heart racing, knees about to give out as you try to keep up with him on your way to the SUV. You feel so weak, so out of breath, and he quickly realizes that, turning to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder. He jogs the rest of the way while you hear the police sirens flooding the night’s air. Voices all around of people shuffling out of the club fill your ears. Your vision is blurry, going in and out and you aren’t sure if you’re going to pass out from being so overwhelmed.

Your body is thrown into the front seat and quickly a seatbelt rests over you. Blinking, you try to focus on anything to stabilize your vision. The vehicle is started. Tires screech as the two of you drive to safety.

“What… what happened?” Your voice is quiet, trembling. Just speaking the words make it harder to breathe. He doesn’t say a thing, only reaching for his phone in his pocket before tapping the screen a few times. “What’s going on?” you ask again. He gives you a look, but doesn’t say anything to you.

After a few silent seconds, someone picks up on the other end of the phone. You hear a deep voice, but you can’t make it out. “This is Lt. They’ve found her.”

Your eyes grow wide. “Who? Who found who?” You reach for him, squeezing his arm. He ignores you, speaking a few code names and keywords as usual. Things you don’t understand. Undercover special ops phrases, of course. Then he hangs up. “Please… answer me.”

“Those men back there work for the men your father is currently trying to capture.” He grunts, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “They were there for you.”

“What?” You lean back in your seat, sinking down while placing a hand on your head.

“What do you mean ‘what’? You knew this was a possibility the whole time! And I fucking let my guard down. You could have gotten hurt. Or worse…”

“No, I thought my father was just being stupidly overprotective as always!” The words spin in your head. It still hasn’t dawned on you. There’s no way you were actually being sought out as some sort of revenge for your father getting close to taking down a criminal.

“I don’t know how to tell you this delicately, but there are men out there willing to hurt you just to hurt your father.”

You’re speechless. You keep your head in your hands. You don’t know how to process this information. He says nothing else. Neither of you do the entire drive back to your home, other than him mumbling to himself that luckily you weren’t followed.

When you arrive home, you aren't even sure what to do with yourself. What can you do after you were attacked? Your body slumps to the door, right in the doorway, tears you've been fighting finally falling down your cheeks. Your body heaves in a sob, finally letting it all sink in. You were attacked. You could have been hurt, and there you were flirting and teasing him like nothing else mattered.

You were almost taken by dangerous men. You really did need protection. For so long, you've wanted to be independent and strong. For so long you thought you could live life on your own. Your father was right. You are just a sad, weak little girl.

You continue losing yourself until a strong arm wraps around your body to pick you up from the floor. He pulls you in without hesitation. Wraps your body up against him, carrying you to the bedroom. He sits on the bed, still holding you against him as you cry into his jacket.

"I'm sorry, flower," He whispers, stroking your hair. "I know you're scared, but you don't have to be as long as you're with me. I promise I'll be dead before anyone lays their hands on you. Trust me."

You do trust him. You believe every word. You feel it as if each syllable is wrapping gently around your heart to ease the pain. You want to feel embarrassed for breaking down in front of him. Normally you would, but you're so angry at yourself for not believing them in the first place. How could you be so naive? Not anymore. You won't put yourself in that position again.

"Will you… stay with me?" You ask, sniffling while pulling away from him. "Tonight? Please, I don't want to be alone."

His eyes scan your face for a moment. "I'd do anything for you."

Your chest swells. He really is so sweet. So kind. Caring. All the things you accused him of not being, he is. You want to stay with him not just now, but forever. You're not scared to admit it anymore. You're not scared at all as long as you have him.

"I need to take all this off. I feel gross." You both look down at your performance outfit and then you motion up to your makeup. You need to wash the night away. You don't care if it's stupid to feel this way. You need to get everything off. You can still feel a sting in the back of your hand where the man grabbed you.

He nods before you slip off his lap, then he follows you to the bathroom. At first he leans against the door frame with his arms folded, until you motion for him to get the zipper on the back of your dress. He does so delicately, zipping slowly down until your bare back is uncovered. You feel his gaze on you. You know he's taking it all in. Your heart races as warmth floods your body.

You don't know what's gotten into you, you just know you want him close. You need him now more than ever. You want to feel this safe all the time.

The dress falls to the floor, leaving you in thin, flimsy panties in black. You hear a sharp inhale from behind, feeling your insides shake from knowing how much of you he's seeing. Suddenly, his fingers are on your neck, gloved knuckles brushing over your flesh, down your back between your shoulders, but he stops when he gets to your pantyline.

"Will you sit here while I wash up?" you ask, but you know he will. You want him to feel needed, because you do need him. Your heart wants him just as much as your body.

"Of course, flower," he says, voice deep, dark, demanding of your body's attention.

"I love when you call me that," you admit. "I pretended to hate it, but it always gives me butterflies."

"I love calling you my little flower," He replies, a smile in the words. "I love calling you mine."

You turn around upon hearing that, giving him a full view of your exposed breasts, stomach, the little V between your legs. His gaze lowers, taking in every inch of your body you're willing to allow him to see.

You don't say anything, too surprised in his confession to speak. You only lower your panties to the ground, giving him another part of your body to soak in. He practically groans at the sight of you naked before him. Your nipples harden beneath his heavy gaze. Heat surges through you. Yet, you're not embarrassed or ashamed. You feel appreciated by his lonely eyes. He doesn't make a move on you, doesn't even mutter a word. Now you believe him when he said he would worship you. He's doing it with his eyes in the moment.

Finally, you turn from him to take your shower, letting it heat up a moment before you step past the glass door. He watches you the entire time, lathering up your body, washing your hair, allowing the water to drip down every inch of you into the drain. You feel his eyes focused the entire time, but it doesn't make you feel insecure. No man has ever looked at you the way he does. He has so much adoration in his eyes you feel like you'll burst. There's longing, passion, and need.

He has a towel ready for you as you step out, wrapping up your body in an instant. You appreciate the warmth he can offer, making you feel so safe in his arms. You dry yourself off with his help, letting the masked man take care of you.

You decide in the moment you don't care about anything else. You just want to be with him. You're falling in love, and there's no slowing down your heart. You don't want to try even if you could.

"Kiss me," you suddenly say, dropping the towel to the floor. "Please, you don't have to take the mask off completely. I know it's hard for you. Just… kiss me? Please?"

He stares down at you for a moment. The question sinks in. Your assurance about his own insecurities over exposing himself even more so. Then he pulls you close by one strong, tattooed arm behind your back. With ease he props you up on the bathroom sink before lifting the mask enough to show his mouth.

His lips find your own in seconds. The smooth, soft skin presses to your lips in a rush of need, desire, desperation. You melt into him in an instant, so entranced by this man you would do anything for him. You pull him closer by the collar of his jacket, wanting more, needing to deepen the kiss and receive all of him. Your tongues collide and moans fill the air. His body presses into you, feeling his hardened cock rub against your bare slit.

The feeling is electric. Warmth fills you from head to toe as he kisses you. Finally, you surrender to him, becoming weak before him, opening yourself up to him, giving him all of you.

He doesn't take the moment for granted. His mouth lowers from your lips to your neck, kissing every inch of flesh he can reach. You cry out for him not to stop, giving him access to every part of you he wants to kiss.

It doesn't take him long to drop to his knees. A gloved hand parts your thighs wide for him. He kisses your inner knee softly, trailing toward your pussy as you lean back to give him more access. You're on full display for him, hearing him groan from the sight of your awaiting folds needing his mouth.

"Jesus Christ, flower," He growls, placing both hands on the backs of your thighs to push your body back and hold you in place. "If I die right here, I'll still be the luckiest man in the world getting to worship this pretty cunt."

His words make you shiver. Never has a man spoken to you as such. Especially not one kneeling between your thighs. What he says goes straight to the pit of your stomach, swirling lower as the red hot heat of desire settles in.

"Please," you beg him, not an ounce of shame in your body as you reach for him, pulling him closer to where you need him most.

He urgently gives in to your every command, whimper, and plea, lowering his half-masked face until his tongue becomes buried between your folds. A gasp fills the bathroom as your fingers dig into the back of his head, feeling him slip his tongue down your slit, from your aching clit to your entrance dripping with need. He presses his mouth over the swollen bud, sucking lightly to have your head falling back, jaw going slack. Cries of his name spill from your lips in the process, overwhelmed within seconds of this man's pleasure you're receiving. You push against the hold he has on your thighs, but he's good at keeping you in place as you shiver around him.

He tends to your clit, massaging in delicate circles to have your walls tensing. “Oh—” Your voice is shaky, a long exhale following the word. “Oh my God…” You can’t help but you rock yourself against his motions. Your body comes alive due to his mouth against your flesh. Heat begins building in the pit of your stomach, pleasure coursing through your body.

He keeps his eyes on you from between your thighs. You look down in time to see his tongue lower to your entrance as he slips inside of you, tasting every last drop of arousal you offer him. You pull him closer, pressing your thighs against the sides of his face and his tongue delves deeper inside of you a moment before licking back up to your clit. The motion drives you wild. Your eyes screw shut. Head back. Gaping. He teases and sucks and licks until you’re trembling against his sturdy, strong palms pressing to your thighs.

“I’m… I’m getting… c-close…” You can’t help but to mutter. Your voice wavers with each syllable. Heat swarms between your thighs. The blissful coil tightens in the pit of your stomach.

“Come for me, flower,” he growls between your legs. “I want to taste it all.”

The words send you over the edge the moment his mouth is on you again. He massages your clit right as you begin barrelling over the edge of pleasure. Gasps and moans fill the bathroom, thighs squeezing around his head as you roll your hips against his motions. Shaking, you hold him close with a hand still pressed to his head, and he never lets up, using his tongue to extend the bliss all throughout your body until you can barely take anymore. Then he leaves open-mouthed kisses along your slit, tasting all of you just as he said.

Gently, you push him away with a heavy exhale. You can’t take anymore. Your entire body is trembling in the aftermath. He pulls his head away, looking up at you while licking his lips. Then he leans in to press a few kisses against the inside of your thigh, keeping his eyes on your own the entire time. As if he’s claiming your body belongs to him now. There’s no turning back, and you wouldn’t want to even if you could.

***

It doesn’t take long for your father to get word of what happened at the club.You expect him to appreciate the Lieutenant for getting you to safety without any harm to you. He saved your life while getting attacked by two men at the same time. He should be thanking him, but you instantly hear a cold, stern voice coming through the other line when he picks up his ringing phone. Your father begins to question what you were doing in such a large crowd in the first place, why you weren’t being supervised better when that was the Lieutenant’s mission.

It comes as a shock when you hear him ask why the Lieutenant has his hands on you in the back of the club. Your eyes grow wide. He says nothing to your father, only letting him rage through the phone. You trace your steps back to the previous night, knowing you were tipsy before you quickly sobered up when the attack happened. You only remember a few other people in the hallway with you… but you did see a flash go off.

Someone took a photo of the two of you while he was holding you, and it somehow got back to your father. Now he’s being reprimanded over the phone by the commander. Your heart sinks into your stomach.

When he hangs up the phone, he doesn’t look at you.

“What’s going on?” you ask, knowing it became quiet at the end of the conversation. “What did he say?”

He hesitates for a long moment, looking down at the floor as he hovers near the front door. His arms are crossed over his chest. He won’t look at you at all. That same defensive stance that used to drive you crazy has made its return.

“It’s not good, little flower,” he finally speaks. Your heart jumps. The last thing you wanted to do was get him in trouble. “I’ve been reassigned.”

“What?!” You jump up from your seat, rushing to him. “No… No! Reassigned to what? Who is going to protect me? It’s obvious I need it now more than ever.” Your heart races, chest so heavy it’s hard to breathe. You don’t want to be without him.

“Someone else will look after you.” His voice is quiet, defeated. He knows there’s nothing he can do. He can’t go against his commander. “They’re putting someone else on duty to take my place.”

“No!” You begin shaking your head, not accepting this news at all. There’s no way you can have anyone else. No one can protect you like he can. “No, there has to be something… I’ll call my father!”

“Not a good idea.” He still isn’t looking at you. You wonder how much shame would be in his eyes if he were to. “Your father saw us together at the club. I don’t know how it got back to him, but he saw us. He thinks I put your life in danger, and he’s right. I wasn’t focused on my mission. I can’t focus when I’m with you because all I want to do is touch you.”

The tears begin welling behind your lids as you listen to him. A lump forms in your throat, the breath nearly taken from your lungs as he speaks.

“So I’m back to being just a mission to you?”

He sighs, running a gloves hand over his face. “I don’t know what you expect me to say…” You can see his jaw clenching through the mask. “Two missions in a row I disobeyed orders. No one was supposed to touch you. Especially me.”

He confirms what you feared. You’re just another mission he’s failed.

“Don’t do this.” You gulp away the tears. You can’t be weak in front of him. You can’t let him break your heart like this. “You said you would never let anyone hurt me and you kept that promise. But right now? What you’re saying. You’re breaking my heart. After what happened…”

“It shouldn’t have happened!” His voice raises just enough for you to step back. Your eyes grow wide.

“You can’t possibly mean that.” Your voice is trembling. Your bottom lip quivers. It’s like you’ve been gutted with your heart ripped out all at once. Each breath you take feels like the last because you don’t know how he could say things he doesn’t mean. You know he doesn’t mean it. “You don’t have to be so cold.”

He laughs without any humor in his voice with a shake of his head. “Is that what you think?” His tone is suddenly harsh, bitter. “You’re naive if you think that. Being cold is how I survived for so long. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I should have never let my guard down last night. I should have never…”

His words fall. You know what he wants to say, even if he can’t bring himself to speak it. Your heart twists and shatters, the final nail in the coffin. He’s not just upset he’s being reassigned. He’s angry at himself for getting distracted, and he makes it clear being with you was a mistake.

He huffs and runs a hand over his face. “I should go. Someone will be here soon, you won’t be without protection for long.” He turns to leave, cold as ever.

You follow him, gathering up all the courage inside yourself. You don’t want him to leave. “You’ll regret this!”

He pauses at the door, hand already on the handle. He doesn’t look at you. Not even a glance over his shoulder. “I already do, flower.”

Then he’s gone.

***

Two men are sent to watch over you that night. Your father’s orders. Maybe he sent two this time so they could keep an eye on each other. It doesn’t matter either way. They don’t speak much, and you don’t care to get to know them.

You miss him already.

You can’t even believe you fought so much with him at the beginning, then ended up falling for him. It’s so quiet now. You don’t have him to keep you calm anymore, and everything in your home feels so different. Off.

You hate it.

Their protection doesn’t last long, however. When the men attacked you at the club, it gave your father’s team leads where to find their criminal leader. Their urge to get to you only drew your father closer to them, and eventually their organization was taken down in a huge raid. You no longer needed protection and they were assigned somewhere else, leaving you alone.

You’re thankful of that, at least. Now you can get back to your life. You wonder how, when all you can think about is him, however. You wonder if he’s hurting the same way, missing you just as much.

“Just call him, honey,” Marjorie tells you one day, but you shake your head at her.

“He made it clear he doesn’t want to see me.”

She looks heartbroken enough for you and drops the subject.

Time passes but it’s not any easier. Not when you feel so strongly for the soldier. Not when you know he made a mistake. You don’t care what anyone says. What his orders are. What people expect of either of you. You both deserve happiness, and you’ve never felt calm and happiness like when you were with him.

Your father calls eventually, telling you the team is throwing a celebration in his honor and he would love for you to come. A few reporters will be attending as well. He’s even getting an award from top officials for taking down such a large criminal organization. The thought makes you even more bitter.

You attend the party taking place in the large meeting room turned ballroom of headquarters, however, but only because you hope you will see the Lieutenant there. Your father, other Lieutenants and Sergeants, as well as the staff that worked in the background, are there with their partners when you show up that same night to congratulate the Commander. Everyone is mingling, a little tipsy already, and you feel so out of place. You don’t know any of your father’s colleagues. Well, except one. You don’t see him anywhere, even though you’ve been keeping an eye out all night.

Just when you think you’ve given up, you spot him near the back at the bar, listening to someone ramble drunkenly in his ear. It doesn’t look like he’s even paying much attention. His eyes are on you. He spotted you first in the crowd, and when your gaze meets his own, your heart skips a beat.

Of course he’s wearing the mask. Even if it’s a formal celebration, he still hides from everyone here. You can’t look away from his stare. It’s like he’s inviting you in, but you remember his words. He doesn’t want to be with you.

Fuck that, you think. Yes he does. You make a move to go to him, but he’s standing to make his way out of the room. You quickly follow. You can’t let him get away so easily. Leaving the ballroom, you see him making a right into a long hallway. Carefully, considering you’re wearing heels, you chase after him as quickly as possible.

He’s about to enter a closed door when you call after him. He freezes for a moment, as if contemplating if he wants to turn around, then he proceeds through the door. As you walk closer, you see his name on a plaque outside, noting this must be his office. You don’t even knock before making your way inside.

His back is to you when you enter. The room is dark. Moonlight shines through two of the frosted over windows, illuminating the space just enough for you to see the outline of his face, his hair, and jaw. He’s not wearing his mask. He says nothing, and you’re nearly too out of breath from trying to keep up with him in heels. Instead, he reaches for a clear bottle of dark liquor, spinning the top before pouring a shot’s worth into a whiskey glass that was already laid out.

“Having fun at the party, flower?”

He still calls you that. Your heart leaps.

“No,” you tell him honestly. How could you when all you’ve been thinking about is how heartbroken you are.

He downs the drink in one go. “Oh? Maybe you should head home.” You know he wants the words to sound more bitter than he is. His voice is broken. Tired. Lonely. He does miss you. And this is clearly not his first drink of the night.

“I wanted to see you.” The words release in a tremble. You don’t want to be rejected again, but you know you have to try. “I… miss you. I tried so hard to be angry at you for leaving me, but honestly I just miss you. I wish I was angry, because it wouldn’t hurt as much as what you’re doing now.”

“You shouldn’t,” he replies sharply. “Waste of time to waste all that love you have inside of you on me. Don’t do it.”

“Don’t say that!” You step to him, bravely placing a hand on his shoulder from behind. He still won’t look at you. “I know you said you had to be cold to survive, but not with me. Don’t do that to me. You don’t have to find a method to survive with me when you can just live.”

He is silent for a moment. A long breath spills from his lips.

You continue, needing to get everything out that you’ve been feeling since he left. “You told me no one would ever hurt me, but you’re doing it now by trying to hide how you feel.”

“How can I possibly feel anything for you?” he snaps, catching you by surprise. You jerk your hand resting on his shoulder toward you. “Don’t…”

“Don’t what?” You gulp, trying not to cry once again.

“Don’t make me do this.” He pours another shot and downs it. “There’s no way we can be together. I don’t know what you expected, but people like me don’t know love like you do. I have a job to do. A dangerous one. I’m too fucked up and you’re not strong enough to deal with being with someone like me. And you’re the Commander’s daughter. You think that’s going to go over well with everyone?”

“I don’t give a fuck about everyone!” Now you’re the one snapping at him. His head jerks up, looking at you over his shoulder. You can make out the outline of his face in the moonlight. Even if he’s hurting you, you can’t help but to want to reach out and touch him. “If you’re scared then just say that, but don’t make this out to be like we’re not good enough for one another because I know you care deeply for me. After what we shared…”

“What? I made you come,” he interrupts, nonchalant and dismissive. “That’s all. I wonder what daddy Commander would think if he knew I ate your sweet little pussy. I bet I’d have a bullet in my head right now.”

“Fuck you!” You reach for him out of rage and hurt, pushing against his back, but he doesn’t even budge. You’re done listening to him. This is clearly not him when he’s like this, and you won’t let him disrespect you as if you didn’t share secrets you never told anyone else. “You know it was much more than that. You really are fucked up!”

You don’t mean the words as you turn on your heel to leave. You only want to hurt him like he’s hurting you. Just like when you first met. Just when you reach the door handle, you feel his arms wrap around your body, not even realizing he was making a move toward you. Your back presses to this chest as he holds you in place.

“Don’t fucking say that to me,” he growls in your ear. “You don’t want to go there with me, little flower, trust me.” His words are meant to be threatening, but you feel the pain within them. The anger isn’t directed at you, but the life he’s had to live.

“Stop calling me that and just tell me what’s wrong. Why are you being like this?” You don’t struggle to break free from his hold. You hate how much you’ve missed it. You wish you could be angry at him, but it feels too good to your body to feel his strong arms wrapped around you. There’s no use in fighting it.

“I don’t know what you expected, sweetheart. What? To fall in love and live happily ever after? With a fucked up special ops soldier like me? Always gone. Not knowing if I’ll come back alive or in a coffin.” His words twist around your heart, squeezing until you can hardly breathe. His voice is like ice in your ear. A shiver races down your spine.

“So you would rather be cold to me and not even try because you’re scared of getting hurt? Is that it?” You spit back. You’re not backing down from this fight. “You blame me and not being able to handle being with you, but it’s not me. You’re scared to open yourself up to me, still, even after what we shared. You’re scared of a future that hasn’t even happened yet, you won’t even try for a future we actually want. You’re scared of what everyone thinks, but not what the person that loves you thinks?”

His grip on your loosens just a bit. You’ve taken him by surprise. It’s clear he didn’t expect you to admit you love him, but you do. You’re in love with him, and you love him so much you’re willing to fight for him. Unlike everyone else in his past, you want him there, and you’ll die trying before letting him go so easily.

He sighs, dropping his head. His voice is trembling. Suddenly, you feel warm drops of salty tears hitting your shoulder. He’s crying. For you.

“I’m fucked up, flower.” His voice is cracked and broken. Your heart aches just hearing it. “I don’t deserve you.”

Your breath catches in your throat at his confession. His body relaxes behind you, his hands rubbing along your lower stomach, still holding you close. You melt into his touch, wanting nothing more than to comfort him, but you need him to release himself to you. Free himself of this burden that’s been weighing on him to make him feel so trapped in his own hurt.

“I don’t want to be cold to you,” he admits, exhaling slowly. “God, you’re the warmest thing I’ve ever had in my life. You melt my ice cold heart. That’s why I don’t feel good enough for you. I don’t want to dim your light with my darkness.

“Oh…” You sigh, turning around with warning. He falls to his knees in front of you. His face becomes buried in the silk of your dress, tears soaking into the material with his hands on your hips. For the first time, you run your fingers through his hair.

“I’ve never opened myself up to anyone. Not since childhood.. I don’t even know how, I think,” he continues, words muffled here and there from how close he is to you. He’s never gone into detail about his past, but you don’t want to imagine the horrors he’s seen to make him so shielded. “I’ve never wanted to show myself to anyone until I met you. I’ve never felt for anyone like I do you.”

You allow his words to sink in, feeling the big soldier surrender to you on his knees. “I want to see all of you,” you reply in a whisper. “I want you to be open with me. And I… well, I won’t let anyone hurt you, either. I promise.”

Upon hearing your words, he finally looks up at you to meet your eyes. For the first time, he shows you his face. He shows you all of him. You take it all in, studying the shape of his eyes, his nose, his lips. The curve of his jaw and even his hair. All the way down to his neck, you take in every inch and burn it to your memory.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” he confesses. “I’m so sorry, I never want to hurt you again. I never want to be so cruel to you. What we shared allowed me to do this now. Showing myself to you. It was important to me, and if you never want to see me again, I get it, but I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me, flower.”

You can’t help the tears that hit your cheek. “I want you, Lieutenant,” you tell him, and in your next breath, you say, “I love you. Don’t ever hide yourself again, okay?”

He blinks a few times, those once lonely eyes filling with so much love for you. He says the words in return, staring up at you until he’s sure you forgive him. Then he stands, wrapping arms around you to pull you close and lift your body to guide you to his desk. He places you on top before his lips come down to meet your own. Taking you in a gentle kiss, you moan against his skin, feeling his body press between your legs. His hands wander anywhere he can reach, savoring you with his touch while his tongue slips against your own.

“What if—” you begin, breathless, whispering as his kisses fall to your neck, “—someone catches us in here?”

“Don’t care,” he growls. “I’ve missed you too fucking much. I want to show you how much I love you, flower.”

Your body shivers. Goosebumps flood your skin. You’re already so worked up, emotionally and physically. Your head is in a whirlwind of feelings while your body goes right back to craving him. Especially when he touches you as he does. His palms caressing your sides before dropping your thighs. Skin on skin makes you finally realize he’s not wearing his gloves. Heat floods you from the contact.

“Touch me,” you whisper, wrapping a hand around his head when he looks at you.

“Tell me where.”

“Here.” You take his hand, touching his skin for the first time as you guide his fingers between your thighs. He presses against your clothed slit, sending another pulse of warmth through your body. God, you’ve missed him. “Please…” you beg him, and he chuckles, kissing you again.

“You never have to beg me,” he teases, slipping your panties to one side to feel your pussy against his skin, “I’m so weak for you, flower, I’d do anything you asked.”

“Oh…” Your breath waivers. Body already trembling by the time he sinks a finger inside you, slowly, driving you wild. Then he adds another, burying the digits deep before pulling them away.

“So wet for me, already,” he says. “Remember when I said I would worship you? Remember when I made it clear there would be no doubt you were mine?”

How could you forget? You remember that night pinned to your bed. His big body on top of you. You were so mad at him you wanted to fight him. “Yes,” you exhale.

“You’re mine, flower,” he growls against your ear, pumping his fingers inside of you, curling them to make you quiver. Your thighs tighten around his hand as he begins massaging the spot that makes your toes curl in your heels. “Every inch of this beautiful body is mine for me to do as I wish. I want to worship every part of you until you can no longer stand.”

Your head spins at his words and the way he’s fucking you with his fingers. Arousal drips to coat his flesh as the warmth swells from between your legs. You whimper his name while running your hands over his shoulders, trying to hold on to the last bit of your sanity. He drives you wild and all you can think of doing is giving in to him, giving all to him.

“Look at me,” he demands, running the fingers of his free hand along the base of your neck until he grabs a fistful of your hair. You meet his eyes in a gasp, not daring to look away from him for a second. His thumb rises to reach your clit, applying pressure to send you closer to the edge. Your chest heaves as the whimpers and cries spill out for him, so lost in his pleasure you don’t care about anyone or anything. “Just imagine when I fill you up with my cock, right here, flower. I’m going to fucking wreck you.”

You’re shaking against him, squeezing your thighs around him, face twisting in bliss. Your mouth remains open, every word a call of his name, a plea to continue, not to stop. You’re getting so close, but you try to push away your end because you don’t want the moment to be over with so quickly. You don’t care about the risk of getting caught. You don’t care about others finding out. You want to live in this moment, with his sinful tongue drawing out the delicious noises you’re making along with his fingers buried deep in your pussy.

“So… so close…” Your hips move with his motions. One hand falls to grip his wrist.

“Come for me,” he commands, “let me feel it, little flower.”

There’s no stopping the pleasure now. It builds with the anticipation of a hungry animal and crashes down around you like dangerous waves. Heat courses through you from between your thighs, the coil of pressure finally snapping to send your body into absolute bliss. You cry out one last time, sinking into his body as you ride out the pleasure against his hand. He holds you close, pulling your body to him and dropping his mouth to your lips. He kisses you through it all, taking it all in as you come undone around him, giving him the chance to show you what you mean to him.

Heavy breaths fill his office for a moment. He kisses you all over. Your lips. Your cheek. Your jaw and neck. He brings you back down just as gently, taking care of you like he promised he would. You’re completely spent. Exhausted from the fighting, worn out from his pleasure. But now there’s peace in your heart. There’s no more fighting, or longing, or hiding how you feel. You’re his, and he’s yours.

A sudden knock on the Lieutenant’s door brings the two of you back to reality in an instant. Before the door can be opened, you slip off the desk to straighten out your dress. He reaches for his mask you didn’t realize was laying right beside you behind the liquor bottle, tugging it over his head. His name is called from the other side a second before the door opens.

“The commander’s looking for you, Lieutenant,” the male voice says. You turn your back from the door, not wanting to be spotted by anyone alone in his office. “And his daughter. Have you seen… Oh!”

Clearly, the guy spotted you and him awkwardly standing in the middle of the room. You peek over your shoulder, realizing it’s just a Sergeant from your father’s team.

“We’ll be there soon, Serg.”

The Sergeant nods, looks between the two of you, then grins. “I’ll let ‘em know, Lt.”

When he leaves, you exhale a heavy breath. “Are you ready to do this?" You know once you walk out that door and return to the party with him, there's no hiding anything between the two of you. You have no choice, really, considering you both have been missing for a while. At least with an audience, your father can't kill you both.

He turns to you, giving you a quick, yet hesitant nod. "As long as you're right there with me." He grabs your hand and together you make your entrance.

Turns out, with an audience and being high off of the congratulations and awards for his bravery, your father isn't too upset. Not even shocked, really, when the two of you return after being gone. You tell him you'll talk later, explain everything, and that's good enough for him.

When he calls you the following day, he apologizes for being too hard on you. He also admits his work gets him so distracted from life, he can't think straight, clearly. When he's deep in a case, he sees nothing else but how to achieve a victory. He explains he overreacted when he found out about you and the Lieutenant at first. After all, your father trusts him, and knows he did everything right in protecting you. If that's someone you want in your life, then who is he to stop you from having your own happiness.

After the phone call, you're shocked to say the least. You feel like you don't even know the man you just spoke to. Maybe his work really does turn him into a cold-hearted soldier, but you're getting used to that fact now. He's still your father, and you know in the end, he only wants you to be safe and happy.

He still gives a stern warning to the Lieutenant when they see each other again. The commander promises if his daughter's heart is broken, there will be hell to pay. The Lieutenant is fine with the promises, realizing he got off much easier than expected. Now he sees he doesn't always have to refuse himself of what he wants, especially when it comes to loving you.

After meeting with your father, he makes his way to you in a hurry considering there’s still so much he has to make up for. You open your door to a bouquet of flowers, and the thought makes you giggle because you just can’t imagine him walking in and purchasing them.

“Is this your kind of humor?” you ask, thinking of the nickname you’ve grown to love.

“Flowers for my flower,” he says, peeking his head around the pink tulips in his hand. You take your gift and allow him inside, quickly finding a vase for them to put them on display in your living room before the two of you take a seat on your couch.

“How sweet.”

“And charming and kind?” he teases by asking, recalling your previous conversations at your label’s office building. You love that he can find a way to lighten the mood and make your past fights seem funny and ridiculous.

“Yes, that, too,” you tell him. Without hesitation, he pulls the mask from his face, laying it to the side. Your chest blossoms with warmth. You also love that he’s grown so comfortable with you. You can’t imagine having to hide yourself for most of your life just as a way to protect your heart. You feel so fortunate he trusts you. He’s still wearing his work uniform, but now there’s less weapons hidden here and there. You imagine he still has at least a knife sheathed somewhere on him. It wouldn’t be him if he didn’t. “How did it go today?”

“I think he wanted to be angry at me at first,” he says, recalling the meeting he had with your father as you scoot closer, resting your head on his shoulder. He instantly wraps an arm around you. You feel so warm in his embrace. The guy radiates heat, it’s hard not to feel so cozy. “Then he explained to me there’s nothing more important to him than your safety and happiness. As long as I can promise you’ll have that, he’s okay with it. I’m not being fired, or worse.”

You have to give your father credit for being reasonable.

“Well, I have that now,” you tell him, lifting your head to press your lips against his cheek. “Though, I was promised a certain thing you haven’t fulfilled, yet.”

He smirks. “What’s that?”

“Well,” you sigh, “you did say there would be a lot of worshiping and groveling and proving I’m yours.”

“Groveling?” He chuckles. “I said that?”

“In my head you did.” He laughs harder at your answer. “Also, you said you would ‘wreck me’ if I remember correctly. And you would do anything I asked, because you’re desperately in love with me.” You’re grinning as you tease him, but his expression falls. His gaze softens, eyes lowering and smile dropping from his face.

“Are you asking me, flower?” His eyes meet yours, tone suddenly darker, suddenly raspy and needy. “Are you asking me to wreck you?” His smirk returns.

You lean closer, a grin on your lips as you whisper in his ear. “I’m begging, Lieutenant.”

Without warning, he reaches to pull you into his lap. Your legs straddle his thighs as you sit on him, arms wrapping around his neck while his hands grip your ass. Not giving him another chance to speak, your lips crash into his mouth. You kiss him desperately as if you’re making up for the time spent apart. As your tongue caresses over his once slipping past his lips, his fingers pluck at the bottom of your shirt. It takes you a few seconds to register the feeling, but you quickly pull away once you do to remove the tee, along with your bra, leaving your bare breasts on display for him.

“Beautiful,” is all he says, reaching a gloved hand to caress your tits and making a moan escape your lips in the process. The feeling of the fabric against your hardened nipples makes you shiver. It’s enticing to watch him play with you in such ways, you allow him to thumb the aching bud before squeezing your breast in his hand.

“Feels so good,” you whisper to him, eyes closing. “I want you to touch me everywhere like that.” You know he realizes you mean with the gloves on when you hear a deep grunt from his chest.

“I plan to,” he informs you, both hands now caressing down your ribcage, to your hips to pull you closer. His mouth is instantly on your body, tongue easing over one nipple before kissing it gently, then doing the same to the other. You can’t help but to moan his name. He sucks on your flesh, taking his time to worship this moment and your body all the same. He kisses, licks, and sucks on your skin until the room starts spinning. You’re so worked up, feeling arousal soak into your panties as you roll your hips against him. You feel his hardened cock between your thighs when you do so, the friction making him groan against your skin.

“I want to feel you too,” you tell him, snapping back to reality and reaching for his thin, black t-shirt. He assists you in slipping it over his head, giving you a view of his chest for the first time. Running your hands down his body, you feel his skin against your own. He’s so warm to the touch, so hard, so manly. Your insides burn with desire.

“I want you,” you whisper while leaning closer, lips just barely touching his own. “I want you to fuck my mouth.”

A darkness casts over his eyes at your request, but you’re already working the belt to his pants. Then the button and zipper. He’s nearly bulging out of his boxer-briefs, and he helps you shove the clothing down his hips until a thick, hard and needy cock is on display for you to play with. He’s so much bigger than you were prepared for, but he feels so good against your skin when you take him in your hand. A deep groan builds in his chest from the contact.

“Be gentle with me, flower,” he warns, eyes lidded and his expression twisted with need. His voice is breathier than before. He’s already so worked up. “It’s so easy for someone like me to lose myself in someone like you.” You know his warning isn’t about being physical. You assume he hasn’t been intimate with many people in his life, especially when he’s so guarded. His words fall on your ears like a desperate plea to not toy with his emotions, but how could you when you’re so dangerously in love with him?

Without another word you drop to your knees before him. Your hand grips him at the base of his cock as your mouth draws near. You give him a gentle lick across the tip before kissing his skin. His body tenses in response, so you do it again. How is this big soldier so weak beneath your gaze right now? You have him under your spell as you take him in your mouth, stretching around him so it will fit.

He sucks in a breath and then growls his exhale, reaching for your hair to take in a fistful in his hand. You pump your hand a few times while playfully sucking on the tip just to see his reaction. His hips thrust softly, sending nearly another inch into your mouth.

“Fuck me, flower,” he groans, never taking his eyes off you. “Your mouth feels too fucking good.”

Warmth floods your body from the praise. You want to keep pleasing him. You decide it’s what he deserves and you love seeing him come apart from the bliss. You take him farther into your mouth, sucking him off to hear the groans and grunts he releases. Your hand plays with the shaft, taking care of everything that won’t fit in your mouth. He begins to slowly move his hips, fucking himself into your mouth just like you wanted. His grip on your hair tightens. He’s beginning to lose control.

Then you pull back to run your tongue along the base of his cock all the way to this tip. The motion is painfully slow, teasing him while making the moment last. His jaw clenches at the sight of you on your knees before him, wrapping your lips around his thick, needy cock once again to take as much as you can.

“Fuck, that’s my good girl,” he growls as he thrusts himself back into your mouth. “Take more of it, baby.”

The new affectionate nickname along with his praise has your panties soaked. You take more of him past your lips, eyes beginning to water as the breath catches in your throat. He continues to thrust in and out while you take it, body so hot and worked up you’re dying to feel it in your pussy, too. You squeeze your thighs together as you suck him off, allowing him to use your mouth as he wishes as he pushes your head lower.

“You like my cock in your mouth like this, flower?” he asks, the words released through clenched teeth. His voice is so shaky, so desperate that it fuels your desire even further. All you can do is moan in return as he hits the back of your throat. “Just wait until it’s in that pretty little cunt of yours, baby. I’m going to fuckin’ fill you up.”

You’re shivering as you listen to him speak, keeping your eyes on his face the entire time. He’s so lost in the moment, face twisted in pleasure, head falling back with deep groans filling his throat. His chest tightens along with the muscles of his stomach, strong arms flexing as he brings your head down, then back up.

But he knows he won’t last much longer with your lips around his cock. He gently pulls you away from him with a heavy sigh, taking in the sight of you with tears welling in your eyelids, lips swollen, and gasping for breath. Then he pulls you closer, making quick work of the jean shorts and panties you wear, slipping them to your ankles a second before he’s guiding your back to the couch. He’s between your thighs a moment later.

“Please,” you beg, pulling him close while raising your hips so your soaked slit meets his cock, still wet and messing from being in your mouth. “I need you.” You’re breathless as he pushes his pants lower, getting a better position between your legs before you feel the tip of his length press over your swollen clit.

“I told you,” he begins, lowering his cock to your entrance as he guides himself with a gloved hand, “you never have to beg me.” You feel the pressure of him beginning to enter you, his thick tip slipping between your folds as it stretches your pussy open.

“Fuck,” you gasp, back arching, nails digging into his shoulders. He freezes with heavy breaths spilling from his lips, but your grasp moves down his chest to his hips to pull him in. “Don’t stop,” you tell him with desperation. He continues easing inside of you, groaning when he feels you tightening around him. You screw your eyes shut as you adjust to his size, becoming so full of his cock in seconds. Your breaths deepen, listening to him groan as your warmth wraps around him.

“Tell me, flower,” he struggles to say between his teeth, “tell me to keep going. Tell me you want it.”

He’s so deep inside of you, your thighs are already shaking around him. You pull your knees closer to your chest, allowing him room to ground out inside of you, earning whimpers of his name, little pleas and cries to follow.

“Yes,” you tell him in a shaky tone, needing more of him, “I want it. I want you.”

He begins to move his hips, pulling out then pushing back in. He starts slow at first, feeling you quiver beneath him, listening to the breathy little noises you make. He loves it all. Loves watching you unfold in front of him.

“Feels so good,” he groans. “So perfect, and all for me.”

He snaps his hips into you, making you gasp before a moan fills the air. You scratch his sides, leaving marks along his skin as he does so, but it only makes him go wild. He grabs your wrists, quickly pinning them above your head before continuing to bury himself inside of your pussy.

“Remember the first time we were like this, flower?” His pace quickens, pushing his weight into your body to hit you deep within your walls. So deep you feel the pressure through your entire body, rolling your hips to meet the motions in return as you become greedy for pleasure. “When I had you like this on your bed? The way I wanted to fuck you right then and there was almost too much to bear. I was so fucking hard feeling you beneath me.”

His words send a surge of heat through your entire body. Goosebumps flood your skin, too breathless to even speak, but he’s getting off on it. He goes even faster, fucking you until you’re speechless. Every snap of his hips draws out another cry of his name, another plea to keep going. You’re dripping all over his cock and the way he fucks you, he deserves every drop. It’s almost too much to take, becoming overwhelmed from the pleasure, the way he speaks to you, how he keeps your hands above your head. He has complete control of your body, savoring the way it feels deep inside of your cunt.

You feel the pressure building, the bliss swirling between your thighs. His groans fill the air, mixing with your cries of pleasure. Neither of you will last much longer like this. You want one another too badly, your body has been craving his own it nearly hurts.

“Touch me,” you whimper, feeling him slow his pace into deep, long strokes of his cock within you. “So… close…”

In an instant, he releases his grip on you to take you by the hips. He urges your body to flip over before pulling you close from behind. Now your knees dig into cushions while he thrusts himself into you from behind. A gasp spills from your lips just as he wraps an arm around your body, bringing you closer while the other hand slips between your thighs. His fingers find your clit, feeling the material of the gloves against your skin to send your body into overload.

“Like this, baby?” he groans from behind, his mouth right next to your ear. You feel his heavy breaths against your neck. “Want me to wreck this pussy just like this?”

He buries himself into you from behind while tending to your clit. Your mind goes numb, his pace quick, yet he’s still deep inside of you. His ruthless thrusts from behind have the tears welling in your eyes once again. You’re shaking in his arms as he holds you up, heat filling every inch of your body until you begin to lose all control.

The bliss spills over without warning. All you can do is cry out as the waves of pleasure wash over your body, taking hold of every emotion while he continues fucking you from behind. He caresses your clit, the material of his gloves soaked in your juices just the same as his cock. You’re shivering from being overwhelmed with pleasure, walls tightening around him to make him groan and curse behind you.

Feeling you reach your own end has him losing all control. You’re so wet and messy, it feels too good to him as his head falls back and he groans praises. His grip on your body tightens before he spills inside of you, filling you up with his cum just as his pace begins to slow. Heavy breaths are shared in the pleasure to mix with moans and groans and curses. His cock twitches inside of you as you begin to come down, giving you every last drop of his release.

When the both of you finally collapse against the couch, you end up resting against his chest. One leg thrown over his. An arm around your body. You hear his quick heartbeat against your ear and he feels the softness of your skin as he holds you.

“I want you to know how much I love this,” you tell him breathlessly. Your eyes close, savoring the feel of being so safe and cozy. You can’t help but to think how far the two of you have come. You never imagined falling in love, but now you can’t imagine yourself any other way. Your heart swells for this man. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”

He chuckles. “It’s real, little flower.” He lifts his head and you do the same, softly kissing one another to cherish the feeling.

You’re his now. The ghost and the flower. One so hidden from the world, the other almost too delicate to touch. Except when you’re together, he can be free from the burden of a painful past, and you get to prove just how strong you are. A match made in heaven.

579 notes · View notes

floralifetime · 1 year

Text

Toruk Makto’s Sister

Warning: very bad writing, maybe some gramatical error (English is not my first language, so please be gentle), angst, death of a major charapter, grief, bad words.

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⚠️⚠️The sentence is not mine, credits go to the author⚠️⚠️

Chapter n.1 Goodbye Tommy, I love you.

"The pain suffered at your death is the price for having loved you so much in life"

I still can't believe it happened, Tommy my beloved older brother, is dead. He was treacherously killed by a thief who tried to steal his wallet, given my career in the military I shouldn't be so hurt by someone leaving, I mean, death happens every day from various causes, not all natural, but it's also true that you never really worry about something like this until it affects your loved ones. We were three, now we are only two. Too bad Jakey is on Earth, while I'm on Pandora, not exactly around the corner and so I find myself alone. "Y/N are you here? Can we come in?"

No, not really alone, there's my best friend Trudy and my pseudo-mentor, Grace. Yet since Tommy was killed I find it hard to even think about them, I love them both very much but I feel alienated, as if I see everything and everyone as a mere spectator, as if I don't really live. I hear the sound of the door opening and footsteps approaching my bunk, probably knowing me they didn't wait for permission. "Aww Y/N, it's terrible to lose a brother like this. I know." Trudy's voice acts as a switch and in an instant the blockage of my throat melts allowing me to cry all the tears I was trying to hold back to show myself strong in front of the others, to avoid their looks of compassion, their pity. I don't like to be pitied, both here in Pandora base and on Earth, it's just not for me, I've always wanted to be like my two brothers, my role models, my heroes, I think almost all younger sisters have this idea of their brothers, and I had mine. Tommy and Jake are my life and so are Trudy and Grace, I would give my life for them and here I am, mourning the death of someone I love so much and couldn't save. I who have always taken care of their wounds, be they physical or emotional, who have kept their confidences, who have brightened their days and lightened the weights on their shoulders, if they had any. I did everything I could to protect my brother after his injury and I only came here when I was sure Jakey would be okay, because that's how I've always wanted to do, who I've always wanted to be, who cares about those who love and who sacrifice themselves for them, desiring their happiness. And now what do I have left? Tommy's gone, treacherously killed by a bastard that if I ever find him, his life will be over. I should have helped him, I should have been there with him because I could defend myself with a respectable military career behind me. I should have been there, he died alone and even if I couldn't save him, at least I would have comforted him in his last moments and I didn't do that either. My screams, screams and moans fill the room and I only realize it when I notice Grace has buried her head between her shoulders, trying not to hear my cries of pain, I wish I could help but it's so much difficult. "I know it's not easy Y/N, and you're sick, I understand, but we need you." Grace's voice is calm and bordering on insensitive, the opposite of the storm of anger and pain that surges through me when I usually appreciate Grace's calmness, this time it drives me into a rage. This scares me, it's not like me to think so badly of Grace, this isn't me… Pain transforms you when it overwhelms you I suppose. I frown and start to argue, but Trudy is faster than me. "Don't you think losing a brother like this is hard enough in itself, without constantly reminding her of what is expected of her!?" Trudy is annoyed by Grace's rush to resume her studies and research, I know deep down that Grace doesn't want to be mean, but now is not the time. I need some time to process the pain, the mourning, but unfortunately I don't have this advantage, I don't have this time. "I'm sorry Grace, I don't think I'm in a position to resume my studies, my research or whatever you have in mind, I'm sorry." Trudy nods, running a hand down my back, while Grace just looks at me. "I didn't think someone with your career could have such a meltdown" Trudy hits the scientist, I don't even have the strength to do it anymore, I'm usually stronger than that, yet Tom's death drained me. "This was bad Grace you know Y/N is proud of her career and for good reason." I served in the military with Jakey as a sniper, then he was recognized as a perfect fit for the Avatar program due to my adaptable nature and my abilities outside strictly the sniper field due to my endless curiosity about everything, I love to read and inform me . I'm in Pandora training because, as a "prize of honor" during a particularly dangerous operation, I was given the opportunity to conduct training directly at Pandora's base. At first I was reluctant, I didn't want to separate from my brothers, I accepted only because Tommy threatened me that if I didn't do it he would be ashamed of me for the rest of his life. Ironic, huh? He didn't have long to live, apparently. I've been here ever since and only had a break when I learned of Jakey's injury, then I returned to Earth and then returned to the Avatar program when I had confirmation that my brother was handling himself, not a second ago. I ignored the health problems I might experience during these various planet-to-planet journeys, I didn't care what might happen to me, as long as Jakey knew he was loved and had someone by his side to help him, I would pay any price to help my brother and I would do it again, I have not regretted it and I never will. Only Grace and Trudy know that I have actually had various health problems that could have slowed my training were it not for my intelligence and willpower, Grace's words. "I know, and I also know you're right to be proud of yourself, I mean I didn't expect subjects accustomed to death to feel its effects so violently." I sighed, not looking into her eyes "What you're saying doesn't make sense, Grace. This is different and you know it too!" I answer. "What would be different, Y/N?" she replies her. "That he was and is my brother, maybe? It doesn't matter that I'm in the military, it doesn't mean a thing, when you lose someone dear, it really affects you despite the career you've decided to pursue. And you also know the reasons that prompted me towards a military career." Initially my career was to focus on the medical side of the military, which leaned more towards my personality, then after an attack that killed everyone but me, miraculously saved by the beams that protected me as the building I was in collapsed, I decided to totally change course and engage in combat, in some form. Grace raises an eyebrow and nods. "I guess what you're saying makes sense, Y/N. I'm sorry, maybe I should have paid more attention." "I definitely agree with you, Grace!" Trudy throws daggers at her with a look, even though I love them, I can't stand their fights right now. "Girls, I'm sorry but if you have to fight, please get out, I... I really don't have the strength, forgive me." Trudy and Grace look at me, my favorite thing about them is that they don't show pity, no compassion, they certainly feel it because they don't have stones for hearts, but they are discreet enough not to throw it in my face, which calms me down. They both just nod, while Trudy smiles sweetly, saying, "We're here for you, no matter what we say to each other, we're always here for you." Grace continues to nod at her words. "What did I do wrong? Why did Tommy die?! What did I do wrong, what did he do wrong to deserve this!? He wasn't a bad person, why kill him!?" I cry out of control, I feel like I will soon lose the calm in my voice. "He IS a bloody poor man, that's why he took him away from you." Trudy runs her hands down my back, trying to comfort me, to coax me into a calm that I don't have. "F-For what? For scraps of paper in the wallet?! Is it possible that printed paper is worth more than one life?!" I answer in kind, despite the choked voice that I find myself, the dry throat that itches as if I had swallowed a cactus whole. "Those pieces of paper have been making the world go round since they were invented Y/N, I know you're smarter than that, it's just the pain that speaks for you." Trudy rolls her eyes at Grace's apparent insensitivity, but she's like that, she's a scientist, she's normal to be skeptical and rational in every situation, "I don't think she would want to see you suffer so much, you know your brother loved your smile." Trudy speaks again as she takes my face and wipes my tears, delicate for her. "Trudy… Why did he die? I should have been there, what did I do wrong?" the doubt of having done something wrong, of being absent when I should have been present eats me up. "You didn't do anything wrong, you couldn't know it, he died because some motherfucker thought the card was worth more than your brother's life, but he never really quit T/N, he'll always stay." My favorite driver has been trying to sound reassuring, but he doesn't seem to be reassuring enough to calm me down. The strangled, moaning sound I make is unsettling, I don't even recognize it as my own voice, but that's the least of my problems as I finally wrap my arms around Trudy's neck, continuing to cry into her arms until I fall over I didn't even realize I was completely unconscious.

Tommy was cremated but I didn't even get to see him, just as I can't see Jakey until he comes here because another trip would compromise my health too much, already affected by the various trips previously made both by the fact that you have to be totally fit to deal with shifts like that, and I'm not. Adding insult to injury, I'm sure it will take longer to heal from the pain for this, if I could have seen him one last time I'm sure I could have healed sooner. I think it's cruel of life not to be able to see my brother one last time before he is finally cremated, Tommy has been destroyed and here I am, helpless, watching and not being able to do anything for him or for Jakey, it's like pour salt on an open wound.

It's torture and every time I think about it, I burst into uncontrolled crying and I have to stop whatever I'm doing, because the tears come down so copious that I'm blind, I cry so much that it seems impossible to stop, I only succeed when I have no more tears . It's suffocating, during the night I dream of our memories, during the day everything I do reminds me of him, everything I see in photos or read in books to complete my training makes me think of him and how much he loved to read and study with me, that intelligent glint in his eye every time he told me something he had read and learned, he had this amazing ability to draw you in and make you love whatever topic he was on, no matter what. I envied him for that, and I can't help but smile when I think back to our lessons together, when he corrected me with a demanding but gentle tone and a tug of hair. In everything I do I see him again and now more than ever I realize I look so much like him, I've never paid much attention to this aspect, I mean, I always had him in front of me I didn't need to think about these similarities, but now that I don't there is more these similarities haunt me as if they were ghosts. It's suffocating but the pain must be experienced completely and deeply to be truly overcome.

Despite everything I've resumed working next to Grace and spending a lot of my free time next to Trudy and her flying jewels, they distract me and help me, I thank them for their more or less visible but always present support. The pain of Tommy's disappearance is still there but I live with it, I have to live with it. Tommy won't come back, a thief took him away from me but he won't be able to steal my photos and memories, I keep them stored in a special casket, my heart, where they will remain as long as I live, safe.

Someone mentioned my brother Jakey coming here to Pandora to replace Tommy, I already knew about it and can't wait to see him, I miss him dearly, but I also wish I could see him again in better circumstances than these, Tommy's death is not the happiest reason to see Jakey again but maybe it's better than nothing because the letters we managed to exchange, with so much effort considering where we both are, weren't enough and still aren't enough.

So this was the first chapter, this is my first time writing to publish something, so please be kind.

@avatarbyamara I promised you, sorry if it's a bit slow but otherwise the first chapter would have been TOO long.

#tsu'tey x reader #Tsu'tey #Avatar #jake sully x sister reader

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cmtcahrule · 8 months

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No Words. Part 1.

For those of you who can't or won't watch.

Yes, we were living in Cayman the last three years. We went back to LA for the summer. And everywhere for the summer.

Island life has been grand…it’s just time to wrap it up and get back to reality.

It’s Swiss Family Robinson here.

But you have the LA itch? Yes, I have the LA itch.

We can always find any way to justify anything. Mom needs to go back and you guys are going to be happy wherever you are.

Oprah’s been my idol my whole life.

Modeling is so interesting. You don’t have an opinion or a voice. As with TV, you can drive it.

I never enjoyed doing the red carpets. I leave that type of journalism up to you.

Did you ever think you should be the person on the other side….like the person walking the carpet? Honestly when I was in college, there was an acting job that came through the modeling agency, but I have never wanted to be an actor. I don’t understand this. Why are we sitting in trailers for 12 hours when we could be really productive? It didn’t make sense for me to be distracted (by acting).

I thought I was going to wait to open the bakery until after I did The Today Show for 10 years. Thank God I did not wait until I was 55 or 60 to do it. Because you cannot pull 4-5 all nighters per week when you are that age.

I can contribute my television career and success to 30% talent and 70% bribery. I would go in and bomb an audition and come back with Monster Cookies and then I would get a call back because of the cookies.

In my 20s, when I wasn’t raging, I would come back home and bake dozens of cookies.

I am passionate about JIF peanut butter. I am passionate about Helmann’s Mayonnaise. We are not fucking around with these products. We have integrity.

We have been in talks to open up in LA. Talks to open up at The Grove. The Palisades Village. Maybe we will do that when I have more bandwidth some day but right now I am tapped out.

You are managing all of these businesses from afar? I mean I am on an airplane every few weeks.

I told my agent to give me anything except anything related to pop culture. Everyone is voodoo dolling you right now. That is the dream of so many girls and people wanted you to do it and you said no. Give me a war instead. I will volunteer to go cover a human rights foundation before I will go on a red carpet.

Did you meet your ex husband Armie in the industry from doing industry interviews? He was not even working at the time. He wanted to be an actor but he was not doing the things to be an actor.

Regarding Tyler: He would never hang out with me because he was with his best friend Armie.

We met through our mutual friend Tyler. It was love at first sight. For sure.

Regarding their meeting: It was good for Armie because he had to work for something.

Ambition is important. I know you want to do something so do something. Either go back to college or go to acting class. I am not interested in someone who is complacent.

I think it was hard for him at the time because I had a boyfriend who was very successful and doing a lot which is the hottest thing to me because I love ambition.

It was a good motivator. So you motivated him to get his ass up and work….as Kim Kardashian would say?

Since he was with you when you were opening up BB, was he supportive and was he helpful? Because he was so young, he probably had even less of an idea on what to do. He wasn’t the business man behind the operation to say the least.

I’ve always been an independent person who does what I want. If I am with somebody, that is how things are going to go. I do whatever I want when I want however I want.

youtube

#Youtube

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pleasantlycrazyworld · 2 years

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Friends to lovers???

Steve Harrington X reader

Italic is Steve’s thoughts

Summary: Steve loves Y/N. What is he going to do?

Steve was in love with Y/N. He has been for what felt like forever to him. He has never felt this way before, he was never this deeply in love with Nancy and definitely not with any of the girls he had been trying to date. You just were the one for him, he knew this for a fact. You smacked sense into him when he was at the height of his asshole career, you let him sleep at your house for months after Barb disappeared at his house during the party because you knew how much he hated being there alone now. You took care of him when he showed up at your house bloody and drugged with no questions asked...well some questions were asked but that’s not important. What is important is that Steve was in love with you but he could never tell you.

The only person who knows how he truly feels about you is Robin and he's shocked she hasn't slipped up and told everyone yet. Robin only found out when she came over to his house for a movie night and he forgot all about it, so she was greeted with the sight of Steve extremely drunk and babbling to the wall about how perfect you are and how you're the love of his life. Robin took pity on him, she knows how it feels to be in love with someone but not knowing if they feel the same way so she didn't tell anyone this secret, but she is so sure that you feel the same way so she keeps trying to convince Steve to finally tell you.

And maybe he should tell you.

Steve and Robin were at work and she was being persistent in getting him to confess. "Steve, what's the worst that can happen?" Steve looked at Robin like she grew an extra head. "What’s the worst that can happen!?! Um well, she could laugh at me, she could be disturbed, disgusted. She could want to never see me again. So many things can go wrong Robin!"

Robin pauses. Steve has had tangents before but never this intense. Now she sees how much he loves you. "You really love her, don't you?" Steve can feel his cheeks heat up, embarrassment or rage he couldn’t tell, but how could she not notice how much he loved Y/N? "Of course I love her. She's been my best friend for years. She's changed me for the better, she's helped me through so much. I mean she's an angel that I don't deserve in my life but for some reason, she chose to be friends with me and I can't just tell her this stuff. I cannot lose her Robin."

During his rant he doesn't seem to hear the door open., the bell ring, signifying a customer but Robin does. Robin glances behind Steve and her eyes widen. Softly slapping Steve's arm to signal him to shut up he just shoves her off and continues the rant. Robin is desperate to make Steve stop talking. Softly yelling "Dingus shut up!" Steve finally closes his mouth and his eyebrows furrow. "What Robin?"

Robin points behind him wildly and he rolls his eyes. What is so important that he can't finish his sentences? Turning around he's faced with you. His jaw drops.

Oh shit.

“Y/N! How long have you been here?” Steve tries to be cool. This isn’t a big deal, maybe she just got here and I stopped talking in time. Yeah, that’s totally what happened! Oh don’t kid yourself look at her face, she’s blushing so hard she totally heard you, dude!

“Um.. been here for a few minutes now. Just stopped to pick up some movies for later.” Y/N explains but she can’t look at Steve. Oh god, she won’t even look at me! I totally just messed this up what am I supposed to do now?

Let me know if you want a part 2!

If you liked it please consider leaving comments, reblogging, and liking! It means the world <3

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve stranger things #steve harrington x plus size reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagines

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angeltreasure · 1 month

Note

I recognize that I may never find a husband, be blessed with a family, get to fulfil my hearts desire of being a mother, a wife, and a helpful hand to the church. I tell God every day that I understand that in the end, I only have him, and I try to feel his love throughout my days, count my blessings and find joy in solitude. Jesus is my only friend, and I try to talk to him like he’s beside me but I’m left feeling alone and useless. I’m pursuing a career while working full time. Every day I’m studying all night after work. I am deeply unhappy with the direction I’m headed in and I do not want to be a woman with a career, it goes against my heart. I don’t believe women should even work in the field that I’m going into but I can’t stop now, I became an adult so quickly and suddenly I’m running out of time and money to spend on school. I just wish God had planned something different for me- But how can I even say that? I don’t know if it’s selfish to ask for a prayer for some kind of consolation when I am truly so blessed and lucky to be so privileged. I don’t know what’s wrong with me and I just want to forget my ego and be able to dedicate all my energy to honouring God and inspiring others to do the same.

I’ll pray for you.

Today is the perfect day to ask for prayers like this, to say ‘Jesus, I need Your help’. Our human heart desires natural things as you have said, know that there is nothing wrong with those desires. Sometimes our peers our own age or others around us make it seem so simple (especially if we follow blogs we love on social media which depict the exact dream life we want), so easy, that we wonder, ‘why am I not a mother yet? Why am I down this path? Doesn’t God care for me or even hear me? What am I doing wrong, what is wrong with me?’ There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. God isn’t just tolerating you because you are working hard and searching for things. He loves you, even when your sins nailed Him to the cross. There is nothing that will stop God from loving you, even if you were the worst sinner. God has a plan for you. It may not be tonight, or tomorrow, or next week, maybe not for years, but we have to be like Jesus and say God not my will but Your will be done. In the mean time, recognize in the present moment you already are a spiritual mother when you care for your family, friends, coworkers, people you pray for, the homeless, the abandoned. You are a wife because you are a child of God, the bride is the Church, you are fearfully and wonderfully made, knit by God when you were in your mother’s womb. You can be a helping hand to your church and surrounding churches when you are present at Mass, when you give your time and volunteer, when you make sacrifices to help other church members and clergy to lead them to God. You can do the smallest of smallest jobs, right down to cleaning the altar cloths and fixing the pews after Mass, and all that helping you can offer up for souls in Purgatory. All that studying and working too, offer it up for Purgatory and, God willing, your future spouse modeled after the best of all: St. Joseph. The Divine Mercy Chaplet is the perfect prayer for you to try and remember this sentence: “Jesus, I trust in You”. Pray that sentence as many times as you need it. Even when you don’t understand what will happen tomorrow, Jesus I trust in You. When your heart is full of loneliness, open the door to Jesus who always knocks at the door to your heart, Jesus I trust in you. When you feel unworthy, banish that thought away saying Jesus, I trust in you. You are not selfish to ask for prayer. You are a child of God and our prayers move mountains. Don’t be so afraid that you cast your eyes on the storm and raging waves. Step out of the boat and keep your eyes on Jesus.

#prayer request #asks

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clatoera · 1 year

Text

Always Remember We’re Burned For Better: Chapter 1- Crimson Clover

Hey Guys!

I have been working on this au for a little while now. I had been pondering the concept of what would happen in the quell and the rebellion if there were younger careers involved. The story focuses on Cato and Clove, and then will add in others as the story progresses. I posted this here for convenience and it is posted to AO3 here -->

Always Remember We’re Burned for Better

Shoutout to @ms1818 who has been literally listening to me scream for days, has been my editor, my sounding boards, and has asked me the hard questions and asking those clarifying things the last few days especially, and @destroyed-by-clato who has listened to me literally ramble about little fun facts about this fic for days.

They were supposed to go in together. That had been the plan ever since they were twelve years old, back when their only true competition had been each other. That’s how it always had been though, really. The tiny little thing with knives, speed, and intensity that allowed her to take out all the girls who were older, bigger, or stronger, before she moved on to the boys with the same parameters. He himself was quite the opposite with a distinct strength and aggression that could incapacitate the boys twice his size. If there had been any.

They were a team. That’s how it had been, that’s how it was supposed to be. Train until they were seventeen and eighteen, and take the games in a way that their only competition would be each other.

What else had they prepared for? Thousands of hours over the years of one on one combat training that ended with her knees on his neck and a knife held to his face, or her pinned on her back with a hand on her throat.

The whispered exchanges of “It’s so easy to get you on your back for me, Cato,” (which always resulted with him flipping her like a ragdoll to pin her under him instead), and “No snide little comeback? I’m starting to think you like my hand on your neck a little too much baby-”(before she would slide out from under him and get a knife between his shoulder blades) started publicly around the time they were sixteen.

They were still the best. They were still lethal. So long as they were those things, no one batted an eye.

Afterall, neither of them were ones to openly break Academy policy. What’s harmless commentary between the best students?

A week before the 72nd Hunger Games, two weeks shy of her seventeenth birthday, the tributes for the year were chosen. Some girl that she had been consistently outperforming since she turned fifteen, and him.

Her partner.

Cato.

The knife leaves her hand to hit the dummy’s heart target with a particular aggression, one that lodges the blade so deep in it takes her hiking a leg up to use for leverage to pull it out. Clove seethes, the training room around her tinted red, and not the alluring crimson shade that would accompany the bloodshed at the cornucopia she should be preparing for. No, this is the brilliant scarlet hue of rage that she is all too familiar with.

A second throw lands in the neck of the target, paired with a frustrated yell of ‘Fuck,” into the otherwise empty training room.

Empty or so Clove thought, until around a pillar comes the voice of her favorite trainer, practically her personal mentor.

“Damn, bet if you lodged them all that deep it would’ve been your year.” Enobaria comments as she pulls the knife for Clove, offering it out to her by the handle. “You know you’re the best girl we got Clove, don’t take it personal.”

“Don’t take it personal? We’ve been training for this for years, Enobaria. Just for him to get picked over me? We were supposed to go together, that was the plan.” Clove punctuates “plan” with another bullseye hit, this one centered between the eyes of the target. “I know I’m the best! I’ve been the best since I was fifteen, and if I’m the best why am I not fucking going?” Clove’s anger manifests in her practice, but now her nails dig into the heel of her hand, drawing her own blood to make up from the lack of that from her opponents. “I should be there, too.”

Enobaria leans on one of the large foam blocks used to help the trainees learn to flip over their opponents, and gives what can be only be described a menacing smirk. “It’s not personal, Clove. You know that. It’s about strategy. Of course you and Cato are the best we have. That’s a given.” Enobaria nods her head to the side, signaling Clove to step to the side as she comes to stand on the target line before taking a toss with the blade herself. Not as precise as Clove, yet a fatal slice nonetheless. Once a victor, always a victor.

“Think about it. You are the best we have. But, only one of you get to come out of it. Why waste our best two in one year?” Enobaria holds a hand out to her mentee, wordlessly requesting another blade. Clove uncrosses one arm and gives it to her, but the scowl does not wear off the teenager’s face. “The girl— Astrid? Arson? Whatever— she’ll be a respectable competitor but she isn’t going to win. Cato is going to take it this year. It would be a waste of a Victor, with the two of you up against each other. He’ll win this year, then next year it’s yours. It’s already decided. You’re getting your shot, patience Clove.”

Clove is still standing with her arms crossed, but she now looks away from Enobaria in some combination of annoyance and pride. She’s still getting her chance, but now she has a countdown going in her mind to the 73rd games. Her male counterpart would be subpar compared to what she is used to, but hey, that’s just going to be canonfire to her ears in a year.

“Besides,” Enobaria pulls Clove from her thoughts with a hand on her upper arm. Razor sharp nails dig into the exposed flesh there, blood under the surface just begging to burst free if Enobaria grasps any deeper.“You know only one of you come out of there, right? You really want the two of you to have to choose which?” The accusation is whispered, low enough that if anyone else were in the center, or watching through one of many spectator corridors, no one would hear.

Clove yanks her arm away, using her other hand to cover the tender red skin that threatened to break under Enobaria’s grip. Clove does not dare wince at the pain.“What are you talking about, we always knew the way the games work. It’s what we signed up for, Enobaria.”

The victor smirks and leans in closer to her trainee’s ear, sure no one could dare hear her suggesting that she knows the things she does.“The Victor of the games lives out the rest of their lives. Think about what going up against each other would have meant you lived the rest of your life without.”

Clove’s neck flushes red in what could be embarrassment or anger, either of which are applicable feelings to Enobaria’s suggestion. She looks away, uncomfortable for whichever reason. She’s bred for the games, who has time to think about the after when you’re still training in the before. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ll manage fine as a victor.”

“You’ll thank me one day, Clove.”

They had both been training for this, so why on Reaping Day Clove felt particularly sick in her core she wasn’t sure. She definitely didn’t want to think too hard about where the feeling came from, either.

Standing in the pool of tributes to be reaped, the fingers of her right hand tied knots in a stray string on her skirt, a half-hearted attempt to keep her arms from crossing over her chest in a display of irritation. She didn't care to stop her eyes from rolling nearly to the back of her skull when the tall blonde girl ran to the stage in her little pink dress. Sweet and feminine would probably be her take in the games, if Clove had to guess. That strategy worked out well enough for that girl from one a few years back.. Glitter or whatever. That could never be Clove, who’s name alone sounded sharp like the knives she would wield next year.

She couldn't look away though, no matter how much she felt the urge to, when Cato sauntered onto that stage with all the arrogance he deserved. Of course, he looked every bit the part of a victor. Strong body under one of those well fitted suits of his, a smirk that said he knew he’d be back in a few short weeks with a crown on his head. He’d win. She was sure of it. Yet, she still wanted to cut that cocky smile right off of his face.

Three minutes is not enough time.

Not when they have danced around each other for years.

They stand a body length apart, her arms crossed over her chest, him just giving her a half smile. Neither speak, because the words they want to say cannot happen right now. They can’t happen right here.

Talking is not how they usually choose to spend their time alone together.

“Nice dress.” Cato throws out, and he reaches for the hem, fingers rubbing over the delicate white lace that had just covered her knees like he wants to imprint the pattern on his fingertips. “Wasn’t expecting the white, trying to go for Angelic?” It’s teasing, when he says it, but there's a wistful tone in his voice she doesn’t want to think too hard on.

“Don’t get used to it.” Clove snaps, and nearly regrets it. There's no time for him to get used to it, and maybe her deepest fear is that he will never get the chance. “ Black felt too funerary, and I’m not here to say bye to whatever the hell her name is.”

Clove tries her hardest not to look up at him, this boy who’s been the other half of her life for as long as it has mattered. She doesn’t want to see those blue eyes teasing her for worrying when she speaks. She definitely doesn’t want it to seem as if she doubts him either, when she tells him,“Don’t die, Cato.”

It’s as if he hears her thoughts (which, no surprise, they are always able to get into the other’s head, signs of a good partnership, and all), and his hand comes to grab her chin in his hand. He tilts her face up so she’s forced to look right at him, but he isn’t giving her the taunting little grin she expects. No, it’s as if he’s looking over her whole face for the first time… and maybe the last.

He does not tell her that he is trying to memorize the freckles across her nose as if they are constellations that will dot the night sky in the arena. He does not tell her that he is trying to memorize the exact shade of green in her eyes, so that he can find it on the leaves he will sleep under next week.

His thumb traces just for a minute on her cheek bone, and he smiles at her. ‘Wasn’t planning on it, baby.” He wants to lean down, he wants to tell her things that can’t be done justice in the minute they have left together. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

She hates herself a little, when she leans her face against his hand, when she nods her head just briefly in understanding. She sees what he says in his eyes, in the words he doesn’t allow himself to say, and she knows from the way his shoulders drop that he feels her agreement.

Unspoken communication. It’s what makes them perfect partners.

A knock on the door tells them they only have thirty seconds, and they move at the same time. She grabs him by the center of his shirt with one hand, the other around his shoulder, and pulls him against her. His hands encircle her waist and he lifts her up, letting her legs dangle a foot off the ground as he holds her. She feels so small, but not weak. He’s always had that effect on her.

“You better fucking come home.” Clove whispers, voice feeling smaller than she ever wants to feel again.

“I’m planning on it.” Cato promises, and if his lips graze her cheek they don’t mention it.

He puts her down just as the door opens, and she grabs his hand for a final time. He squeezes her hand in understanding. “See you soon.” Cato promises, and promises something else with the look in his eyes, before her hand drops and she is led away from him.

Cato looks down into the hands hers just slipped out of, and catches the flash of a silver C on a chain in his palm.

She took the days of his games to train harder.

The whole academy tends to gather to watch these things, sitting on the floor with classmates, watching each step of the games from the parade to the final canon and declaration of victor. Most of them dream of the praise and glory that they will never know, and for a select few they know their time to shine is coming. It’s been a great tradition in the academy for as long as the academy has existed. The premise was to show the prospects greatness, show them what they could be, and make them want to train harder.

It’s as close to a party as they get in training, a few days of rest and companionship with their fellow trainees. Most kids live for those days off.

Not Clove.

Clove trained.

For every comment on his training score, a perfect ten, of fucking course it’s a perfect fucking ten, the average depth of her knife increased a millimeter. For every sickening giggle from one of the girls her age over his cocky little interview, her throwing speed increased by a tenth of a second.

Next year is her year afterall, now isn’t the time to take it easy.

If her targets start resembling the tributes in the blood bath that's just a coincidence.

Her birthday falls in the middle of the games every year, the joke always being that she was born to be a tribute. The last few years they had developed a little tradition of sorts, her and Cato had.

At midnight they’d meet in the training room, which had cleared out hours ago for curfew. He’d bring one of those marshmallow cereal bars she had a secret sweet tooth for, and she’d act like it was a peace treaty and not an acknowledgement that he internalized this little fact about who she was beyond the girl with her knives.

They’d practice, of course they would. They were nothing if not dedicated to this career they chose. He’d dodge her knives and she’d dodge his arms, and if last year they ended up with her hands in his hair and his mouth on her neck that was between them and the training room floor.

It was different this year, though.

Clove sat alone in the center of the room, hands planted on the cement behind her and knees touching her chest. Her chin rests on top of her knees, eyes glued to the screen in front of her. She wouldn’t admit it to a single soul, but she can’t remember a time in the last few days where she had slept for more than an hour or two. She wasn’t going to miss a moment of his screen time, and when she got that nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach, she tossed a few knives at the nearest target. She was his partner, and even if they weren’t together, she had to have his back.

The games had been quick that year, all things considered. The arena was mostly rocks, a Mountainous terrain with not many places to hide. Sun must be a killer too, if the warm shade she noticed blooming around his neck was anything to go by. People went fast. Bloodbath took out about twelve, including one of the volunteers from one. Pity, the quality of careers these days. Within the following 48 hours they dropped like flies. Dehydration, sun poisoning. One from a nondescript snake bite. The girl from their district made it 28 hours exactly, until the District One Boy’s spear severed both her spine and the careers’ alliance.

Cato was a star, as anticipated.Most of the non-organic kills were his, and he certainly didn’t look like the elements were getting to him. If anything it was leaving him with a bronzed glow she knew would photograph well on his victory tour, where’d they’d paint him as this golden boy with the blonde hair and the blue eyes of one of those ancient gods from long before even the dark days. Like the God of War, perhaps, is the angle they would take him.

As midnight ticked by it comes down to the final two. Him and some sneaky boy from 8 who had survived through the sheer luck of hiding under the right rocks that didn’t also house the various venomous snakes. There was no chance they’d drag this out until morning, Clove knew that much from games past. And if the sun rising in the arena is any indication, she is right.

“Kill him, Cato.” She practically hisses to the screen, though her arms wrap around her legs and pull her body in tighter.

He’s already in the center, at the cornucopia, ready to take his title. Ready to come home. There had never been any competition for him, the trainers were right. It always would have been their fight in the end.

Her eyes can’t tear away from the screen when she hears the rumbling of earth on earth. A rockslide. That's how they’re going to send this kid right into the receiving end of a sword, then.

If she were there she’d already have him, she’s sure of it when she sees the desperate boy stumbling into the edge of the pebble studded clearing where the cornucopia sits. She’d have the knife buried along the center suture of his skull, barely even moving a muscle of her own.

Cato’s ready for a show, now though. This is the last moment between tribute and victor, and he’s been waiting for it his entire life. He goes limb by limb. Right Leg, Left arm, Left leg, Right Arm, until the boy is nothing left but a pale torso with little blood left inside to leak out. There’s a crazed look in those blue eyes she doesn’t want the camera to cut away from, because she knows his next and final move before he makes it.

Clove can hear his thoughts, because it’s her voice in there, telling him what she dreams of for her moment of glory.

“Right between the eyes, Cato,” She had purred when she poked her finger between his brows. “I want them to see my win coming.”

That was weeks ago, and now she watches the blade of a broadsword shatter two orbital bones into shards.

“About fucking time,” Clove says out loud this time, alone in the center anyway. “Thats how you fucking WIN! Fuck yeah, baby.” She kicks out her legs and realizes she is smiling. She’s excited for a win that is not even her own. The brutal, bloody ending of the games has her heart racing faster than it had even with her first hand to hand win all those years ago. She may not be a victor yet but this is as close as she’s ever felt, and she is certain she will be chasing this high until her win next year.

The canon declares him a winner seconds before the announcement does, and she is on her feet between the two. The sun catches something shining under all that blood on his neck, and she recognizes that silver chain tucked under the neckline of his shirt.

Clove is alone watching him win, but soon all of the academy would be awakened with the rest of the district to celebrate another victory. She knew around Panem there were thousands of people watching right now and yet, somehow, she felt like the knowledge of his success was shared only between the two of them. She can almost hear that antagonizing tone in his voice, telling her “Best Birthday Gift ever, right Clover” She would scowl and tell him not to call her that, but she’d answer to it anyway.

The screen goes to the capitol logo signifying the end, at least until the reruns by Caesar Flickerman were likely to start.

All at once the intensity of the week crashes down onto her. The dozens of hours of extra training, the eight or so hours of sleep she allowed herself to get, the three protein bars a day she ate in front of the training room projected tv. Most of all the adrenaline that had kept her body standing ceases as she realizes that he’s coming home. He’s coming home to her.

Her knees give out first as they hit the pavement, and she is sure that the bruises will be nothing compared to the pride she feels in this moment. She lowers her body slowly once her legs have given out, letting the exhaustion flood over her. Let them find her here. Let them know she saw his win, this was their moment even still. She falls asleep right there with a smile on her face she can only attribute to pride.

She is woken up as a seventeen year old and he is woken up as a Victor.

She was there at the platform when he arrived home. She stood a few feet away from his family, who always liked her for the competitive edge she offered their son in training, once they realized that this tiny teenage girl wasn’t holding him back from better prey of course. Now, especially, they see that her size was no hindrance in pushing him to the brink of greatness.

He catches her eyes first, the second the train door opens. He gives her just the slightest nod, and a smile quirks onto the corner of his lips, shared between them, just before someone Brutus holds his arm up in declaration of Victory and he soaks in the cheers of his district.

His family goes to him first, then friends from the academy. Groups of teen girls try to talk with him, then past victors pile on him to welcome him amongst their ranks. Clove resists the annoying urge to reach into her pocket and release the blade she had there, resists the want to at least slice the ponytails off of these girls' heads.

He was shown his new home in Victor Village, and received the key and tour ceremonially. He now lived directly across from Enobaria, to the left of Brutus. There's an empty home to the other side, which she had every intention to take as her own next year.

Cato showed up to the training center that night anyway, to invite her over for a tour of the place.

They barely made it through the door of the house before her legs wrapped around his waist and his hands were on the bare skin of her back.

She let him have her for the first time that night, so long as he kept the golden victor’s crown on his head.

“Cato..Cato wake up.” Clove groans, pushing his heavy arm off of her waist. “Cato get up.” She tries to roll out from under him but finds that his dead weight is much harder to maneuver than his active, fighting form. “Cato-” It’s a growl as she kicks him hard in the shin, which finally has him lifting his head.

“Huh? Clove, go to sleep.” He buries his face in the crook of her neck and her shoulder, and uses the arm she just escaped to pull her right back to lay under him.

“Some of us still have to train.” Clove points out as she sits her way up, sheet held around her chest by her forearms. “And I have to get back before training starts, so no one notices I was gone.” Clove searches the ground for the academy shirt she had worn over the night before, or any of the things she wore under it. She settles for his t shirt, and despite the fact that it reaches her thighs it will have to do. She has to change before training anyway, who’s going to notice?

“Practice here, I can show you a few things.” There’s a rasp in his voice that almost has her turn around, that may have convinced her to stay if she wasnt more dedicated than ever to her own successes ahead.

“I’m going to come by the center, I think. Help out. I’m still your partner, baby girl. I’d hate to see you not be able to follow in my footsteps.” He pulls her back by the arm and she end up flat on her back with her feet still planted on the ground, and he has his lips on her in seconds.

How she wants to stay here and soak this in, to crawl back in the prestige sheets that this bed comes equipped with. It would be so much simpler, but not at all her.

“Don’t you dare get me in trouble, Cato. No distractions, remember?”

“Awe, you’re distracted by me?” His lips skim the skin under her ear as he teases her. “We’ll have to train that out of you, won’t we?”

Clove pushes him away with an aggression that only he would understand as playful. She stands up and finds the running shorts she had worn over, and disregards the rest of the clothes she had come with. Oh well, it wasn't like she wouldn’t be back for them.

He’s got both his arms behind his head, the sheets just draped loosely over his hips as he watches her scurry around the room. He’s biting his lower lip in that aggravating, infuriating, alluring way as his eyes follow his room with the practiced focus of a hunter with prey.“Nice shirt.”

“Shut up.” Clove rolls her eyes, shoving her shoes on without socks, and slamming his bedroom door behind her before she practically runs down the stairs and out of his house.

Clove is lightly jogging into town. It’s not quite sunrise, and so she is trying to get the hell out of Victors Village and into the perimeter of the academy grounds before day break can come and someone could question her whereabouts or the dark marks on her collarbone.

The body appearing beside her, jogging as fast as she is, scares the hell out of her in a way that is not at all becoming of a future victor.

“What in the actual--”

“Have a good night there, Clove?” Enobaria practically growls at her, grabbing her arm and pulling her firmly out of her run. “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

They stop, and Enobaria forces her with a sharp jerk of her chin to look her in the eyes. “Don’t try to ignore me, what the fuck do you think you are doing. This is NOT ideal tribute behavior…fucking the newest victor like some moon eyed little school girl.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

Enobaria digs into Clove’s face, and the teen never once falters in her expression of disdain. “Do not play stupid with me, girl. A little advice, next time you’re doing the walk of shame, go out the back door.” She drops Clove’s face, but the look of rage does not leave Enobaria“What are you thinking? No. You’re clearly just not thinking at all, are you?”

“Enobaria i’m not just–”

“This is supposed to be your year, Clove. Listen to me. Do not throw it away. Do not throw this promise and this skill and all this hard work away over this boy.”

“I’m not throwing anything away, he’s still my Partner, he’s just going to train me–”

“Mmhmm. And that training better involves you getting sleep and rest and coming in better than ever.” Enobaria looks around them, making sure the always listening ears of the capitol were not within reach. She lowers her voice and pulls Clove into the tree line. “And that training better be done safely and with proper precautions. Do you understand? You aren’t making your own competition and taking it to twenty five tributes into that arena instead of twenty four, got it? I’m serious Clove, I can only help you so much and if you find yourself knock-”

“I’ve got it.” Clove snaps, looking uncomfortably over each of her shoulders, this conversation all too vulnerable and uncomfortable, and not at all one she wants to ever be having. “I’m not going to ruin my chance. It’s all I've ever wanted. I swear. I’m in it for the games. That's my priority.” She hopes and wishes her teacher believes her, because she isn't sure she can stomach any further educational lecture from her this morning.

Enobaria looks at her, and the look is clearly one of disbelief, but she lets it go for the time being. “And word to the wise, Clove. Wear your own fucking clothes home.”

And that's how it goes

Clove sneaks out of his house before training most days of the week, and he meets her at the center like nothing happened. Enobaria catches her on her walk over and slips little white pills into her hand at the same time every single morning, the consumption of them secret and complete before they step foot on academic grounds.

As far as the public is concerned, nothing has changed between them, except now he is a victor who is all the more invested in making sure his long term partner also has her moment of success.

She maintains her place at the top of the class, and channels some unknown tension into her training when he is gone for those couple weeks of his victory tour.

Clove never falters. Never fails a challenge. He trains her harder than ever, pushes her further, and no one bats an eye. What better way to train the next victor than using the last one?

He volunteers to mentor the 73rd games and everyone sees it as a great generosity, him taking over so soon.

Enobaria doesn’t even need to hear him say it to know his real motives in the offer. She knows that he does it to be within arms reach of this girl the moment she wins. He wants to be there to organize the sponsors, to spread the word of her gifts and skills to anyone with a checkbook to crack open. He wants to be there to be the first person to call her a victor, and rake in all the glory it bestows.

Cato ignores the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he watches the other half of his life long partnership climb the stage in her little black dress.

She is prouder than he’s ever seen her as she gives her name as the volunteer for the 73rd games.

She is shining and glowing and looking all the role of the victor she will be within weeks, and she is smiling right at him with nothing but confidence in those jade green eyes.

A year to the date of his departure, they take off on the same train.

They are a team, and they are going to come home from this the way they were always meant to.

Victors.

Together.

#the hunger games #hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games fanfic #cato #clove #cato and clove #clato #clato fanfiction #cato and clove fanfiction #always remember we're burned for better #the fanfic #thg #ARWBFB tag

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fordo-wifey · 10 months

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Greetings my lovely peeps!

Note: This profile contains NSFW content, with that means no minors under the age of eighteen.

It’s My Pleasure to Meet You!

I am Maggie and I am in my late twenties and heading into my thirties, I have been writing since I was fourteen and have since made it into a career of sorts. I am also a married woman that is generally happy with life and is hoping for a better life not only for myself but for people I consider my friends.

About The Blog:

This blog is a bit weird at the moment but the only solid thing about it, is the NSFW content that I have mentioned above. As all topics I choose to write about is basically for adult eyes only.

Fandoms I Write For:

Star Wars

Naruto/Boruto

BNHA/MHA

Red Hood

Tokyo Revengers

Original Works

Note: This list could grow or lessen depending on fandom cycle...

Request Guidelines:

I generally write original fan fiction, but I am open to writing requests! Though you should take this moment to go through my guidelines:

What I WILL Write For:

Fictional characters

Reader inserts (please make sure to specify gender, anything unspecified will be f!reader)

SFW and NSFW (Fluff, Smut, Angst)

What I WILL NOT Write For:

OCs

Forced Feeding

R*pe/Non-Con

Real people

Character/Reader Death

Coprophilia/Urophilia (Sh*t/P*ss Play)

Pedophilia/Ephebophilia

Cannibalism

Necrophilia

Bestiality

Depicting abuse in a positive light

Incest

Ships (canon or non-canon)

Please please PLEASE add your age in anon asks!

If you submit a request that involves anything from the second list, I will not reply to it. The same goes for any other requests that involve anything I’m uncomfortable with. If you have questions about why there wasn’t a reply for your request, please DM me.

Thank you and happy reading!

Check out: @daisies-daydreams

My AO3

My Star Wars Masterlist is under the cut.

->Shadows of the Republic

Starring: Wolffe x Original Female Character

The fall of the Republic, and the birth of the Empire, Wolffe—a former clone Commander—finds himself in limbo. Battling his demons, as he struggles to create a life worth living, but that’s when a chance meeting with Jaina Pellian, a human woman who had fallen into the same trap as him. Will his life be better with her? Or will he suffer a loss he can’t recover from? Word Count (Completed): 000,000

-> Forbidden Ecstasy

Starring: Neyo x Original Female Character

nothing yet Word Count (Completed): 000,000

-> Station 40 (Only on AO3)

Starring: Crosshair x Original Female Character

A SOS broadcast puts the Bad Batch in a tough situation, where they have to decide whether to save the clone troopers that were sent to investigate the same SOS or take in the scientist wanted by the Republic guards. Word count: 000,000

-> The Man of Ryloth

Starring: Captain Howzer x Original Female Character

The war raged on, battles hard fought, even with the battalion of clones that were led by Captain Howzer, there seemed to be no end in sight. At least until Lissa Amnel--a human woman-- arrived with support, allowing for more victories in their wake. But Howzer who had slept with nearly every Twi'lek he could, found himself changing with each attempt to gain her attention. Word count: 000,000

-> I Was Made for Lovin' You

Starring: ARC Hevy x Original Female Character

A quick hike gone wrong, leaves Diana Brown in a world of service and sacrifice, stumbling around the galaxy that was not her own. Far from Earth or anything she might know, but a chance meeting brings Diana and an ARC trooper together. But when it comes time to leave, will she choose to return, or will she stay? Word count: 000,000

-> Trouble in The Pine Series

Starring: Crosshair x Original Human Female

Book 1: Into the Unknown Elon, a green planet untouched by the war, and the former Republic—now Empire. A place for a man to start over, if that was possible for someone who didn’t have a say in regard to his birth. Will Crosshair, a man of regrets be able to move forward and start a new? Word count: 000,000 Book 2: Title Word Count 000,000 Overall Word Count: 000,000

-> Mr. Cupid

Starring: Mereel Skirata x Original Female Character

The playboy of the Skirata clan, Mereel Skirata, was the type to get any woman he wanted. From any walk of life. But that would be only a half truth, as the one he truly wanted was Sara Vene. A woman that worked closely with the Senators, and the Coruscant Guard. They met by chance, and the two were nearly inseparable until one night when the truth of his feelings came to light. Word count: 000,000

-> The Promise

Starring: Niner Skirata x Original Female Character

The word love didn’t match up with the likes of Niner, a clone commando that wasn’t known to show much of any emotion one way or another. But when he met Malia his heart bloomed with desire, and love. Though his appearance never changed, his words spilled all. Will Niner keep his promise to Malia, or will their love die out? Word count: 000,000

-> A Soldier's Heart

Starring: Commando Sev x Original Female Character

A soldier's duty is to protect those they love, and Sev was no different when it came to his new family which was steadily growing as years passed. Lingering thoughts of his brothers often cause him to grow quiet, but when the Empire arrives on the planet he calls home, he is met with the reality of the new galaxy. Word count: 000,000

-> Upside Down

Starring: ARC Captain Fordo x Original Female Character

The birth of his son had sent Fordo over the moon, becoming a parent meant he had more to fight for, more than just his brothers or even the woman that brought his son into the world. Word count: 000,000

-> Kiss Her You Fool

Starring: ARC Commander Alpha 17 x Original Female Character

Alpha was anything but kind, strong willed, effective soldier on the field but when Syala entered the picture. His heart took a hit, a hit that made him feel more than he ever had. Word count: 000,000

Commander Fox's love letter to Alax Halcorr

Dreaming of Her (Commander Neyo x OC)

Sinful Surrender Part 1 & Part 2

-Crosshair Western AU (sort of)

-Delta Squad headcanons

-The Bad Batch headcanons

-Delt Squad Parenting Styles headcanons

The Bad Batchers First Time Holding Their Newborn! (Fluff, Angst, and full of love)

If you want to be tagged, please like this pin post, and I will add you to future works!

#star wars #masterlist #the clone wars #original character #original content #original concept #fordo-wifey #bnha #red hood #tokyo revengers #naruto #boruto next generation

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joes-sha-la-la-la-girl · 4 months

Text

Love Bites: Chapter 3

Series Masterlist

After they left, Tammy let out a loud sigh, earning everyone’s attention.

“What?” Joe asked her as she kept her eyes on the exit where Y/N and Doug had just gone through.

Tammy didn’t answer to start with, prompting Johnny to jump in. “He’s always like this with Y/N. He doesn’t like her going anywhere without him.”

“Bloody hell.” Phil murmured under his breath as the rest of Def Leppard looked at them in shock.

“He’s also not exactly happy about Y/N working with you. Or us going on tour with you.” Tammy eventually spoke up.

“Why not. Surely if he is her boyfriend he wants what's best for her?” Sav asked.

“Well, you’d think, wouldn't you?” Benji muttered as he stared at his drink. He wasn’t a man of many words but when it came to his friends he would defend them to the end of the earth.

“So what’s his problem then?” Steve asked.

“Well, since Ultraviolet started receiving more attention he has been clinging to Y/N as if she is just gonna disappear. He hates the idea of her not spending time with him.” Tammy told them.

The conversation died down after that. Small chatter on plans for the upcoming tour took over but for Joe, the idea that Y/N was with someone who was controlling over her, wouldn’t leave his mind.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Sav told Joe the minute they entered the small house that they were renting whilst they were in London.

“Oh yeah. And what’s that?” Joe asked him as he looked his best friend in the eye.

Their conversation had attracted their bandmates' attention.

“You can’t go after her, Joe. No matter how bad her boyfriend is for her.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Joe told him, though the thought had crossed his mind more than once since he had met Doug.

“He’s right Joe, no matter how much of an arse he might seem.” Phil chimed in as he looked at the lead singer.

“I won’t do anything okay?” Joe looked around him before heading off to bed.

Sav watched his friend go before he sat on the sofa and looked at his bandmates.

“You know that this Doug isn’t good for her.” Rick pointed out as he sat next to Sav.

“I know but he can’t do or say anything. No matter what. We don’t know her well enough to get involved.” Sav responded.

“I just hope she knows that she deserves better.” Steve spoke sitting next to his terror twin. Despite the two not knowing each other for long, the guitarists had clicked the moment they were in the studio together, causing mayhem from the get-go.

“Did you have to cause such a scene?” Y/N asked Doug as they shut the front door to their flat.

“Me ‘cause a scene?” Doug asked her with rage brewing behind his eyes. “I only asked a question about your jobs.”

“You asked stupid questions about our jobs. You know why music videos have to be filmed so close together.” Y/N told him, an angry tone in her voice but she refused to raise it at him.

“You’re always pestering me to take more interest and then you get pissed when I do.”

“I shouldn't have to ‘pester’ you.” Y/N used finger air-quotes around the word pester. “You should just take an interest in what I love to do.”

“How can I when I don’t understand it? You are obsessed with the idea of running off around the world with a group of people I don’t know. You’d rather do this than get a real job to help me pay the bills.” Doug yelled at her.

“Wow. Look, I don't spend the money I do earn on myself. Everything I do earn goes into this place. It’s not frequent, which is why I save it and use it over time.” Y/N told him.

“All I’m saying is that if you have a real job then we wouldn’t be struggling for money this much.”

“How do you know that? Many people work ‘real’ jobs.” She used the air-quotes again. “And they still struggle to pay rent. I am working hard to build a career for myself that I love rather than working a dead-end nine-to-five job that I will be unhappy in for the rest of my life.”

“You think I love my job Y/N? I had dreams and aspirations too, the difference is, I am grown up enough to realise that dreams don’t come true.”

“Fuck you Doug. You don’t have to understand. You just have to support me. Not try to embarrass me infront of a band that I am about to tour with. A band that I am filming their music videos with. If dreams don’t come true then how come I am living mine?”

“That’s what this is about? You are embarrassed of me infront of all these men that you get to work with now?”

“That’s not what this is about. This is not about you. Def Leppard have invited me and the others to play with them in America. They have given me a chance to get my face out there. They are a big deal in America and I don’t want to screw up the chance that my band could be too.” Y/N took a deep breath as she looked at her boyfriend. The love that she had once felt for that man was long gone. “I’m going to bed.” She announced.

“We’re not done here Y/N.” Doug shouted after her but she ignored him.

This argument was one of many that they had. To start with Y/N had tried to explain to him about why this was all so important to her, but overtime she had enough of his selective hearing. She knew that she didn’t love him anymore but she didn’t know how to leave. She couldn’t face her bandmates who had warned her about him in the first place and she had no family around her anymore to help her out. She couldn’t afford to live on her own and she had been with Doug since she moved to London four years ago.

Y/n got herself ready for bed before she settled under the covers. She wasn’t sure if Doug would join her or sleep on the couch after their argument. She quietly hoped it was the latter but she knew in her heart he would probably come to bed eventually.

She was right. Within the next few hours, Doug had joined her in bed, smelling like alcohol. He didn’t try to cuddle her, he just collapsed on the bed and started snoring. Y/N laid awake for hours, for the first time since they left the pub, she let her mind wander to the green-eyed lead singer. How he was looking at her and how his face fell when he saw Doug walk up to her.

She couldn’t help the small smile that came across her face as she realised that maybe he was attracted to her too. She knew nothing could ever come of it but a selfish part of her dwelled on the thought that one day they potentially could be together, no matter how unrealistic it was.

#joe elliott x reader #joe elliott #def leppard #ellen's fic #love bites chapter 3 #love bites fic

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