#and then suddenly not-quite a week of Nothing besides work (while i also have the house to myself)

[sharas-bae]

realized that this week is the first one where i didn't have Something social going on basically since i recovered (even though i actually do have a thing tonight and tomorrow but at least there was a lull in there) and suddenly my disproportionately terrible crankiness makes a lot more sense.

like up till last week despite the ongoing toronto girl-related angst (truly i'm getting bored of myself in that department but oh well) i've been feeling pretty hopeful and motivated to make the kinds of changes that that whole situation and the covid thing inspired. and then all the wind left my sails at once.

i think i'm having something of an emotional adrenaline crash.

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Plus one 1/9

Summary : When Lando Norris realizes he's the only F1 driver attending the Monaco F1 movie premiere without a girlfriend, he panics and convinces Oscar to help him find a last-minute plus one.

Author note : I get this story idea after the private projection of the F1 movie with all the drivers in Monaco (also can we imagine they weren't wearing their team kit and actually did dress up).

Genre : pure fluff

Series masterlist

Main masterlist

Lando Norris had never minded being alone.

Not in the way that people always made it out to be, he wasn’t lonely, he just… liked his space. Relationships, for all their affection and comfort, always seemed like too much work for someone who barely had time to unpack his suitcase before flying off again. So no, he didn’t crave candlelit dinners or Sunday mornings entangled in sheets. He had freedom, and for the most part, he liked it.

But this week in Monaco, it hit differently.

The private screening of the much-hyped F1 movie was set for that evening: an exclusive, glitzy event organized as part of the Grand Prix weekend. Invitations had gone out to every driver on the grid, along with the sly note that "plus ones are welcome." Lando hadn’t thought much of it at first. He figured he’d just show up solo, shake a few hands, maybe take a few pictures, and go home. Simple.

That was until yesterday afternoon, when Carlos asked if they were all meeting beforehand.

"Sure," Lando had said, "you bringing anyone?"

Carlos grinned. "Rebecca, of course."

And that was the beginning of the end.

Oscar was bringing Lily. Charles mentioned Alexandra in passing, like it was obvious. George was already coordinating outfit colors with Carmen.

Lando had laughed, brushing it off with a "Well, someone’s got to be the mysterious bachelor," but the joke didn’t quite land.

Now, it was the morning of the event, and he was on a padel court near the port, sweating under the mid-May sun and trying to shake off the odd itch in his chest that had nothing to do with the heat.

He hated to admit it, but showing up alone tonight sounded... depressing. And for once, he didn’t want to be the guy arriving solo while everyone else walked in, hand-in-hand, whispering in each other's ears and giggling at inside jokes. He wanted someone next to him. Someone who looked at him like he belonged.

The ball thudded off the glass behind him. Match over.

He slung his racket onto the bench and tugged off his wristbands, then dropped onto the seat beside Oscar.

"You're coming with Lily tonight, yeah?" he asked, more casually than he felt.

Oscar shot him a look. "Yeah, of course. And you, you have a date?"

"Nah."

Oscar raised a brow. "Do you want to? Like, actually?"

Lando blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I could ask Lily. I’m sure one of her friends would say yes if I told her you needed a plus one."

Lando snorted. "What, like a matchmaking service?"

Oscar shrugged. "I’m just saying. Might be nice to show up with someone on your arm. Lily’s friends are cool. I could text her right now."

Lando hesitated, visibly squirming. "It’d be super awkward. I mean, if I don’t know her and she doesn’t know me? What would we even talk about?"

Oscar grinned. "That’s what small talk is for."

"And there’ll be cameras. A little much for a first meeting, don’t you think?"

Oscar laughed. "You’re the one acting all moody about being the only single guy tonight. I’m offering solutions."

Lando exhaled through his nose. "Maybe. I mean, just hypothetically. Who is this girl?"

Oscar grinned. "Hypothetically?"

"Yeah. Just tell me her name."

Oscar chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. “Her name’s Y/N. Actually, you’ll like her. She’s calm, which is good for you, keeps you from spiraling like a feral cat. Funny, too. And pretty. It could be a solid match.”

Lando sat back on the bench. “And you think she’d actually want to go? With me?”

Oscar’s tone turned teasing. “What, suddenly shy? I thought you were Mister Confidence.”

“Not when it’s someone I’ve never met. You know what, thanks for helping, but no. I’m good."

Oscar held up his hands in surrender. "Suit yourself. Just don’t sulk when we’re all paired up and you’re third-wheeling with the press."

Lando walked away with a grunt, heading toward the trailers to cool off.

Later back at his place, after his shower, he kept remembering Oscar proposition, then he took his phone and his thumb moved almost involuntarily to Instagram. Curiosity was a hell of a thing.

He looked into Lily’s followers and typed the name in the search bar. Only one profile popped up and it was a public one. Lucky him.

@your_usurname

"Sun-kissed, plant-blessed 🌸🌿"

❤️ liked by @oscarpiastri, @lilyzneimer, and 247 others

@lilyzneimer: stop being the main character every time we hang out it’s rude 😩💐

@your_usurname: someone had to do it. you were late 💅

@_user2: petition to ban you from looking this photogenic in real life too

@your_usurname: petition denied.

@oscarpiastri: my allergies make this my ultimate nightmare

@your_usurname: you're allergic to aesthetics??? @oscarpiastri: no pollen

@_user3: i love the cottage vibe

@_user4 : do you even know how soft your entire vibe is?? this is criminal 🌾

@your_usurname

"Busy life lately ☕️"

❤️ liked by @lilyzneimer, @_user5, and 403 others

@lilyzneimer: you seriously live in a movie

@your_usurname: only if you’re the soundtrack 💛

@_user7: how do you look good in every single vibe??

@your_usurname: camera magic and coffee 😌

@_user8: slide 2 made me instantly hungry

@your_usurname: I’ll make you some next time 👩🏻‍🍳

@_user9: this is the softest post I’ve seen all week 🫶

@_user6: this post feels like a warm hug and a quiet playlist

It wasn’t even ten minutes later that he called Oscar.

Oscar answered with a lazy, “Changed your mind already?”

"Just, maybe your right, maybe it could be nice to have someone with me for change. You really think she will accept to come ?" Lando ask nervously.

Oscar laughed. “Well we will see, let me text her. Be right back.”

And now Lando felt… nervous. Which was rare. He could race at 300 km/h and barely blink, but asking a stranger to be his date to a glamorous event with cameras and attention? Suddenly that felt like a lot.

What if she said yes and regretted it? What if she didn’t know anything about F1 and thought he was dull? What if he said something awkward and ruined the whole night?

His phone buzzed with a new message.

Oscar: She said yes.

Lando blinked.

Oscar: Well, she said “Sure, why not?” which is basically a yes. You’re welcome.

Lando’s stomach flipped. That was fast.

He stared at the screen for a moment, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

Lando: Wait… she really said yes?

Oscar: Yeah. Chill. Just don’t be weird about it.

Too late for that.

Permanent taglist : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @lilyofthevalley-09, @esw1012, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek, @actuallyazriel, @sofs16, @thulior, @sltwins, @knivesdoingcartwheels, @henna006, @stylesmoonlight12, @lilaissa, @sideboobrry11, @l3thal-l0lita, @lorena-mv33, @ispywlittleeye-blog, @lesliiieeeee, @sageskiesf1, @adynorris, @curlylando, @rebelliousneferut, @justcharlotte, @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies, @emneedshelp, @lando-505, @yukimaniac, @sashisuslover, @f1norris04, @hi26loveie

Let me know if you want to be add or removed from the taglist :)

[misstycloud]

Yandere cowboy x fem.reader

Yandere! Cowboy who’s the towns sweetheart. How can he not be? He helps every troubled soul he comes across, doesn’t matter who they are. He works hard every day to easy the load of providing for the family, he’s not a child anymore, of course he’ll do anything he can to help out! Besides, who wouldn’t fall for those muscles and pearly smile? You’d be crazy if you didn’t.

Yandere! Cowboy who you meet the first day of your ‘vacation’ to stay at your grandparents. Your parents though you’d been acting up the last weeks so they decided it was best to send you away for the summer, much to your dismay. Now you’d have to text your friends that you can’t hang out at all. Damn it. Being forced to stay in a in-the-middle-of-nowhere town definitely wasn’t your top priority. There was practically no service and nothing to do all summer. You’ll be bored out of your mind unless you manage to find something to entertain you. Luckily, there does appear to be something worthy of your attention- or rather, someone. It’ll certainly make things more interesting.

Yandere! Cowboy who you think is kinda cute, if not a little weird. He’s no doubt very different compared to the boys in the city- speaking in that special accent, wearing worn overalls, sweat at his forehead everytime you meet and practical thinking above all else. Still, you find yourself intrigued by his contrasting personality.

Yandere! Cowboy who is enchanted by you. You’re just so….wonderful. Funny enough, he also thinks you’re different, which interests him. Normally, he isn’t the type to brag and is quite humble, but he isn’t blind. He can see the way the girls in town drool over him. He knows he’s attractive. But you, you don’t fall over your feet whenever you gets a glimpse of him. You don’t stutter over every word while talking to him- in fact, you’re as cool as a cucumber. It almost seems like you’re flirting with him.

Yandere! Cowboy who notices you way your eyes sparkle when you speak of your interests. He starts thinking about the way you sound when laugh, how you pout when you’re frustrated and what you look like when you’re sad. It’s all beautiful. You are beautiful. Soon, it’s not only that he focuses on. Now, every time you’re walking ahead of him, he pays attention to the curve of your ass, how your hips sway when you walk, and suddenly he finds himself having to adjust his pants.

Yandere! Cowboy who you enter a special relationship with. You’re more than friends but less than actual lovers- that’s how you see it at least and you believed that’s what yan! Cowboy wanted, too. You two spend all your free time together in each others arms and going on cute dates around town and in the forest.

Yandere! Cowboy who wishes to marry you. You’re his perfect match! It must be fate that you ended up in their little town. He’d give you a big beautiful ring- he’s saved up quite a bit during his years of working, so he can easily afford it- and let you have whatever wedding you imagine. He’d make sure it’s exactly how you want it. Then, he’ll personally build you a house. Of course, before he starts working on that, he’ll need to know if you want a porch, what kind of shutter you want and what colour should the exterior be, would you like a fireplace?

Yandere! Cowboy who can’t believe it; you’re leaving? You say that summer is over and you don’t have to stay there with your grandparents anymore. You almost seem…relieved. No, that can’t be it. You love him! Right? Or was the connection he felt just one-sided?

“Sorry, you weren’t meant to catch feelings for me or anything. I just wanted to have fun, pass the time y’know.

“So I didn’t meant anything to you? Not even a little bit?…”

“I do like you. But I live in the city and my stay here was never going to be permanent. Like I said, I’m sorry it got a little too serious.”

“…….”

“Yeah, I gotta go now. I wish you well though, see ya.”

Yandere! Cowboy who spiraled after you left. You’ve dug yourself too deep in him. He can’t imagine going on about his life like you never existed. He thought you could be happy there, even if wasn’t like the big city you were used too, but that was clearly not the case.

If he had to uproot his life and move to be with you, then so be it. He wonders if you’ll be happy to see him again.

[cinder-stella]

Cater 2 u w/ Kento 18+ NSFW

(fluff, domestic, they have a baby, reader has a dumptruck)

You’ve been planning this for a week—not a grand gesture, not something loud. Just something quiet. Something that feels just like him.

Nanami’s birthday hasn’t been at the top of your to-do list lately. Not because you didn’t care. Because there just hasn’t been enough hours during the day. Between feedings and crying spells and diaper blowouts and your own recovery, there hasn’t been room for romance.

But tonight? You made room.

The candles flicker on the patio table, their glow soft and golden against the darkening sky. The baby monitor rests beside the wine bottle. You double check it—again—and smile when it stays silent. She’s finally asleep.

You’re wearing the silk robe he bought you before the baby came. It fits differently now—your hips wider, your chest fuller, the shape of your body softer. You’re still getting used to it, and he’s been nothing but kind with gentle praise in passing and affectionate touches when he’s home.

You wanted him to feel like your man again.

And you also wanted to feel like you again.

The door opens, and he steps in—suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up, tie undone around his neck. He stops when he sees the setup.

“What’s all this?” he asks, voice warm but touched with surprise.

You try to play it off. “Surprise?”

His eyes flick down your body and back up again. “You planned this for me?”

You smile. “Happy birthday, Kento.”

Nanami’s lips twitch in a rare, soft smile. He walks over and kisses your cheek—lingering, almost shy—and sits down. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

𖦹:･ﾟ⋆｡°⭒✩･:*:｡

Dinner is quiet. Intimate. You talk about work. The baby. Other little things that happened during the week. But there’s something simmering underneath. The way his eyes trace the neckline of your robe. The way your legs brush beneath the table. It’s been months since you last made time for this kind of intimacy. And you could feel it stretching between you now.

His hand finds your thigh beneath the tablecloth.

You look up. His eyes are darker now, slow with heat.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he murmurs.

You glance away instinctively. You’ve been wearing nothing but nursing bras and old T-shirts. Your hips have widened. Your chest is fuller. Everything about you feels different. Not bad—just not familiar yet.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I’m not saying it for you,” he replies. “I’m saying it because it’s true.”

His fingers trace a reverent line along your thigh. “Do you even know how stunning you are like this? After everything your body’s been through?”

You flush. Your skin prickles. And suddenly, you can’t quite breathe.

𖦹:･ﾟ⋆｡°⭒✩･:*:｡

Ten minutes later, you’re both in the jacuzzi.

You lean back against the edge while he settles beside you, his arms resting along the rim behind your shoulders.

The stars twinkle above the soft steam rising around you. It’s the first time in months you’ve been able to breathe without a baby monitor or a list in your head.

Nanami shifts beside you, head tilted slightly toward the sky.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he says.

“I wanted to,” you reply, reaching out to touch his wrist under the water. “You’ve been working so hard. I’ve barely seen you.”

His fingers turn to lace with yours.

“I know I’ve been tired lately,” he says. “Distant.”

“You’ve also been present,” you reply. “And trying. And mine.”

“You’ve been working harder,” he murmurs. “With less sleep.”

You smile. “Let’s not compare exhaustion. I just want you to enjoy this.”

His eyes close. A soft exhale. “I am.”

𖦹:･ﾟ⋆｡°⭒✩･:*:｡

Later, in your shared bedroom, it’s quiet.

The dim light from the patio filters in through the sheer curtains. You sit on the edge of the bed, toweling off your legs, robe slightly open at the front—and you feel him watching you.

You look up. He’s standing near the doorway, his gaze heavy on your figure.

You freeze.

“…Kento?”

He moves forward slowly, as if afraid you’ll vanish if he blinks.

“I can’t keep my eyes off of you,” he says, voice low.

Your breath catches and you feel heat flooding your face.

He kneels in front of you. Hands on your thighs.

“Your hips, your chest…” His thumbs trace upward. “Your ass.”

You giggle slightly. “I’m glad you noticed.”

“I always notice,” he says with a slight smirk. “It drives me crazy. You drive me crazy.”

You bite your lip. “Kento…”

He looks up. “Lie back.”

𖦹:･ﾟ⋆｡°⭒✩･:*:｡

He kisses slowly at first—down your chest, across your stomach, groaning into every new inch of skin. His hands are hungry, worshipful, gripping the fullness of your hips like he’s trying to memorize the shape.

When he finally sinks between your thighs, he moans against you, one hand fisting the sheet. He skillfully drags his tongue over you again and again until your legs are trembling and your hand grips his hair tight.

And when he finally presses inside you, slow, deep and trembling, he doesn’t even try to hold back the sound he makes.

“Oh my god…” His voice is low, cracked open with need. “You’re so—fuck, you’re perfect. You feel even better.”

It steals the breath from your lungs. Not just because of the stretch but the feeling of being filled by someone who knows your body, who’s memorized it, who loves it not in spite of how it’s changed but because it’s changed. Because it carried his daughter. Because it’s yours.

Your nails press into the sheets as he moves, slowly at first, like he’s trying not to come undone too quickly. Your body welcomes him greedily, walls clenching around him in a needy, involuntary rhythm. The heat builds fast. There’s tension coiled low in your belly, and each deep thrust pushes you closer to unraveling.

But what stuns you more than the pleasure is how seen you feel.

He touches you like he’s never been more in awe of you. Like this moment—this shared breath, this union of sweat and skin and moans—is the most sacred thing in the world. His hands stay on your hips, your back, your thighs—feeling everything, grounding both of you in the now. You can feel the need in him, the desperation to get closer, to bury himself deeper like he wants to fuse into you.

And you want that too.

To your surprise, Kento flips you onto your stomach. And when he catches sight of your ass—soft, full, arched for him—he loses all sense of restraint.

He slides back in with a low growl, one hand splayed over your lower back to keep you steady, the other gripping your waist. You gasp when he adjusts the angle, hitting a spot inside you that makes your whole body tremble. Your moans turn needy, near frantic. You glance over your shoulder, catching the slack-jawed look on his face as he rocks into you from behind—eyes half-lidded, flushed and utterly wrecked.

You feel him twitch deep inside you, feel his rhythm falter ever so slightly as he gets close. The way he grips your hips tightens, like he’s holding himself back. Still trying to be gentle, to savor.

Then you hear it—his voice, low and desperate,“You’re gonna ruin me…”

“Don’t hold back,” you whisper, breath catching on a moan. “It’s okay—Kento, I want it.”

His name falls from your lips, and he groans, loud and raw, like he’s barely holding on.

You push back into him, needy and shameless, and the sound of your soaked skin meeting echoes in the bedroom.

“Come on, baby,” you murmur, voice thick with heat. “You’ve been so good—just let go for me.”

His thrusts turn messy, desperate, and you can feel the way he gives in, every inch of him trembling. His breath stutters, low in his throat, and his pace grows ragged—his composure unraveling right in your hands.

Then, with a deep groan pressed against your shoulder, he buries himself to the hilt and spills inside you.

“Ah—fuck,” he chokes out, hips stuttering. “I’m—God—inside… I’m—”

You feel the rush of warmth fill you, his body jerking with every pulse, and you sigh—satisfied, breathless, clenching around him to draw it out.

“That’s it,” you whisper, dazed and sweet. “That’s it, love… just like that.”

He holds you through the aftershocks, his forehead resting between your shoulder blades, his chest heaving against your back. The weight of him above you, still inside you, makes you feel full in a way that has nothing to do with sex.

You feel cherished.

[blackcat-star]

Lost Spirit.

Sung Jinwoo x Ghost Reader

« Chapter 6 ✭Chapter 7: Jinah's teacher.

________________________

"Where are we going?"

"To the bank. I need to check the amount of money I have, then we'll go shopping a little."

The first place Jinwoo and his friend went after leaving the house was the bank. He was curious about the money he got from the mana stones.

'I don't have the time to check it.'

Jinwoo left the management of the magic cores to Jinho. The boy said that the magic stones after each raid were sold out, and the money earned was transferred to Jinwoo's account. But he didn't discuss the specific numbers.

'Jinho, this kid. Always reports everything clearly. It seems like he doesn't care much about money.'

Perhaps it was also due to his life circumstances, but Jinho rarely cared about financial matters. The topics of conversation only revolved around raids, celebrities, music, or movies. It was the kid who started the conversation, but Jinwoo just nodded silently.

'Hmm, that's strange...'

Recalling the times he heard the 'storyteller' Jinho confide, the kid had never talked about his family.

Before he could think more, Jinwoo was already standing in front of the bank.

'Such a day...'

Today, all the ATMs were under maintenance.

Jinwoo and you couldn't do anything else. He picked a number and sat there waiting. Meanwhile, you kept complaining about how he had interrupted your revenge.

"Really, if you had let me play a little longer, I could have earned some more money for me."

Jinwoo's face was blank. "Really? It looks like you're constantly losing. Besides, where would shadow soldiers get money from?"

You laughed innocently, "Aren't they your soldiers? The money came from your wallet. As a good master, shouldn't you pay for them?"

Jinwoo: >:0????

"Not that easy!"

Finally, after a 'not too long' time, he was able to go to the counter. "Hello!"

A clerk with short hair and a bright smile. She bowed to him and asked back. "How can I help you?"

"Could you please take a look for me?"

"Of course!"

The clerk took the notebook from Jinwoo's hand with a smile. He looked around the bank while waiting. Even though it was a weekend afternoon, there were still quite a few people coming to do transactions. Meanwhile, the bank clerk was extremely surprised when he looked through Jinwoo's notebook.

'Oh my god!'

[Account Balance: 1,482,920,000]

She carefully read it again, counting each zero, yes, it was definitely more than a billion. And this book was not a savings book. According to the transaction history, all the money was earned in the past week.

'He's so young, how could it be?'

Jinwoo was also surprised that he could earn so much money.

Meanwhile, you looked at the amount of money Jinwoo had, your smile gradually losing its humanity. 'Hehehehehehehe, he's rich! I heard the food in the mall is quite good.'  You rubbed your hands together briskly, clasped your hands and made it look like you were formulating some kind of plan or scheme.

Suddenly, Jinwoo feels an icy chill run down his spine, an unease that settles in his mind and grips him with an icy chill. He had a bad feeling about something, related to his money.

Jinwoo turned to you, seeing your eyes looking at the passbook as if it were a piece of premium Wagyu beef sprinkled with gold and a 'free' flag.

"Y/N," he leaned in, his voice wary, "what are you thinking?"

You smiled, sweet as honey. "Nooooooo~ thinking nothing~ I'm just admiring your hard work!"

Jinwoo narrowed his eyes. "The kind of admiration where you rub your hands together like you're about to buy a three-floor mansion?"

"You're wronging me!" You clasped your hands together, then muttered, "But, a mansion doesn't sound too bad..."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing!"

Jinwoo sighed, taking the passbook back from the clerk who was still reeling from the numbers. "Thank you."

"Ah, yes, yes...have a nice day!" The clerk bowed quickly, thinking to herself 'He must be a hunter! Only hunters can make much money like that!'

Leaving the bank, you walked beside Jinwoo, your heart still as light as the sky.

"Jinwoo," you began in a coaxing tone. "I want a bank account too.."

Jinwoo looked at you, doubtful. "For what?"

"So I can be independent! Financially independent! Have a place to...to...send my monthly salary!"

"You don't work?"

"You can pay me!" you said. "I can support you when you fight, I'll clean your house, and I'll be your roommate and emotional manager for the shadow soldiers. Doing three jobs at once, no pay is against the labor law!"

Jinwoo: "..."

You: ":)))"

"What kind of labor law is that?"

"Law....Shadow Associate! Makes sense right?"

"..."

"No."

"Come on-"

"No."

"You're really... stifling the dreams of youth!" you said sadly.

"You're an adult!"

"Oh no, I'm the one who died but half alive again... but I still don't have my ID card, so you have to raise me!"

Jinwoo: "............"

Why don't I leave you in the tree?

____________________________

After failing to seduce Jinwoo, you gave up on your 'dream'.

"Can I at least buy something to eat at the mall?"

"...Just a little."

You saluted. "Yes sir."

After withdrawing the money, Jinwoo took you to a nearby shopping mall. At first, he only intended to buy a formal suit to meet Jinah's teacher. But things took a different turn from the moment you entered the first store.

He didn't expect that after he got a haircut and bought a new suit, your eyes would suddenly light up dangerously, forgeting your purpose of eating.

"You look so handsome!"

"...Thanks?" Jinwoo was a bit doubtful, instinctively taking a step back.

"Come with me!" - you pulled Jinwoo's hand and rushed into the fashion store chain as if you had a speed buff.

"Wait a minute, we're just going to buy one outfit and then go to Jinah's parent-teacher meeting-"

"No, since we're here, we have to try everything on!"

And so...

30 minutes later, Jinwoo sat absent-mindedly on the bench, next to six different bags of stuff. Jinwoo looked at the pile of bags beside him and then looked up at you – who was busy choosing another long coat, your eyes shining like LED lights from inside. He sighed.

"We have to go to Jinah's school," Jinwoo muttered, but you didn't seem to hear him.

You turned around, holding the coat and trying it on Jinwoo, tilting your head in thought. "Hmm, it's kind of outdated. Right? For a parent-teacher conference, you've got to dress a bit more formal."

"But we don't have to try on, like, eight coats."

"Don't be so stingy," you nudged Jinwoo. "We're living in the age of images. If the teachers see you dressed sloppily, they'll think Jinah isn't well-groomed."

Jinwoo was silent. It made sense. But that reason made him wait for another twenty minutes, with a total of twelve bags.

Finally, when you decided you had enough clothes, the two of you decided to leave the mall. Jinwoo lazily threw all the bags into his storage.

You walked beside him, singing and whistling like a free spirit, occasionally turning to look at Jinwoo with sparkling eyes.

"Are we going somewhere tomorrow?"

"No."

"We can call it bonding time! Like teammates!"

"No."

"Come on~"

"...I think I should buy some noise-canceling headphones."

You laughed loudly, then nudged Jinwoo's arm. "Nevertheless, you will listen to my words."

Jinwoo shook his head but the smile in his eyes was not hidden.

"Alright, I'm going to see how long I can last."

____________________________

Jinwoo stopped in front of a store when he saw his new reflection in the mirror. It looked pretty good. 'At the least, it assures no negative impression would be made or left behind.'

He glanced at his wristwatch, saw that the hands were at 4:20.

'Jinah told me to be there at 5...'

There was still plenty of time.

There was no need to rush, Jinwoo and his friend hailed a taxi and leisurely headed to school. Jinah was waiting for him in front of the gate.

"Hey Jinah!"

The girl didn't notice Jinwoo approaching.

"Oppa?"

Jinah stared at him with a bewildered expression.

"Excuse me, where's my oppa Sung Jinwoo?"

"Don't tell me you don't recognize your oppa?"

Jinah looked him up and down again and exclaimed with undisguised surprise.

"You look completely different!"

"So you think I'm wearing a T-shirt and slippers to meet the homeroom teacher?"

"Wow..."

Jinah was surprised by her usual simple brother. Then she noticed you standing next to him.

"Who is this? Oppa, do you have a girlfriend?"

Jinwoo hit Jinah on the head. "This is Y/n, and she's not my girlfriend."

You happily went over and held Jinah's hand. "I'm Y/n, nice to meet you! I'm Jinwoo's associate, and for whatever reason, I'm crashing at your place for a little while. Hope that's cool with you!"

Jinah smiled happily. "It's okay, I'm happy to have another sister. Living with my brother is not fun at all."

Jinwoo rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm going in first."

The two of you ran after Jinwoo. He had studied here 5 years ago, so everything was already familiar. Jinwoo knew that the meeting would take place in the conference room, not the homeroom teacher's office. He walked in that direction. His pace increased as he walked.

"Oppa, wait for me!!!"

Jinah also hurriedly ran after her brother.

"Hello, teacher!"

"Oh, hello!"

On the way, Jinwoo and you bowed to each teacher. But everyone was quite surprised when they greeted him back.

'Who is that?'

'Is that a former student? I don't remember there being such a student in the school.'

'Is he a new teacher?'

And it wasn't just the teachers who turned their heads.

"Whoa...so handsome!!!"

"Who is he?"

"Why is Jinah walking next to him?"

"Who is the woman that walks beside him?"

'...'

The whispers rang out. Jinah felt extremely excited. She listened to everything with a proud expression, then nudged Jinwoo's side with her elbow.

"Oppa, look at how everyone admires you!!!"

"Jinwoo is so famous" you teased him.

But Jinwoo didn't seem to mind.

"But don't betray Y/n unnie, or I'll hit you!"

Jinwoo didn't let the little girl off this time, he pinched her cheek. "I told you, Y/n isn't my girlfriend."

"Ah, I'm sorry..."

Jinwoo let her go. Jinah rubbed her red cheeks. You giggled.

While walking and arguing, they arrived. Jinah turned around before pointing at the room.

"It's here, oppa, unnie..."

As she was about to enter, Jinwoo suddenly turned to her sister.

"What about you?"

"Only the guardians and teachers are talking to each other! My mission is over here, goodbye oppa and unnie."

You wondered, "I can come in too?"

Jinwoo nodded, "It's fine, I can't leave you outside anyway."

"I heard that Jinah's brother is a hunter, right?"

Her eyes became serious.

"Yes, teacher!"

"If Jinah goes through the awakening stage, do you want her to become a hunter?"

"Definitely not"

Never.

Jinwoo answered decisively, and definitely without thinking. As if he had known the question and had prepared the answer. Her face fell slightly.

"As I expected..."

The teacher was hesitating, and Jinwoo gave her a skeptical look.

"Do you mind if I ask you for a favor?"

________________________

To be continue.

_________________________

Chapter 8 »

________________________

tag: @weaponxgames @sky2lar @snowy-violet @joannthebish @fackeraccount @tanspostsblog @perkypeony @ssolarsystm @winter-soldier-101 @delusionillusion3322 @o-qi-shisme @soft-dots @snowlycanroc

(let me know if I forget to tag anyone)

Everything I write is fiction and for entertainment purposes, please don't take anything seriously

[tryingtofindava]

WLW CLOCKWORK FANFIC AND MY LIFE IS YOURRRRSSS. (Aftercare after manhandling you would be cute, but you use your imagination, also I love ur work)

── 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲, 𝐡𝐮𝐡…?

𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖

tw: Service top! Nat, sub! Reader, manhandling, strap (r! receiving), half assed aftercare, biting, slight plot? Gets to the point very quickly lol, very gay<3

MORE UNDER THE CUT!!!

: ̗̀➛Back to source

Adrenaline pumped through your veins, as you and your girlfriend Natalie had just completed a mission from the Operator. Tasking you both to kill a couple who lived in a quite suburban home. The kill was clean, done precisely as she had taught you over the years of being a proxy.

The two of you disappeared into the woods, slipping away before the authorities could catch wind of your mess.

The silence was almost suffocating, broken only by the ticking of her clock eye and the crunch of leaves beneath your feet as you made your way back to the cabin you two had to share.

You were still riding the high of the kill, your first mission in weeks, and it had gone off without a hitch. Natalie’s head turned toward you, a smug grin stretching across her blood-splattered face, the stitches at the corners of her mouth pulling upwards. “Not bad, babe…” she nudged you, her voice laced with satisfaction. She was still buzzing too, just like you.

“Thanks.” You reply, though it was cold outside you could feel your cheeks heat up. You’ve been dating for a few months now, and no matter how many times she’d praise you it’d always make you blush like a school girl.

Finally making it back, blood soaked into your clothes and crusted against your face. The lock clicks behind you and before you can even say her name, she’s on you. Her fingers digging into your hips, your back slammed against the wooden wall like it owed her something.

“God, you drove me crazy tonight, babe.” Nat growls, breath hot against your neck, hands already up your shirt. You barely have time to respond, only gasp and let your head thunk back against the wall, exposing your throat like some kind of offering.

One hand trailing down from under your shirt, her dominant hand now lifting your thigh up against her hip, she’s going crazy with her mouth. Leaving hickey after hickey again your neck.

Suddenly lifts you like you’re nothing, and carries you over to the small bedroom of the cabin. Tossing you onto the mattress like a ragdoll she’s way too fond of. Your head’s spinning but all you can do is breathe out her name like a prayer.

“Nat…”

She’s on top of you in a flash, you’ve never seen her move faster. Cars are fast, but horny lesbians are faster. Straddling your hips and keeping you down, you stared up at her like a deer in headlights. “Tell me what you want,” she murmurs softly against your neck, voice dipped in something dark, something teasing.

“You,” you whimper out. You could feel her grin grow. Against your neck, moving her face up to make eye contact, green eye staring into your soul. “Oh, baby, since you asked so nicely.” she reached over to the bedside, pulling open her drawer where she kept the goods.

One finger tracing your shapes against your stomach, while her other hand was pulling out the strap from the drawer. Setting it beside you, she makes quick work undressing you both. Smirking as her thumb rubbed against you, trembling beneath her and her calculating movements.

“I’ve barely done anything and you’re this wet? Ha, you’re so needy, huh..?” She had a certain glint in her eye, she knew what she was doing. She herself was already stupid wet from making you feel this good in such little time.

As much as she wanted to drag this on, she was starting to get just as desperate as you were. Leaning back, you had a whole view of her. Her softly defined muscles, her white sports bra that did nothing to hide her hardened nipples, and the green strap that she was adjusting to fit snuggly against her hips. “Please just fuck me already.” You didn’t feel like acting all coy right now, just desperately needing to feel her.

“Straight to the point? j'aime ça.” She giggled, wasting no time before pushing just the tip in. That was enough to make you throw your head back, a loud moan rippling from your throat.

Her eye watched you intently, taking in your every reaction. “You’re already trembling?” she teases, the glint of satisfaction in her eye matching the growing hunger. Her voice is just low enough to make your heart race. “Sale fille…” You have no idea what she’s saying, but coming from her it sounded so sickeningly delicious.

Didn’t take long until she was fully inside you, hands gripping your hips so tightly it was sure to bruise. “Did you mean to drive me fucking insane out there?” she mutters, biting just under your jaw, hand slipping up to cup your boob and giving it a nice firm squeeze.

You breathe out a laugh, dazed and already melting against her, walls clenching around her silicone dick. “What? I was just doing my job.” Her hand tightens it hold on your hip. “Yeah? Then let me do mine.”

The first thrust steals your breath. Your eyes wanting to flutter shut, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from her, she looked so relentless and focused, guiding every movement, biting at your collarbone, growling your name between praise and curses.

You’re not sure when your hands found her back, your nails digging in for something to hold onto, something real.

“That’s it,” she murmurs into your ear, voice hoarse. “Take it. You can do that for me, yeah? Be good for me?” You nod, desperate and wrecked, your answer barely more than a whimper.

“Use your words,” she snaps, pausing inside you, teeth on your shoulder now. “Yes,” you gasp. “I’ll be good, promise…I’ll be so good, Nat-”

“Good girl,” she purrs. And then her thrusts pick up speed, the rhythm of her hips is brutal, calculated. You’re writhing, hands tangled in the sheets, crying out things that barely sound like words. She’s focused, zeroed in on every twitch, every moan, every time your body gives her a reaction. It’s not just sex, it’s her next mission of the night. And she’s so close to the finish line.

She bites your shoulder when you clench too hard around her, enough to leave teeth marks, and maybe you moan a little too loud at that. Maybe she bites again, grinning.

“You’re doing so good for me,” she breathes, smug and soft all at once. “Tu es si jolie quand tu es comme ça. Tout à moi.”

The sensation builds slowly at first, like a pressure gathering deep in your core, soft and almost gentle, but persistent. With each movement, it intensifies, spreading outward in slow, rippling waves, until suddenly, it becomes undeniable.

“S-shit, Nat, I’m gonna…” You gasp out, legs wrapping around her hips. “I know, baby, I know.” She presses a quick and sweet kiss against your lips, her thrusts becoming sloppy herself.

The pressure in your body peaks, tightening every muscle, and you can’t breathe, can’t think, only feel. Natalie watched you intensely, her brows furrowing as she chokes out a moan of her own. Getting off from just making you cum. You don’t know how long it lasts. Time melts in the haze of sweat and sound. The creak of the bed, the wet drag of skin on skin, her voice in your ear, your name on her lips. She holds you down, takes you apart, builds you up again.

She helps you ride out your high, pulling out carefully making you shudder. Pussy still tingling from the sensation of it all. She flops onto your chest. Looking up at you like a puppy dog waiting for approval.

You run your fingers through her hair, sweaty bodies tangled together as she pressed soft kisses against your chest. Melting like butter against you.“You always this worked up after a mission?” you whisper, voice coarse and sore.

“You know it.” She pulls away from you, looking at you oh so lovingly. Leaning over you, breath hot against your cheek. She presses a kiss to your temple, more like a stamp than a comfort.

“Stay there,” she mutters, disappearing into the hall. You blink at the ceiling, your body wrecked in the best way possible, and listen to her rummaging around in the kitchen. The soft clink of a glass, the floorboard squeaking as she makes her way back to you.

She returns with water and a warm washcloth, cleaning you up just enough to keep the afterglow from turning gross. It’s rushed. Barely there. But when she flops down beside you, still topless, she pulls the blanket over you both and lets you bury your face in her chest like nothing in the world could be safer than this.

“You okay?” she asks after a long pause.

A smile tugs its way to your lips.

“Never better.”

Hehe… this is like my second time writing a smut one shot like this? I’m so sorry if it’s ass I’m trying to practise!! Criticism is welcome :3

I feel like I got to the point too quickly and I need to work on building more of a plot line

[heian-era-housewife]

Synopsis | How will Shiu react when he learns that you, his mate, are packing the heat in more ways than one while on a dangerous mission with friend and fellow assassin Toji Fushiguro?

Content | mdni 18+, omega!(f)reader x alpha!shiu, smut, fingering, masturbation, sex (p in v), knotting, biting, swearing, guns, blood, sweaty!shirtless!toji

Word Count | ~3.6k

"Got your gun, wallet, keys?" Shiu asked as you slid from his passenger seat.

"Isn't it supposed to be 'phone', wallet, keys?" You questioned.

"Not when you're an assassin," he smirked. You returned his smile, patting the firearm on your hip. Leaning in to place a goodbye kiss on your forehead, he flinched as his lips made contact with your feverish brow.

"Woah! You feeling alright, doll?" He asked.

"I think so. Why?"

"You're burning up!" He exclaimed, reaching foreward with the back of his hand. "You sure you can do this today?"

"I'll be fine," you reassured him. "Besides, me and Toji spent weeks lining up this hit. Not like I'm going to flake out over a little fever."

As your mate and handler, Shiu knew exactly how capable and deadly you really were. Even so, few people in your line of work believed an omega could make a good operative and, while he pitied those who foolishly chose to underestimate you, he also knew you had a tendency to push yourself beyond your limits.

He shot you an analyzing look before saying, "You just call me if you need anything, okay?" You gave his hand an affirming squeeze. "And hey," he added, "tell Fushiguro to take good care of you!"

"You know I won't!" You chuckled as you closed the door and watched him drive off.

"Hey, Fireball" Toji called out a few minutes later as you reached your meeting point.

"It was one time!" You scoffed at the nickname he'd given you after a particularly sideways mission where you'd fired off a shot inside a pyrotechnics storehouse.

Toji was your partner and friend. A rare exception to the alphas who questioned your skill as an assassin. Having known Shiu for over a decade, he was practically family. So it was with both confusion and a little concern that you watched his eyes darken as you approached.

"You feeling okay?" He asked, voice suddenly serious.

"Would everyone quit asking me that?" You rolled your eyes.

"It's just...nevermind." He trailed off. "Let's do this, yeah?"

"Hell yeah!"

Toji's target was sighted, barrel aligned perfectly with the mark's left temple. Even from a distance you knew Toji was a perfect shot and you tended to think of his victims in the past tense long before he ever even pulled the trigger.

But something was off.

His fingers were twitchy, eyes darting to meet yours every few seconds, a bead of sweat ran capriciously down his neck. He had already realigned the shot three times. You watched the muscles in Toji's jaw flex as he swallowed. Hard.

"What's wrong?" You mouthed, catching his attention from where you crouched, just out of the target's line of sight.

He gave you a look. Nothing more. A hint of panic in his calculating glare.

It was out of character and unsettling. What was he seeing that you weren't? The two of you, typically so in sync, seemingly worlds apart in the mission's most critical moment.

It made you uncomfortable. Itchy, almost. You squirmed restlessly in your post, hot distress churning your gut as your fever intensified. You quietly fanned your face, looking back only to see Toji had disappeared.

Where the hell...?

Your fanning became frenzied as you scanned for your partner. Just then, two large hands reached from the shadows behind you. With strength and speed, one clasped your wrist, halting your movements, while the other pressed firmly over your mouth.

"Mmh!"

"Shhhhh" Toji's breath prickled your neck as he pulled you in closer to his chest.

Straining to peer over your shoulder against his vice-like grip, you nearly gasped when you met his eyes. Inky black with pupils blown in a feral expression. Beads of shimmering sweat forming a glistening crown over his forehead. Nostrils flaring with ragged breaths he was fighting to keep quiet, chest heaving.

You felt nauseous and lightheaded, overwhelmed by the feeling you'd seen this look somewhere before. Fucked out. Rabid. Hungry.

His panting breaths tickled the mark on the base of your neck.

That's when it hit you. You had seen this before. About a year ago to be exact, when Shiu became your mate. Dawning realization crashed down in suffocating waves. You weren't sick. You were in heat. Too inexperienced to recognize the signs, as it was only your second. In an instant, everything made sense, the subtle clues of the morning drawing together- pheromones now pulsing off of you, hot and steady.

Suddenly you wanted nothing more than to be in the care and safety of your mate. Instead, you found yourself caught in the midst of a dangerous mission, bound in the arms of Japan's most deadly predator. And he wasn't letting go. Your heart began to race as you writhed in his grip.

"Mngh!!!"

"Don't move!" Toji urged. Then, pointing, he whispered,"He can smell you." Your target's head was now tipped back, nose to the air, inhaling deeply.

In your panic, you'd nearly forgotten about the man before you.

Toji wasn't the threat here. It was him. The one you'd come here to kill. An experienced alpha, Toji figured it all out before you had- your fever, your scent. Now he was protecting you in spite of whatever carnal urges were clawing at the inner workings of his alpha instincts.

Slowly, he released you as you allowed yourself to relax slightly in his grip.

"Stay still," he said using your shoulder to support his shaking hands while he rearranged the grip on his gun. He knelt behind you steadying his breath, concentrating.

Having caught your scent, the man you had been sent to kill pivoted slowly in place, homing in on your location. Aware that he was not alone, he reached slowly for his own sidepiece, pulling it quietly from its holster.

Despite his prowess, Toji was a mess. Hands trembling, heart pounding, the situation growing ever more dire. Keeping your eyes on the target, you reached up, taking Toji's hands in your own. Working together, you steadied his hold, wrapping your trigger finger over his.

"Ready?" You breathed.

Just then the target spotted you both, aiming his weapon with hasty imprecision and firing indiscriminately in your direction.

You didn't wait for Toji's answer. Squeezing your finger over his you made the shot and watched as the man folded to the cold concrete where he stood- a single red mark centered perfectly on his forehead.

You were only allowed a moment of calm, however, before another volley of shots came ripping through the warehouse in your direction, sending you and Toji scattering from your ill-concealed hideout.

The man's cronies came spilling in through the warehouse, no-doubt having heard the commotion within. Bits of fractured concrete rained down in a barrage of powdery shrapnel while metal storage containers sent bullets ricocheting in a deadly hailstorm all around you. Dodging the bombardment, you and Toji returned fire with varied success. Fear and adrenaline had taken your heat to critical mass, your scent acting as an unwanted beacon for your whereabouts. Your thoughts swam with visions of Shiu, concentration wavering as your very flesh ached in desperation for your mate.

"Need you to do something for me, Fireball." Toji panted as the two of you ran for cover. Rounding a corner, he pulled you in against the side of a shipping container, suddenly ripping off his sweat-drenched shirt. Heaving chest glistening, he stared at you expectantly and for a fleeting moment you thought he'd lost his mind. Then, clarifying his intentions, he held out the wadded up shirt. "Put this on, hurry!"

The effect was immediate. While it couldn't obscure your scent entirely, nor for very long, the footsteps that gave chase from your unseen assailants fell further and further behind while the bullets went from “near-miss” to “not even close”. Seizing your opportunity, the two of you ducked out the nearest exit, not once looking back until you'd reached Toji's car parked several blocks away.

Once in the car Toji sat, hands tight on the steering wheel, until his breathing became somewhat steady. You were sitting shotgun, face pressed to the cool window, desperate for a bit of relief.

“Call Shiu,” Toji said, handing you his phone. “Tell him we're coming to meet him. Spare the details if you can.”

You let out a cynical chuckle. Shiu was an ex-detective and a damn good one at that. Connecting the dots was his very nature, details or otherwise. With trembling hands, you dialed his number.

“Fushiguro, what's-?”

“Shiu, it's me.”

“Are you oka-”

“I'm in heat,” you blurted out. Toji slapped a palm to his forehead.

“Where are you? Are you with…” His voice trailed off, realization turning his stomach. “Let me talk to him.” His voice formidable and cold as ice. You handed the phone to Toji, collapsing into the seat while you listened to one side of the conversation.

“Look, we can't stay here,” Toji barked, “we'll get found out. We'll have to meet you halfway.” There was silence as he listened to Shiu's reply. Then, voice somber and serious he said, “You know I would never. You have my word…You can trust me.”

You were half-gone by the time the car's engine roared to life. Sick with need and drenched in sweat, you mewled your discomfort with each passing mile. It was humiliating. You, an assassin, clinging shamelessly to Toji's shirt for comfort, thighs pressed firmly together as throbbing pressure gave way to sweet-smelling pools of slick. An ache like you'd never felt radiated from your core. You needed one thing and one thing only- to be bred.

Toji, meanwhile, was having his own set of troubles. For fear of attracting unwanted attention, he kept the windows up forcing himself to take the brunt of your aroma, his white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel doing little to ground himself. Half-dressed and half-baked in your intoxicating scent, it became increasingly difficult to keep his mind and his eyes on the road. Before long, a strangled sound escaped his lips. Then another, and another, giving way to a string of faint whimpers Toji prayed you wouldn't hear.

Several miles in, you'd fallen into a sleep-like state, overcome by sickly exhaustion. On one occasion you stirred, breaking the silence with a mumbled plea.

“I need him,” you begged.

“I know, Fireball.” Toji croaked.

He'd done so well to contain himself. Denied and rejected every primal urge that gnawed at his raging libido. But whatever obstinance was left- whatever dredges of chivalry and self-respect he could muster- all dissolved at the sound of your desperate voice. In that one instant, a hot rush flooded his aching shaft sending it skyward in a shameful display of powerful lust. Shifting in his seat, he tried to hide it but it was no use. He was touch starved and ravenous. Desperate for friction where his throbbing tip pressed angry tears to the front of his pants that bloomed in darkened stains as they soaked through. Sparing you a sideways glance, he hoped you wouldn’t see as he began to palm the front of his pants. With one hand on the steering wheel, the other pumped his cock through the fabric of his sweats. Visions unfolded like a wet dream before him. Your sweet-smelling cunt swallowing his alpha cock. His knot stretching you past your limits. His teeth baring down on your mark, changing its shape, making you his.

“Toji,” you whispered, eyes still closed, unaware of his thoughts and actions. His whole body tensed at the sound of his name, snapping him back to reality. Jaw clenching in forced restraint, he replied with a hoarse, “Yeah?”.

“You're a good friend.” You finished kindly, your words coming down on him like a bucket of ice water. He'd nearly lost himself. Nearly betrayed that friendship.

“The fuckin’ best.” He said, kicking himself for his lapse in restraint. Reduced to a sweating, trembling, whimpering mess, Toji forged ahead determined to see his mission through and deliver you to the waiting arms of your mate.

Shiu paced next to his parked car, worry written over his face in deep lines. Just the sight of him sent a rush of slick spilling onto the seat beneath you. You surged with yearning as Toji gripped the steering wheel with a final anguished groan, aligning his driver's side door with an eagerly awaiting Shiu.

The two men exchanged a look through the tinted glass. Stark serious. Tense. Toji's blown pupils and desperate expression framed by sweat-flattened hair that dripped to his bare chest below. An accusatory fire boiled in Shiu's beating chest and glinted behind his hardened stare. For a minute, he thought he might punch his friend. Might just kill him then and there for whatever atrocities he may have committed. But as Toji opened the door, Shiu was nearly overcome with pheromones that burst from the vehicle and flooded his senses. While Toji practically gasped for fresh air, steadying himself against the side of the car, Shiu devoured the scent like a starving man. It was heady and intoxicating. Provocative. Irresistible. That's when he saw you. Weak and feverish, curled up in the passenger seat looking smaller than ever. Wrapped in Toji's shirt doing little now to cover your scent, still very much in need. Mark untouched.

Stepping up to Toji, he squared off with his fellow alpha. Then, raising his hand, he brought it down with a firm "clap" on Toji's shoulder. A gesture of friendship. Of gratitude.

"You did good." Shiu said. There was sincerity in his words. Toji offered a weak nod, then sank to the ground where he stayed for some time.

Mission accomplished, he thought to himself.

Shiu lifted you from the passenger seat and set you in his own car, removing Toji's shirt and wrapping you in his blazer. By the time the engine roared to life, you were already half gone. Face back on the cool window, mind drifting in and out focus. Little moans mixed with Shiu's name still fell from your lips, while your hand drifted idly- numbly- over your slick-stained lap.

"Fuck, I can't do this." Shiu said, not a mile down the road. "I gotta-" using his knees to balance the steering wheel, he quickly loosened his belt and fly. "I gotta have you." Freeing his cock, he stroked himself while he searched for a place to pull off.

He had every intention of getting you home. Of bedding you down in the comfort of your own nest. But unlike Toji, he was unrestrained and unfettered by the need to keep his hands off of you. His own need now as vital as the air inside his lungs.

As he pulled off the road you nearly sobbed with relief, a strangled cry breaking free from your chest as you finally let down.

Leaning over, Shiu brushed a bead of sweat from your dampened face before closing the gap with an empassioned kiss. He parted your lips with his tongue, moaning into your mouth with full abandon. You returned the gesture, running shaking hands through his flyaway hair, whimpering shamelessly while you explored his teeth, his tongue.

In an instant he was on top of you, scooting up and over the center console to straddle your lap- covering you, kissing you. It was tight and cramped and you didn't care. All that mattered was the feeling of Shiu. His smell, his touch, his taste.

He took your face in both his hands as he continued kissing you. Before long, the kisses traveled to your ear where they became something more promiscuous.

“God I missed you.”

He whispered his need for you, nipping at the shell of your ear before moving down to your neck. Hands and teeth and sultry moans filled the space. He licked a stripe along your neck and traced the stubble of his mustache along your jawline, breathing goosebumps over soft skin as he went.

"Fuck, I gotta have you" he said, reaching down to pull the seat's lever, lowering his weight down onto you as the seat reclined. In a matter of moments he'd managed to undress you both from the waist down, lips curling in a wayward smile the second he saw your glossy cunt.

With two long fingers, he reached down to part your folds, then slid them gently inside, pumping his wrist to the rhythm of his hips while he traced a line of salty precum from his tip over your tummy. He rocked you slowly with his weight, making you mewl with each upward thrust.

“That’s my girl,” he hummed softly. “God, I was so worried.”

“Shiu…”

Your pussy throbbed at his gentle words, slick coating his fingers as you pined for something more. You needed him like a vice. Craved him like a drug.

“Shiu, please.” You breathed.

Holding up his slick-sheened hand, he licked himself clean before placing his hands on your shoulders and lowering his forehead to rest gently over yours. His face was so close he was almost blurry, but you could still see the crinkle in his eyes from his devilish smile when he plunged himself deep into your aching core. You couldn't help the gasp that escaped you as he entered.

“Fuckkk,” you groaned, rolling your hips to match his pace. “Ha-harderrr.”

“This is what you needed isn’t it, dollface? I’m sorry I wasn't there for you. I should’ve known better.” He thrusted deeper. “You were so strong. So- hahh- fucking badass.” You tightened at his praise, moaning in turn. “Oh, you like that?” He asked, picking up speed. “Of course I'd expect nothing less from my favorite gunslinger.”

“You're driving me crazy!” You cried out in desperation.

“Oh this ain't enough?” He growled, grabbing your hips to drive himself deeper. Even at this angle, you still wanted more, needed more.

“Crazy? You're the craziest fucking -nngh- dish I know,” he panted. “And I ain't got nothin’ to do with it. Out there gunning down creeps while you're in -fuck- heat. Jesus, doll, you keep clenching on me like this you'll be milking me dry before I can breed you prop-hah-properly.”

“Do it then, Shiu!” You begged, turning under his weight. “Breed me properly!”

As he pulled out, you flipped over in the seat, hungry pussy swallowing his length, rounded ass pressing into his hips.

“That's it, doll! Fuck it back into me!” He growled. “Want you to take this cock like the rebel you are.” Speed and force rocked the car and still it wasn't enough. You arched your back, tits pressed hard against the seat. In a rabid moment of lust you bit down on the leather head rest, not caring what future clients might think of the suspicious imprint.

“Save some of that for me,” he teased, hand grazing the mark on your neck.

“I need- hahh-” you gasped as he forced his way deeper. “Shiu, I n-need your knot!”

"I know, doll, I know. Workin’ on it," thrusts becoming sloppy and more desperate.

You felt like you might explode. Your heat had reached a crescendo. The only thing that could break this fever was the stretch of his knot and the warmth of his seed spilling into you. It was agony.

“Shiu, please, fuck I-”

Sharp canines pierced the base of your neck, breaking the skin at the same time his hard knot appeared at your entrance. His thighs shook from the resistance while he thrust his hips forward, teeth sinking hungrily into your neck. Then, with a satisfying stretch, your desperate pussy swallowed his huge knot sending spasms through your core. Muffled cries of “Oh, fuck fuck fuck,” came from the place where he was still biting onto you. Walls fluttering, you milked his cock, hot ropes warming your insides as he emptied his heavy balls straight into you. Waves of relief poured over you as you fucked your orgasm back into him, clear liquid trailing down his thighs and yours.

Shiu lit a cigarette, blowing lazy clouds of smoke as he waited for his knot to let down, his bodyweight bringing comfort to your weary frame.

“Hahhhhhhh….” You breathed for what felt like the first time in hours. Blood trickled down your shoulder from where he finished marking you. You'd return the favor later.

“Thank you…” You whispered, barely able to keep your eyes open.

“You were amazing today. A real bad actor.”

“I wouldn’t have made it without you and-” you froze. Struck by the embarrassment of the day's events. “-Toji”.

Toji watched as you and Shiu drove off, still sitting on the ground, back resting against his car.

A silent tug of war played out in his head. Morals as grey as the pavement below.

“Fuck it,” he said, reaching for the shirt he had let you wear, now discarded on the ground near his feet. Breathing your scent, he stood, leaning against the driver's side door, tugging his pants just below his hips and freeing his twitching cock.

“Fuckkkk” He groaned as he fisted himself to the thought of you so desperate and needy in the front seat of his car. He stroked himself to the sight of the stains on his seat. Jerked his hips to the memory of your moans still ringing in his ears. Fucked himself out to every inch of you he couldn't have today. And finally, reaching his climax, he tightened his grip as he knotted in his own hand, white hot loads spilling thickly down the side of his door. Rutting his hips slowly, he maintained the grip over his firm knot, a final spurt of sticky cum painting his car in white.

“Sorry, Fireball.” He said, looking down at the mess he'd made. “I may be a good friend, but I ain't no saint.”

[barmaidatthegarrison]

Green Eyes and Gunpowder (4/?)

Thomas Shelby x OC (Emily Hughes)

Summary - Sharp-tongued, steady-handed, and raised beside the Shelbys like blood, Dr. Emily Hughes weaves through their war for Birmingham with a surgeon’s precision—offering comfort, challenge, and quiet resistance, especially to the man who’s forgetting how to be anything but a weapon.

Word Count - 3,256

Warnings - Nothing that wasn't there before

A/N - We have a small bit of conflict. Also, fun fact, the Swan is a pub I go to here in Dublin quite often.

Thanks for the support <3 Would love to know what you think!

Chapter 3

She didn’t expect to make it back to Small Heath only to spend her evening warming her hands on burning portraits of the king.

Then again, to quote her father, fuck the monarchy.

“Dr. Hughes, I’m told.” It’d been a while since Grace had first seen the green-eyed woman here in the Garrison. Nearly three weeks, though she’d been in a few times with the Shelbys since. Apparently, the inspector had run into her – called her an uncouth devil.

Well, that devil took a seat at the counter and smiled at her with nothing but kindness.

“Just Emily is fine. I’ve been a bit rude not introducing myself the last few weeks. It’s Grace, right?”

The pub had just opened for the day and this early it was only the two women in the whole place – well except for Harry doing inventory in the back.

Cleaning off another glass, Grace nodded. “No problem. It’s good to meet you.”

“Tommy says you’re from Galway. I was just there.” Grace stilled for a split second before continuing. “Where in the city did you grow up?”

“Newcastle for most of my life. I moved to Dublin to work after.”

“Near University College, Galway – I was helping at the hospital.” That was fine – this part of the story was true at least. She could answer any question about Galway. “Did you want to leave?”

That stopped her for a second, putting the glass down, she turned her full attention to the pretty woman at the bar.

“I…” She met nothing but kind eyes and a gentle smile. “My father died. I couldn’t be there anymore.”

Emily’s shoulders lowered and, in a move that shocked Grace, placed her hand over Grace’s own. Her smile turned empathetic, and Grace was almost nervous by how seen she suddenly felt.

“I’m so sorry, Grace.” Her voice was soft, warm. “I know how that feels. I’m sorry you do too.”

“You lost your father?” Emily nodded.

“I was fourteen.” Her grin only fell for a moment before it was back, “It’s not a good story. He was from Limerick. A good man.” Then she tacked something on that made Grace’s eyes widen, “A good father.”

Not the words themselves, but the fact that they were said in perfect Irish.

Emily laughed at her wide eyes. “He wanted us to know it. My mum didn’t like it, but she couldn’t stop him neither.”

“My dad wanted me to know it too.” Why was she speaking Irish? She shouldn’t be speaking Irish. The IRA used Irish. “He said it was important to know our history.”

“It’s always good to know where you came from.” Emily affirmed. “Even if it’s a little removed for some of us.”

There was a silence, a comfortable one. Emily’s eyes drifted out the door and back to Grace a few times.

“Are you waiting for someone?” She asked. Of course, she was; she wasn’t here just to chat, and she hadn’t asked for a drink.

“Tommy probably. Eventually.” She shrugged. “Or Arthur. Unlikely to be John. Whichever gets my message first.”

Vague.

“Tommy also told me you worked in Dublin.”

She nodded at that; she had been feeling a little too comfortable. Falling into her made-up backstory would make her feel more in control.

“I worked in a few pubs - the Swan was my favourite. It was a good place, and the owner was good to me.” She turned back to her pile of glasses, “There was a lot of singing back home; packed to the brim most nights.” She attempted a wistful smile, but Emily didn’t meet it.

“Grace,” her voice was quiet, “You didn’t work in Dublin.”

Panic.

“Yes I–”

“Grace.” She slammed her mouth shut. “We’ve got connections over there. There are no pubs with the names you gave – we’ve checked.”

Her gaze was intense, and Grace couldn’t have felt more wrongfooted right now if she tried. Was she about to get found out? Part of her wanted to look around wildly for her gun but knew if she tried it would definitely blow her cover.

Emily wasn’t saying anything, just staring at her, waiting for her to make the next move. It was only the two of them; if this went south, she would have a chance.

“I wandered when my father died, from Cork to Limerick to Belfast, even to Tipperary at one point. I was lost; I couldn’t be there, but I also couldn’t get work with no history.” She didn’t know where this was coming from, but she had to come up with something. “I lied to Harry to get the job – I was desperate.”

Emily’s eyes watched her for a little while, before humming and looking away out the door again.

Was that it? What was happening? Was this why Emily'd called for one of the Shelbys to meet her here?

She fisted her hands into her apron and tried to look a normal level of nervous.

“Please don’t tell, Harry.” She sounded desperate because she was, just not for that reason. “I need this job.”

The doctor eventually dragged her eyes back to Grace, smiling just a little, and the barmaid felt herself relax.

“White lies…” She started, taking out a cigarette from her bag, “We all tell them. And you do a good job here.”

Grace watched the cigarette light up with a nearly overwhelming amount of relief.

“Emily! There you are!” Grace’s gaze snapped to the sudden voice basically booming from the door. A woman, no older that she was and decently pretty, dressed professionally and with a camera on a tie around her neck.

That was… not any of the Shelbys?

“I came as soon as I could! A tip about a Crown inspector – how could I resist!” The woman basically bounced up to the bar.

Grace could almost feel her ears perking up – Crown business? She looked at Emily with her eyebrows raised.

“Hello, Emily. How are you, Emily? How’s your day so far, Emily?” The doctor teased, getting a sigh and a pout in return. “I’m very well, Rebecca, so kind of you to ask.”

“Yes, yes fine. Everyone is fine. Now, that tip?”

Emily laughed and turned back to Grace, who was sure the look she was giving Emily was rife with confusion.

“White lies, Grace. We all tell them.” So, she wasn’t meeting a Shelby here. Why lie at all? “This is Rebecca Gibbons, a reporter at The Times. Rebecca, Grace Burgess.”

“Yes, lovely to meet you.” The eagerness of this woman was nearly overwhelming, but Emily took it in stride.

“Let’s go get lunch. My treat and I’ll let you know all you want, eh?”

She picked up her bag and offered Grace a nod before heading out with a cheery “see you later” as she did.

A tip? What could she have possibly found out?

“Something’s amiss with the barmaid.”

The loud atmosphere of poker night still spilled into the kitchen, despite the door closed between them. Arthur and John were really messing with each other tonight, Tommy making his own little jabs here and there, and it was almost heartwarming to see them like this again. Almost like it was before the War.

Polly had wanted a cup of tea; she hadn’t expected Emily to follow her.

“What makes you say that?”

Emily leaned on the counter next to the kettle. “I talked to her today, about the lies, about not actually having worked in Dublin. She’s a good liar, but I’m a better one. Made up some story about wandering when her father died.”

Taking a drag of her cigarette, she wasn’t looking at Polly, just staring at the wall.

“Might be nothing, the boys like her, but… I have a bad feeling.”

“I’d take your bad feelings over a man’s good one any day. They go for whoever their dicks point at without a second thought.”

Emily nodded at that. Her face was inscrutable.

“She’s got a tell when she’s lying.” A deep pull and slow exhale. “She gives too many details. When she’s telling the truth, she’s vague. Her father's dead but she isn’t a wanderer.”

Polly poured them both cups of tea, orange pekoe for her and that horrendous peppermint stuff that Emily liked. She caught the younger woman smiling when Polly must have made a face.

“Thanks, Pol.”

The two women stood for a few minutes, shoulder-to-shoulder and silent, before Polly spoke up.

“You got him to offload the guns.”

Emily nodded, “Yeah. We should have gotten at least twelve thousand for them, but there’s too much heat from the coppers for that to work safely, especially if we need this done quick. I got ten.”

She sounded… almost ashamed. It reminded Polly of a confession more than anything else.

“I worry what this family would look like if anything ever happened to you.”

That was evidently not what Emily had been expecting and her eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline.

“Tommy doesn’t listen to anyone, Arthur’s angrier than I’ve ever seen, John is running away from his kids, and Ada is rebelling for God knows what reason. Those boys came back from France more fractured than they’ve ever been.” She took a sip of her tea, but Emily was still staring, confused and uncertain. “But you’ve been making them better, fixing whatever hell that war did to their souls. Sometimes they’re more like who they were before. I thank God for you every day, Emily. But I shouldn’t be surprised – you’ve been a good influence on them since they were lads. That’s part of the reason Martha liked you so much.”

Emily looked away. Polly knew she was going to say something, trying to find the words, she could feel it in her heart.

“I don’t know about that.” Her voice was a whisper. Polly nearly had to strain to hear. “I just want everyone safe. And because of that I feel like I’m more of a nuisance than anything. That I’m…” Her eyes closed and she swallowed thickly. “I’m pushing too much, wearing out my goodwill. I don’t want to interfere as much as I do, I know I’m not family – I know I shouldn’t. But I can’t seem to stop pushing us down what I see as the most survivable path. Taking reins I have no business touching. I’m lucky you all have been good about it. Lucky Tommy listens sometimes.”

Sometimes the way Emily spoke made Pol’s heart ache. Never thinking she belonged anywhere, an outsider even among them, the people she saw as her family – afraid they didn’t see her the same. Afraid one day she’d be thrown away again, left behind again with not so much as a goodbye. Trying so hard to make herself useful so they’d stay. Never believing that they’d never leave her, that she was as much a child to Polly as her own were, as the Shelbys were.

The War did a number on her too and a part of Pol burned with shame at forgetting that.

Her hands were shaking. Polly had seen it happen dozens of times when she was a girl. Her mother would scream horrible things at her, and she would stand there placidly, the only sign of distress the trembling of childish fingers.

Pol turned to her, reaching her hand out to touch the pendant on the chain around the younger woman’s neck.

“I gave you this,” her fingers tapped on the face of the Black Madonna, “because you are family.” She tilted her head back towards the kitchen door. “Those boys are playing poker in the other room because you are family. Because you make this family better. Don’t you disrespect us by claiming otherwise.”

Emily’s eyes were wide as she stared at Polly, but the older woman did not flinch or back away.

“I…” She wrapped her hands more tightly around her cup of peppermint, finally looking away. Nodding she took a sip. “Promise me you’ll warn me if that ever changes, eh?”

Pol rolled her eyes and turned back to the door. No need to dignify that with a response.

Seven weeks late. Emily closed her eyes and breathed. Fucking hell, Ada.

“The iron tablets I got you didn’t help did they.” It didn’t sound like a question, but Ada still shook her head and looked away.

Emily looked to Pol who was watching her expectantly. Putting her cup down, Emily stood and took Ada by the hand.

“Come on, Addy,” her voice was very gentle. “Let’s take a look.”

Twenty minutes and two examinations later (she had to be certain), the three women had reconvened to the sitting room. Ada was defending herself to Pol, saying that she loved him, saying that she wanted to keep the baby. Distantly, Emily was considering punching Freddie in the face. Why God had she agreed to keep their secret?

Pol was… understandably a little disappointed, which always sent an instinctive pang through the doctor even when it wasn’t directed at her.

Safe. That’s what she’d just told Polly she wanted: everybody to be safe. Childbearing wasn’t safe, especially at such a young age. Or alone. Did Freddie want to be a father? Was he even coming back? She knew he had disappeared after the raids; Ada had lamented to her about it. She’d patted Ada’s back and told her it was going to be okay, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t okay because Ada was with his fucking child–

“Em, please, you have to be on my side!”

Oh, she had tuned out for too long. Both gazes were on her now.

She closed her eyes and sighed. Ada’s eyes widened when she stood up, tracking her with no small amount of hope as she made her way to stand in front of the woman that she considered a little sister.

Crouching in front of the young – far too young for this – girl, she took both her hands. She was silent for a few moments, holding her gaze heavily, letting herself see the love and fear and desperation Ada was trying so hard to deal with in that moment.

“I’m your doctor.” She said finally. “No matter what you choose – to keep it or to get rid of it, I’m the one taking care of you, understand me? I’m the one who will end the pregnancy or deliver it.”

There was intensity in her voice, her eyes boring into Ada, making sure she understood that this was something she was not going to take ‘no’ as an answer for. Nonetheless, Ada nodded, a few tears welling up in her eyes that the only Shelby daughter blinked away just as quickly.

“Good.”

Of course she was the one relegated to telling Tommy. Of fucking course. Ada refused to do it herself and Polly said he would take it best from her. What she wanted wasn’t a fucking concern apparently.

It was at the stables where she found him. She didn’t want to do it at the house, too many wandering eyes and ears. He was petting the new horse, the lovely white one from the Lees that they hadn’t named yet, mumbling gently to it. At peace, that’s how he looked. From the door, if she squinted, it could be 1913 again.

“Tommy.”

He turned back to look at her with a smile, which fell when he saw the grave expression on her face.

“What is it? What’s happened?” He took a few steps away from the horse, and she came further in. Looking around, no one else was about. It was so much quieter than the heart of Birmingham ever had any right to be.

“Ada’s pregnant.”

She watched the last glimmers of joy fade from his eyes, replaced by horror and anger. Eyes flickering to her and the door, he was torn between asking her more information and going to find Ada himself.

“Do you know who?” She nodded. “Tell me.”

“Freddie.” And now was the time to admit her role, she knew, and so she did. “They’ve been sneaking off to seeing each other for months.”

His anger was a wild thing. If it had to go somewhere, she preferred it was to her rather than to Ada. The girl didn’t need that right now – not with the fear and hurt she was feeling already.

“How fucking long have you known, eh?”

“A couple of months, ever since I came back from Galway.” Betrayal, that was the look on his face. Hurt and betrayal. “She asked me not to tell anyone, Tommy. I–”

“She’s my fucking sister!” He was yelling now. Yelling was nothing new to her, she just moved her hands behind her back to hide the trembling – she knew it would start soon. “My sister! My family! Not fucking yours! And you didn’t tell me that she was fucking Freddie Thorne?”

Digging her fingernails into her arms was always effective at curbing her body’s responses. Yes, she could handle yelling, had been screamed at more times than she could count, but it was never from Tommy. And it ached almost as much as the words themselves.

Ada wasn’t her sister, this wasn’t her family, he was right, but it hurt to hear herself so painfully excluded from the family so soon after voicing her own doubts to Polly. But it was true – no matter what Polly told her, no matter what people like Inspector Campbell implied – she was an outsider that they welcomed into their home. That didn’t make her family.

“They’re in love, Tommy.” She couldn’t help but try and stick up for Ada here. It would make him angrier, but she had to do it. Ada was her friend, and she loved her. “They want to get married.”

“I don’t want to hear it. You should have fucking told me. What else are you fucking keeping from me, eh?” He looked like he wanted to hit something. “Make any more shitty deals on behalf of my fucking family you want to tell me about? Are you trying to ruin us? After everything we’ve fucking done for you?”

Her mouth dropped open, ice water filling her veins. He thought she… that she would ever… that she could ever betray the people she loved more than anything. The people who had saved her more than she could ever repay. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think the ache in her heart was it saying it was about to literally break in half. Swallowing heavily, she took a step backwards away from him and his anger.

“I’ll call Patrick tomorrow morning and pull out of our – sorry, your – end of the bargain. You’re right: I shouldn’t make deals on behalf of your family. You have my word that it won’t happen again.” She said, trying desperately to keep the quiver from her own voice with decent success. But she did keep her gaze on the ground, not able to look into cold eyes she was used to being filled with warmth.

“I’m sorry I keep disappointing you. Ada’s gone to the pictures if you want to talk to her.”

With that she turned and walked away, the blood rushing in her ears and the sound of her own heartbeat was all she could hear. From the warmth, she was sure her face was flushed all levels of red. Still, she didn’t run, but it was a near thing. She needed to be anywhere else. Desperately.

--- Chapter 5 ---

Tagged: @weaponizedvirtue

[yuzuocha]

HEARTSTRING FORTISSIMO. — セイヤ [XAVIER]

a spicier ending to xavier's 'heartstring symphony' memory. gn!mc

age rating ‣ 16+ [suggestive but not explicit]

warnings ‣ softcore, power play, minor asphyxiation. besides that, there's nothing much to warn about. still, beware lol

"Are 'small animals' like me pushovers? Do enlighten me, since you seem to know everything."

Perhaps it was because you haven't seen him in weeks, but it seemed you forgot what Xavier was really like. Yes, he is gentle. Yes, he is considerate. Yes, he is sweet. But his kind demeanor also held something sinister.

You haven't quite pondered about it much, but Xavier had a quiet yet possessive streak. He'd always at the very least have pinkies interlocked with yours when together. He'd always somehow teleport to you just when the enemy Wanderer was about to land a fatal blow. He always knew where you were.

He was a wolf in sheep's (or in his case, bunny's) clothing. He always has been.

“When faced with a hunter who knows my weaknesses and how to take advantage of them…” Xavier’s breath fanned your face, his right hand brushing against your temple. Although gentle, his touch felt electrifying. It felt dangerous. It was dangerous.

The breaths that were blanketed on your lips were soon replaced with lips of his own. You let out a short gasp at the stark contrast between his usual and current kisses — they were usually soft and mellow yet endearing, but now they were intense, brisk and hungry.

“Haa—”

A sigh of surprise left your lungs when you felt Xavier’s tongue glide slightly across your teeth. Rookie error — he wasn’t going to let you breathe for a while.

“...just what, exactly, do I do?” Xavier rasped in between kisses, one hand snaking up to support your body and the other coercing your head to a better angle.

With you growing increasingly lightheaded the more fervent and desperate his kisses became, a thrilling shiver crawled down your spine hearing his growl. You knew the answer to his question down to your bones.

You can only get devoured.

Xavier suddenly pulled away, finally giving you a chance to breathe. He gently tipped your chin upwards for your eyes to meet his blazing gaze while you caught your breath. You felt your body burn in places he locked his eyes with.

“...surrender,” You were able to mumble out. “You can only… surrender, or else...”

He whispered while wiping a lone tear that escaped your eye, “Or else what, I’ll get eaten or something?”

“Is that it, love?"

There was a pause of silence between your noses that were inches apart before Xavier dove down and pressed his lips against your neck, humming in satisfaction hearing you gasp every time he nipped your skin. His callused fingers started to tease your shirt off whilst kisses butterflied over his slow but precise work.

“...I’m sorry, I should’ve responded to your messages,” Xavier paused for a moment, murmuring the apology at your sternum. His hot breath on your bruised skin made you slightly arch your back. “And about my injuries and lack of reply… I promise it won’t ever happen again.”

“...will there be a day where you’ll fall asleep and never wake up?” His eyes softened at your reply as he leaned upwards. You felt his lips pecking your forehead, each of your eyelids, your cheeks and your nose before pausing right in front of your face.

“If such a thing ever happens, you—and only you—must remember to wake me up,” Xavier whispered, his hand sliding to your hips and his hair tickling your nose. You felt something graze up against your abdomen which lit up the fire burning at the core of your stomach. Your suspicions were confirmed seeing Xavier’s reddened ears gently glow through the light of the full moon.

Ah. You indeed missed him, and he missed you too. Greatly.

After a silent pause, you circled your legs around Xavier’s back and kissed his facial features just as he did to yours. His eyes slightly widened at your forwardness, however the surprise faded as quickly as it came as he cradled your body in his arms while pulling you up, the moon shining upon you and Xavier at each others’ full glory.

“I will.”

That was all he needed.

HEARTSTRING FORTISSIMO — END.

tysm for reading! comment down below if you'd like to be a part of the tag list, and if you can, please do consider reblogging! it helps out a lot ;; w ;;

yuzuocha © 2024 — all rights reserved.

[etrsilk]

Okok so I have like two ideas,

1. Killua x Reader where Killua is mad at something and doesn’t realize he’s ignoring his s/o and being distant so he ends up comforting her etc

2. Killua x Reader, his s/o comes home badly injured from a mission and he helps them

Thank you for taking these into consideration, I just found your page and I like your works! :)

If it’s too much don’t worry about it! Take care

— Hold Me Closer

𖥔 ݁ 𓈒 content/warnings: fluff and very very light nsfw

𖥔 ݁ 𓈒 a/n: hehe...here I am again after 4 months without a one shot (ㅅ˘ㅂ˘) I hate one shots where the hatred for the reader against Alluka is cringe and too forced. So I tried not to make it the case for this one, I hope I succeeded! Also, sorry it’s quite short!

𖥔 ݁ 𓈒 song ; ★

Killua is 24 here!!! This is a one shot w y/n & AGEDUP!KILLUA!

It was noon, and you and your boyfriend were still tangled up like lovers in your cozy, soft bed. You had just woken up from your lazy morning thanks to the slow, lingering kisses he was leaving all over your neck, your cheeks, your hair, your head…

You and Killua hadn’t been together for a long time, for a lot of reasons. Mainly because of his intense work as a Hunter. And also because, when he wasn’t off doing Urbex missions, he spent a good part of his time taking care of his youngest sister, Alluka…

You adored Alluka. I mean, she was kind, funny, and so sweet. You had always gotten along with her really well, though a part of you had to admit you were getting tired of him constantly prioritizing her over you. Even if, deep down, he wasn’t really aware of it, so you couldn’t really blame him… And besides, he had spent years without her. It was normal for him to want to make up for lost time…But you, in all this?

Luckily, Alluka was away for a whole week. That hadn’t happened in literally years now — and even though you felt a little guilty about it, you were kind of happy she was gone…

"What are you thinking about?" — Killua interrupted your thoughts.

" Nothing…" — you ran your hand through his hair. You were facing him, losing yourself in those beautiful blue eyes while one of his hands rested on your waist and the other on your back, tracing slow circles as if to soothe you.

Suddenly, he flipped you completely onto your back, leaving a trail of kisses from your neck to your nose. You both burst out laughing, so happy to finally have your little moment together

ring ring — Killua’s phone rang.

You both let out a groan, equally annoyed that such an irritating sound had cut into your moment.

"I swear, if it’s Gon I’m gonna kill him…" — Killua said irritably.

"Hello? Big brother, please come get me. I don’t feel good here, I just had a fight with my friends…"

" I so wish it were Gon… " — you thought to yourself, rolling your eyes at Alluka’s words.

« Stop crying, Alluka. I’ll get dressed and come pick you up. »

« Get dressed? Why weren’t you dressed? Were you with Y/N? »

"Heum ≧°◡°≦"

"My love, please, hurry up." — you said, slightly annoyed.

Killua looked at you, a little surprised and thrown off, clearly catching the irritated tone in your voice. But he didn’t linger on it, afraid of upsetting you more, and decided to hurry.

20 minutes later, your lover and your sister-in-law were back. In the meantime, you had barely moved from the bed, except to slip on your panties and one of Killua’s oversized random t-shirts (a/n: describing this reminds me of 2020 fanfics, idk why ahah) to at least look a little presentable.

You heard Killua calling out for you, sounding desperate and out of words to calm his little sister. Yeah… you were good at that. Finding the right words to comfort others. It was one of those many little things that made him fall in love with you. Your kindness, your eloquence, your gentleness… — once he snapped out of his thoughts, pushed by Alluka’s continuous crying, he decided to come upstairs, a little worried to see why you weren’t coming down.

"My love?" — you were lying on your bed, your back to him. "It’s a total crisis down there ahah, I don’t know what to tell her anymore to calm her down, I need your magic." — He tried to tread carefully, sensing your mood. He moved closer to you and slipped behind you, spooning you ( (¬‿¬) ) to try and get you to turn around and finally face him. When he finally succeeded, he kissed your forehead slowly, his hand stroking your hair. A few seconds later, once your body had relaxed a bit, he started to speak again…

" What’s wrong? I can tell something’s bothering you… I’m your boyfriend, you can tell me anything." — he said in a sincere, gentle voice.

"Killua, I’m gonna be honest with you. I love you, and I need you to be by my side. Stop neglecting me."

Killua felt awkward — honestly, he never knew how to handle this kind of situation. I mean… of course it hurt him that you felt like this because of him, but on the other hand, it was his sister. He couldn’t just push her aside or ignore her…

"Y/N, I love you, and I’m really sorry. But please, try to understand me. Being separated from Alluka was so hard, I just want to make up for the time I lost…"

"I see… That, and your job… What importance do I have for you? Why are we even together if you can’t bother to make a little time for me?" — you moved to get out of his hold. He was hurt by your words. And so were you. You didn’t want to say things in such a dramatic way…

"My love… "

"Oh, stop the drama already! We all know that by tonight you’ll be having your makeup sex — ow! What, Kurapika?!"

"Shut up, Leorio! — what he means is that maybe you should calm down before continuing this conversation…"

"Oh, it’s fine, I was getting there! " — said Leorio before getting smacked again by Kurapika. — "Ow okay okay fine, I’m out… "

You and Killua looked at them… surprised.

"Why are you even here?"

"Who cares. Anyway, Killua, you need to find more time because in the end you’re neglecting both of them… I’ll go check on Alluka."

Killua turned back to you and gently took your hand to caress it softly.

"i’m sorry. I should’ve been more understanding and noticed the signs sooner… I guess this isn’t the first time you’ve felt this way because of me?"

"Yeah… I’m sorry I blew up…"

Killua barely let you finish before wrapping you up in his arms again, softly stroking circles on your back.

"Don’t apologize, please. You’re my girlfriend and she’s my sister — it’s my job to make sure no one feels left out. Actually, I’m taking you out to dinner tonight. Just you and me. And as for my job… what would you say about me taking a week off?"

"Hunters can get vacation? Isn’t your job, like, full time?"

"Oh, yeah yeah, but considering my position in the organization — what are they gonna do? Fire me? Anyway… how about we head downstairs to check on Leorio, Kurapika, and Alluka? Who knows what Leorio might be telling her about us…"

"Yeah… but before that… what if we made Leorio’s prediction come true…?"

A/N : LMAOO LITERALLY RIGHT AFTER FINISHING THIS ONE SHOT I CAME ACROSS A TIKTOK ABOUT A RACE OF MONKEYS (Bonobos) WHO HAVE SEX TO RESOLVE A CONFLICT???

᱖ 𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬!!

Do not repost, use my works outside of Tumblr, copy, translate or plagiarize please !

[dragonsgf]

➵ 𓊆ᴍʏ sᴛᴀʀ𓊇

stalker Xavier au!

possessive behavior, obsession, jealousy,  a little spicy

[ #LoveandDeepspace #Xavier ]

Chapter 1

Xavier has always been a good friend to you. He was kind and polite, and he didn’t talk much, but the both of you always managed to keep the conversation going. Besides being colleagues at the Hunters Association, you two were also neighbors, so you spent a lot of time together, which, consequently, formed a closer bond between you and him.

You’ve considered Xavier one of your best friends for a while now. You started to talk more when you were on missions together, and a couple of months later, you were planning movie nights and picnics on days the color of the sky was bluer than his eyes. Since his apartment was directly above yours, you would visit each other almost every day to play video games or order takeout. Sometimes, Xavier would fall asleep on your couch while you two watched a movie, but he looked so peaceful when dreaming that you could never muster the courage to wake him up. You’ve talked to him once about it, saying that he didn’t have to leave and that he could stay the night, so that you two could have breakfast together in the morning.

“It’s ok, I can always come downstairs to have breakfast with you anyway,” Xavier responded mid-yawn. You didn’t want to insist too much because, for some reason, he didn’t feel comfortable staying the night. Once, you even asked him if your sofa was too uncomfortable to sleep on, but it was all in vain.

You two became so close that you gave each other the spare keys to your apartments in case of an emergency or if you just wanted to hang out: no one else had a spare key to your home, so this meant a lot to you. To be honest, you were glad Xavier was the one with it. You trusted him with your life - quite literally, since you were each other's partners in missions and he had saved you multiple times from a Wanderer that got too close.

You knew he would never betray your trust.

Since you’ve been doing extra hours that week, Captain Jenna let you go home earlier that day, and as you were walking home, you came across a civilian whom you had saved from a Wanderers’ attack a few weeks back: he was fully recovered now and seemed to be in good health. As you were walking, he stopped to greet you and thank you for saving him and his wife. It was nothing but a normal exchange of words with this stranger, whose name you didn’t even know. You must have been talking to him for no more than five minutes when suddenly your phone vibrated.

“Are U on Ur way home now? Its nice outside, we can chill on the balcony and enjoy the sun until dinner :)”

It was a text from Xavier. Odd. You hadn’t told him you were getting off work early. Your plan had been to swing by the bakery beneath your apartment, pick up a few snacks, and surprise him with a little impromptu picnic once you got home. You were sure of that - you hadn’t said a word to him about it. You pushed aside the confusion bubbling up and chalked it up to a possibility: maybe he’d heard something from Nero, Simone, or Tara. Though that in itself felt unlikely - Xavier never spent time with anyone from the association besides you. But maybe he was finally starting to open up… stepping out of his shell a little. Right?

When you got to your apartment complex, you texted Xavier saying that you’ll just take a quick shower, and when you were done, you would go immediately upstairs and meet him so you two could hang out. Before you got into the shower, you checked your phone. No response from Xavier, but beneath your text bubble you could see the word “read”. Xavier always replied to your texts, even just to say a simple “ok”, but maybe he was busy and couldn’t reply right now. 

At least, he knew you were home. 

After drying yourself and putting on clean clothes, you checked your phone again: no notifications from Xavier. As you opened the door of your bathroom, you heard commotion coming from your kitchen. The rattle of plates and cups could be heard, along with very soft footsteps, as if a 6-foot bunny was walking around the apartment. Your hunter’s gun wasn’t around: seriously, who takes a gun with them when showering? You looked around. What could be used to protect yourself? 

As you stepped outside the bathroom, holding your hairdryer like a baseball bat, you tiptoed your way to the corner that would lead to the kitchen. You smelled something. Was the intruder eating the food you just bought? Your mind was running in circles, but you had no time to spare. As you turned the corner, ready to attack whoever was in your house if needed, you immediately stopped as you saw a blonde-haired man moving the food from your kitchen counter to your balcony.

“Xavier?”

He stopped mid-step. Startled, your dear neighbor was in your house holding a tray with all the food you got with both of his hands. 

“Hi, sorry. I wanted to prepare a surprise for you.” 

He said, in a nervous laugh, a light red color tinting his ears. 

“I saw you arriving from my balcony before receiving your text. And you looked so exhausted, I wanted to do something special. I just thought I could be faster than you.”

“How did you know I brought food with me? You can’t see the bakery from your balcony.”

“You didn’t send me the text right away as you got here, so I figured you had something up your sleeve.”

He said, slowly making his way to your balcony to put down the tray.

All the worries left your body as you took a deep breath. It was just Xavier wanting to do something nice for you, and you couldn’t even get mad at him for scaring you when he had the most adorable, shy expression on his face. All you could do was let out a light giggle as you looked at him, since you caught him red-handed. 

Xavier was always very thoughtful with you, and you couldn’t help but notice the special attention he gave only to you. Maybe it was because you two were partners or neighbors. Whatever it was, you enjoyed it more than you liked to admit. 

You helped Xavier move the rest of the food and drinks to the balcony, as well as some pillows and blankets. After a day of work, this was all you needed (and wanted): a peaceful end to your day with someone you could just let your guard down.

Chapter 2

Since that day you encountered the civilian you had saved, you could feel a lingering presence everywhere you went. No, that’s a lie. You’ve felt this presence before, just not as regularly as you felt it now. It was starting to make you feel paranoid.

“It’s just the lack of sleep, calm down. Plus, you have your hunter’s gun; nothing can hurt you.”

This was what you told yourself. For weeks now, that’s what you kept repeating in your head on your way to work and back home, except on the days Xavier was with you. You felt safe around him, and maybe that feeling was just in your head because every time you were with Xavier, you didn’t feel the shadow creeping in the distance. But on the days you were walking alone, you couldn’t help but feel uneasy. It’s not that you felt better at home, if you thought about it. Recently, you started to receive random letters mixed with the rest of your mail. These were short and printed out, and put inside a blank envelope. Yes, blank because neither your address nor the sender’s were ever on these.

The first one you got, you thought it was a prank. “Ill never let U go” was written on it. You found it weird, but with no idea of who it was from, all you could do was ignore it. Then, there was a second blank envelope in your mailbox three days later. It read: “Ive searched for U for so long, and I have finally found U, my star.” Alright, now this one made you feel unsettled. What did this mean? Who could have been searching for you?

“My star?”

You said out loud, surprised by how loud your voice sounded in the deep silence that was your apartment. Again, you decided to ignore it, but this time you kept this letter in a drawer. Something about it didn’t seem right, and you had a gut feeling you should keep hold of it, just in case. Several days had now passed, and you had the drawer filled with these anonymous letters. You told yourself you would look into these, but lately, you just didn’t have the time; the past few weeks, you were either fighting Wanderers or sleeping. 

It was a Tuesday morning when you arrived at the association, breathless. Lately, you started walking faster whenever you were alone, not that you meant to. You barely noticed the quickened pace until you reached your destination. It was pure instinct now. By this point, everyone at work had noticed how you always showed up with your lungs gasping for air. Still, you always had an excuse ready - your alarm didn’t go off, the subway was late, something or other. Thankfully, your coworkers had stopped asking. You were running out of believable lies.

It was a boring day at the association: there were no missions, just a pile of reports on top of your desk that you had been procrastinating on filing out for weeks. As you got to your seat, fanning your face with your hands as the sweat from almost running to work streamed down your face, you noticed a huge bouquet of blue Forget-Me-Not flowers. You stopped, alarmed, as you looked around the office.

“It was already here when I arrived, it looks like someone has a secret admirer!”

Nero said with a teasing tone in his voice. You shifted your gaze from him to the flowers, eyes wide open and mouth agape. Although you were sweating, you felt a chill run down your spine. You tried to say something, but you were still trying to catch your breath. There was a card attached to this unexpected gift.

“To my star. I hope U won’t ever forget me.”

“My star? Again?” you murmured. There was no signature. You flipped the card, but nothing, just the name of the flower shop. The handwriting didn’t tell you anything about who this could be from, but you recognized the writing style. Hesitant, you put the card inside your bag.

You nodded your head, trying to shake off your anxiety. 

“It’s from a civilian I saved a while ago. I ran into him the other day, he and his wife just want to thank me.”

You said, forcing a smile and trying to calm your trembling hands. Even if it was that man, you couldn’t deal with gossip at the moment about you having a secret admirer, you were already as stressed as one can be, and you needed to focus on today’s tasks. Plus, the man was married, you wouldn’t feed into this if it truly was him. But you knew it wasn’t him. You had no evidence, you just knew.

You stretched in your office chair as it was already lunchtime without you realizing it.  Although you had spent the whole morning sitting down filling out reports, your whole body was sore, as if you had just spent the last four hours fighting Wanderers.

You glanced out the window - the weather was beautiful that day, clear and inviting - so you decided to have lunch in the park near the association. Once there, you settled onto a bench, waiting for Tara to join you. Children darted across the grass in bursts of laughter, dogs chased each other in wide circles, and elderly couples basked in the warmth of the sun, hands intertwined and soft smiles. If only you could stay there all day, soaking in the peace, without a single care in the world.

You took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of spring. As you opened your eyes, your heart almost jumped out of your chest. You could’ve sworn that you had just seen someone hiding behind a tree a couple of feet away from you: it was as fast as lightning, but you did see a tall, muscled figure moving. You swallowed your saliva; it was at this moment that you noticed how dry your mouth had gotten. Until now, you had managed to forget about all the nonsense that had been happening. You tried to ignore what you just saw, or what you thought you saw. But your eyes were fixated on the tree, waiting for any movement. Whoever it was had to step away and leave, right? 

But you were growing impatient. Without breaking eye contact with your target, you rose to your feet and slowly made your way toward the tree. You were exhausted - tense, on edge - but you needed to know. You had to prove to yourself that you weren’t imagining things. Steadying your breath, you stepped around the trunk, bracing yourself for whatever - or whoever - was waiting on the other side.

“Hey! Thank you for waiting for me. I was not expecting to take so long, but I reeaaallyy needed to finish my report on last week’s mission. Is everything ok?”

You looked behind you, Tara was walking in your direction, waving at you. No, not now. You turned around again, but there was nothing, or you should say no one, behind the tree. In disbelief, you almost lost your balance, making Tara reach for you. 

“Hey Tara. Sorry for the weird question, but on your way here, did you see someone behind this tree?”

Still grabbing your arm to keep you in place, Tara looked at you as if you had asked her if the sky was blue or if the grass was green.

“Uhhh, no. I didn’t see anyone. Why? Did you plan to meet with someone here?”

Chapter 3

Tara was the only one you’d confided in about the shadow that had been following you. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust your other friends - Xavier, for instance - but Tara had been the one to reach out. One day, she simply asked what was really going on. She mentioned how she, like everyone else, had noticed the deepening bags under your eyes. They all had - it was hard not to. Some of your peers even joked about it. But Tara saw more. She sensed it wasn’t just exhaustion or work stress. She knew something else was wrong. Thus, one day while the two of you were hanging out in your apartment, just the two of you, you told her everything. 

You opened up to her about the unease that had been gnawing at you - the constant feeling of being watched. How every time you got home, you compulsively checked that the front door, balcony, and windows were locked, sometimes more than once. You spoke of the sleepless nights, how your body tossed and turned as much as your restless mind. You told Tara about the anonymous letters that had started to show up, the bouquets delivered to your workplace like clockwork each week, and the strange morning ritual: how an employee from the bakery downstairs would hand you a coffee just before you left for work, always with the same message - someone had ordered it for you, a gift.

“And believe me, I’ve asked countless times if the employees know who this person is, and they always give me the same answer: this random person puts an envelope in the bakery’s mailbox with the order’s name and money inside saying to give it to the “hunter lady that leaves for work at seven forty in the morning”. Once, I asked one of the girls who works there if she could show me the letter if they still had it, but that didn’t do anything because it was a printed-out letter. She told me every letter was the same, I guess the person just prints out the same thing over and over again. And it has to be the same person who keeps sending me the letters and the bouquets because look at this.”

You got up, went to your room, and took out all the letters from your drawer as well as the stack of florist cards that always accompanied the Forget-Me-Nots. You held out both stacks of papers you had now in your hands. Then, from inside your bag, you took the letter that the employee in the coffee shop gave you this morning. You showed your friend who sat next to you how, although you couldn’t get any clues from the handwriting itself, they had to be from the same person by the way some words were spelled.

“See how they spell 'you' the same way? And how they never use any apostrophes? Plus, they call me ‘their star’. None of these help me figure out who this person is because almost everyone writes like this when they’re texting a friend, and no one ever called me ‘star’ before.

At first, I didn’t think much about the letters, but I kept asking myself why they didn’t even have my address written down. And then I figured it out. They don’t need to write down the address because this person puts them directly in my mailbox.”

You could feel yourself getting more agitated. You didn’t know what to do. A sense of claustrophobia was starting to become part of your day-to-day life by constantly feeling like you’re being watched. It wasn’t just paranoia anymore - it was persistent, like a shadow that never quite left, no matter how many lights you turned on. Every creak of the floorboards, every flicker in your peripheral vision, sent your heart racing. Even silence felt loud, oppressive. Your own home had begun to feel like a cage, the walls somehow closer than they used to be. You kept catching yourself glancing over your shoulder, expecting to see something there… but there never was. Just the chilling certainty that something - or someone - was always a step behind.

 Nothing was making sense. Who wants to get to you? Who was willing to give you this much attention? The dedication was commendable - unsettling, even. It wasn’t just a prank or some passing obsession. Everything had been calculated. Methodical. Someone had invested their time, effort, and precision. And for what? 

After an hour or so of throwing theories at each other, you and Tara decided it was best to talk to someone at the association who could help you decipher this mystery. Maybe they could see something in the letters that you two didn’t. Despite it all, Tara made sure you knew you had her support and that you would get to the bottom of this.

She left, and you were now alone in your apartment. At least, you should feel that you were alone. You were in the place where you should feel the safest. Nothing can hurt you inside your own home, right?

You were about the go check if you had locked the front door when the doorbell rang.

*Ding* 

Chapter 4

This startled you, and you hated how much it startled you. You were a hunter, and not just any random hunter; you were part of the Unicorn sector, who were rigorously selected by Captain Jenna and other higher-ups. Plus, you had been awarded as “hunter of the year” just a few months ago. You couldn’t let something as minuscule as a doorbell affect you this easily. That just couldn’t happen.

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself to glance at the peephole, but when you did, there was no one outside. How was there no one on the other side of your apartment door? The doorbell doesn’t ring by itself, and you were sure you heard it. 

As you were about to turn, suddenly two hands grabbed you. It was so fast you almost tripped, but a tight embrace held you in place. You felt one arm wrapped around your waist, the other around your chest. Whoever it was, was pressing your body against theirs. You could feel every heartbeat, every inhale and every exhale this person took. Your hunter’s instincts kicked in, you pushed them forward, making them flip over you, but instead of making them fall onto the ground, they landed on their feet. You were about to kick them when they blocked your movement, grabbing your foot. Raising their eyes at you, you finally saw who it was.

“Xavier?”

Your eyes must have been deceiving you. What was Xavier doing in your apartment? Wait, how was Xavier in your apartment if every door and window were locked?

He raised his hands, his big blue eyes looking at you as innocent as ever. 

“You didn’t answer your texts, I was worried about you.”

You knew that wasn’t the reason, or at least, the main reason why he was there.

“Explain yourself, Xavier. That reply won’t do.”

You had your wrists raised, ready to attack whenever. Your mind was running in circles, you were still trying to catch your breath, even if you had barely moved. Your heart was beating faster than ever before, a rush of adrenaline running through your veins. But Xavier was faster, before you realized he was behind you again, this time pressing you even tighter against himself, you could feel every inch of his body by how close you two were. You tried to get yourself free, fighting with all the strength you had, but to no avail. Xavier spun you around, pinning you against the wall. He grabbed both of your wrists, holding them above your head, one of his knees keeping you in place. Stuck between him and the wall, his forehead was against yours, your breaths mixing together. He was panting, his breath unstable, but, at the same time, Xavier looked as calm as ever. 

“Please behave. No need to attack me. Aren’t we supposed to be partners?”

He wasn’t looking at you, but you could see how his soft blue eyes, which you always compared to the clear blue skies of a warm spring day, the eyes that always looked at you like you were brighter than all the stars in the universe, were now looking at you with the hunger of a starving ocean where waves fight with the wind, a fight with no winners. 

Xavier looked at you like you were his next meal, like a famished carnivorous animal who’s been starving for months, days on end, looking for something to satiate his needs. But there was only one thing that could satisfy him. You.

Chapter 5

You and Xavier stayed in that position for a while, neither of you dared to move. You could feel the heat coming from his body, radiating in waves that made it hard to focus on anything else. The sweat running down his neck caught your eye, a single bead tracing the sharp line of his jaw before disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. His whole body was tense, muscles coiled beneath his skin like he was holding something back - barely using any force on you, yet every inch of him vibrating with restrained energy. 

“Xavier, what’s going on?”

Your voice was shaking, just as your whole body. Seeing Xavier like this was definitely something new - intense, unsettling, and something else you didn’t want to name just yet. His gaze flicked to yours, dark and unreadable, and it held you there. Not aggressively. Not even deliberately. Just… completely. Like he’d stepped into your space and taken the air with him. 

You could hear your own pulse now - fast, loud in your ears - and still, neither of you moved. It was like the moment itself had thickened, pulled tight around the edges. There was a current between you, humming quietly under the surface, electric and confusing. You weren’t sure if he was about to walk away or pull you closer. And honestly, you weren’t sure which would be more enticing. 

Amid the chaos of a million thoughts racing through both your minds, you laughed. It started as a small, involuntary giggle - something you’d been desperately trying to suppress since the moment Xavier first pulled you into him. But once it slipped out, there was no stopping it. The tension broke like a dam. You were laughing so hard that tears welled in your eyes, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. And every time you glanced at Xavier, his wide-eyed, bewildered expression frozen in a perfect mix of shock and concern, it only set you off again. It was absurd. It was cathartic. And for the first time in a while, it felt like relief. When you finally got a hold of yourself, a flicker of red poison could be seen in your eyes when looking at him, a smirk on your lips as the perfect accessory.

“Oh, please, Xavier. You really didn’t think I knew it was you from the beginning? You were so obvious with everything, I knew you wanted me to find out. I knew you felt a thrill inside you just thinking about it. That’s why I dragged it for so long, I wanted to make you wait. I wanted you desperate. And you fell right into my trap.”

Now it was Xavier who had agitation in his eyes. He stared at you as if your confession had short-circuited something in him, like he couldn’t quite process what you had just said. And seeing him like that - stunned, caught off guard - brought you a quiet simmering satisfaction. This was the moment you’d been waiting for.

Yes, he had been meticulous. Calculated. Always two steps ahead. But not as much as you. 

You’d known from the moment he appeared in your apartment, carefully arranging your balcony picnic, that something was off. You could feel it - the way everything was too deliberate, how he had the answers to your questions on the tip of his tongue, as if he had rehearsed them. You knew he’d been waiting. Watching. You knew he had been waiting for you to leave work, that he saw you talking to that civilian. That was why he texted, urging you to come home. You could almost picture it: the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers hovered over his phone, how he must have almost ran to you and pushed you away from that man who dared speak to you, look at you. You knew the reason he didn’t reply to the text you sent when you got home was because he was too impatient even to waste a second replying to it when he could just go and see you, be with you. 

Xavier never handled jealousy well. You noticed it every time - how his mood soured when another man spoke to you, how his eyes tracked you with an intensity that bordered on possessiveness. He could try to mask it with charm, with quiet restraint, but the truth always leaked through the cracks. And you knew, eventually, he would break. And he had.

You loved teasing Xavier. That’s all it was - or at least, that’s what you told yourself. There was something about his possessiveness that lit a spark in you, something that made your skin hum with anticipation. No one had ever been this clingy, this attentive, this obsessed - and you adored every second of it. That’s why you kept the letters. The cards that came with the flowers. Little mementos of his desperation. That’s why you kept accepting the coffee deliveries from the bakery downstairs, always smiling as you told the employees, “It’s from my friend Xavier,” just so the girls wouldn’t ask too many questions.

It was all part of the game. Like the drinks you planned with colleagues from the association - not because you craved the company, but because you wanted an excuse. A reason to flirt a little too much with some random guy, just enough to set Xavier off. You lived for that look on his face, the one that flared just before he’d drag you away and insist you “go home”. 

You knew exactly how to push his buttons. That’s why every time you and Xavier watched a movie on your days off, you’d pretend to fall asleep - just so you could rest your head on his shoulder. Every time, without fail, you’d feel the subtle shift in his body, the way he tensed, the way something in him quite literally grew from even the softest, most innocent contact. You always had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from giggling. 

God, it was adorable - how hard he tried to hide it. How impossible it was for him to pretend he didn’t feel exactly what you knew he did. 

Now that you were really looking at him, you had him exactly where you wanted - stunned and speechless. His grip on your wrists had loosened but you stayed in place, knowing exactly what that sight did to him. Your smirk was still in place. Even you couldn’t hide your satisfaction anymore, and the heat pooling between your legs was becoming impossible to ignore. Patience was running thin. 

“So…how does it feel to have the light shine on you, my star?”

[that1emowitch]

One shot suggestion: Dick finding out about joyfire bc him finding out his little brother is dating his EX (and honestly probably his other ex too, let’s be real) IS SO FUNNY

OMG I LOVE THIS IDEA!!!

(also can I just say I also love ur username <3)

This isn't short enough to be a drabble but not exactly too long either, it's 760 words, so make of that what you will. Here it is!

TW: Jason's usual level of swearing but milder

"YOU'RE DATING MY EXES??!"

Dick stood in Jason's doorway at the Manor, eyes wide. This was one of those rare times when Jason was staying here, just for a few days, mostly for Alfred's sake. His friends (or so Dick thought) Roy and Kori had joined him— for reasons unknown.

Dick was... feeling slightly awkward with them being around, Kori more so. He was quite civil, buddies, even, with Roy— after all, they'd only dated for a week or so. But Kori... their relationship had not ended well, at all. But Jason refused to unless his Outlaws did, so Dick let it slide.

He'd gone up to call them down for dinner, at Alfred's bidding, going to Jason's room first... to find Jason sitting on Kori's lap while she cradled him, and Roy french-kissing Jason.

"YOU'RE DATING MY EXES??!" The words tore out of him as he stood with his eyes wide, trying to process what he'd just seen.

Jason turned beet red, suddenly jumping away from the red heads. Kori sat cross-legged, smiling as if nothing had happened, while Roy wore a smug grin.

Dick turned to them, his voice high-pitched with disbelief. "AND YOU ARE DATING MY LITTLE WING?"

"I ain't little, Dickface," Jason scoffed from the corner, looking downright embarrassed.

"I don't see the problem," Kori stood from the bed, towering over all three men. "You and I, or you and Roy are not dating anymore. And we are all adults. And we have the love for each other. Why would we not date?"

A unbelieving sound escaped Dick. He turned to Roy, eyes flaming. "You. I know for a fact how vulgar you get in a relationship. Have you done it with my baby brother?"

From across the room he heard Jason's choked gasp, but he paid it no mind.

"Dude. Your 'baby brother' is 24." Roy shrugged, resting a hand on Dick's shoulder. "Why're you getting so worked up over it?"

"I'm not— no, no, I'm not worked up!" Dick scoffed. He faced Jason, pouting. "You. You stole my exes!"

Finally, Jason managed to get control over his expression and forced a smirk. "Yeah. Maybe they just know who's better."

"Yes, Jason is a much better of the partner than you, Dick," Kori pointed out not-so-helpfully.

Roy finally registered Dick's bloodthirsty expression and backed away, hands lifted. "Whoa, hey, man, chill. Seriously."

"I am chill," Dick snapped, glaring at him. He turned back to Jason, who was clearly trying to appear cool and intimidating, and pointed an accusing finger. "You have so much to explain. But right now Alfred wants you all down for dinner."

Then he left the trio without a word.

A bit after dinner, Dick finally found Jason alone in the library, reading some book titled 'Jane Eyre'.

"Jason." Dick walked towards him, expression a forced calm. "I am... sorry about how I reacted earlier."

Jason looked up from his book, an eyebrow raised. "No, you're not."

"No, I'm not," Dick agreed, sitting beside his brother. "How could you not tell me?"

"I didn't tell the rest of the Bat-cult either. You're not special." Jason leaned back, carefully placing a bookmark in the book before putting it aside.

Dick took this as a sign that Jason wanted to talk. "Jaybird... I'm your big brother, you know I love you, right?"

Jason looked away, muttering something that sounded like a mix of "Fuck off" and "Yeah, I know."

"It's just... If you'd told me, yeah, I might have freaked out at first. But I just want you to be happy, in the end. And if you're happy with my exes..." Dick sighed. "I guess I'll just have to live with it."

Jason turned back to his brother, glaring slightly. "Stop calling them your exes. That's my girlfriend and boyfriend you're talking about."

Dick winced. "Yeah. Sorry, sorry, I just... Do you just have a thing for redheads? You had that schoolboy crush on Babs when you were, like, 13. You were dating Artemis of Bana-Mighdall. And now you're dating Roy and Kori."

Jason scoffed. "You're one to talk. You've dated Babs, Kori, Roy, Wally West... Do I really have to go on?"

Dick chuckled, laying an arm around Jason's shoulders. "Guess it runs in the family, huh?"

"We're adopted, asshole," Jason grumbled, but leaned into Dick's touch.

After a long beat of silence, Jason spoke up again. "I also dated Rose Wilson for a while. She is not a redhead."

An amused laugh escaped Dick, and he ruffled Jason's hair lovingly. "Yeah, yeah."

[ceilidho]

do u perchance have any ghost/soap/reader thoughts to spare 🤲

oh my god you wouldn't even believe the amount of thoughts I have about them (nsfw below the read more)

I love thinking about what the dynamic might look like depending on who initiated the relationship.

I love love love the idea of Ghost dating you (a civilian who lives off base; maybe he even keeps you tucked away in a house somewhere up north to keep you safe) and realizing that Soap has a bit of a crush on you. He talks a bit too much whenever Ghost brings you around, postures a bit in front of you, and gets VERY sketchy and flighty when Ghost tries to talk to him about you later.

He won't admit it, but it's hard seeing pictures of you (or worse, meeting you in person and getting to see with his own eyes how teeny tiny you are next to his behemoth of a CO) because anytime Soap does, his thoughts immediately jump to something nasty like "wonder how he fits his cock in her mouth" "she probably gags on it a little"

He really can't help it; it's part being cocky and competitive by nature and wanting to measure up to the guy he holds in such high esteem (Soap's had a bit of a work crush on Ghost since basically day 1 of working together; his little heart eyes when he said "Save you a seat, sir" that first mission) and part genuine attraction. And then part being just a regular guy with filth on the brain 24/7 - like sue him, he sees a gorgeous girl and a guy twice her size with his arm around her waist, he's gonna think about that when he's alone in the showers.

Ghost obviously picks up on this almost instantly.

The next time Ghost brings you up, they're setting up camp somewhere in the desert, and Soap's already red face (he tans as well as he burns) grows even hotter. It's obvious that he's got it bad for you. It's also obvious that he thinks he's being slick and keeping his crush hidden from Ghost.

Weeks in the desert are a bitch to deal with. Especially weeks spent in near constant proximity to work colleagues/friends; usually the guys are used to sneaking off to crank one out every once in awhile, but something about this particular mission makes that impossible. They're stuck in the same quarters 24/7 and Soap can't even handle hearing your name because he's so pent up and jittery. Probably hasn't jerked off in at least a week and a half.

Maybe one night, when it's just Soap and Ghost retiring for the night while Price and Gaz take over watch, and Soap's been particularly acerbic all day, frustration etched into his face, Ghost drags him by the arm down with him onto the bed. Soap's caught off balance (they're both dead on their feet; he didn't expect Ghost to suddenly tug him down beside him onto the too small cot that barely has enough room for one of them) and tries to scramble away at first, but Ghost growls at him that if he doesn't tug one out and quit making stupid calls on their mission, he'll do it for him.

(Obviously, in this 'verse, Ghost wouldn't have any problem with that. He hasn't been suppressing his feelings for Soap so much as figuring out the best way to get Soap to come around to the idea)

The thing that finally stuns Soap into silence is when Ghost pulls out his phone (which has basically 3 contacts, a handful of photos and nothing else) and opens up a bunch of your nudes. Completely gobsmacked. Immediately bricked up, sweat beading on his upper lip, eyes flicking wildly over to Ghost at his side, who's already undoing his belt and Soap feels like his heart's about to pump straight out of his chest.

"Y'gonna lay there like a fucking idiot with your mouth open or deal with that?" Ghost finally growls, pulling his own cock out (Soap stops breathing for a second at the sight; it's as big as he would've guessed, proportional, girthier than it is long, and already hard, wet at the tip because Ghost's a pretty leaky man).

He's giving him tacit permission to jerk off to his girlfriend's nudes.....obviously Soap's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. His brain is fried though - he won't even acknowledge the degrees to which this whole thing is absolutely fucked, jerking off with his lieutenant to his lieutenant's girlfriend's nudes.

All he can concentrate on are the photos of you in your lacy lingerie (maybe tugging your panties to the side, flipped over on your stomach with your hips canted in the air and ass on full display) and the sound of Ghost's hand slick over his dick. It's the hottest he's ever felt in his life and he's almost worried that he's going to pass out before he can even enjoy himself properly.

[Maybe right before he comes, Ghost reaches over and wraps a big hand around Soap's balls and gives them just the slightest little squeeze, grunting in his ear to "c'mon, get it over with", and Soap near blacks out from how hard he comes]

[mediocrecowboyhat]

Set in sand - Chapter 15

We mark the year 1934 and a peculiar journal falls into your hands. It's telling the tale of an outlaw and the downfall of a gang. Some pages are torn and others are downright unreadable, but nevertheless, you are still able to make out some parts of the tragic story.

With the help of a certain time traveler friend of yours, will you be able to save the author of the journal or will you be the cause for his demise?

Previous chapter - Next chapter

Word count: 4.5k

TW: end-game spoilers will be mentioned very early on in the story, 18+ MDNI, sexual themes, violence, gore, death, misogynistic themes (anything that happens in the game as well), she/her pronouns

After a while Mary-Beth takes your place beside Abigail and you decide to take the opportunity to freshen up and change into a pair of clean clothes. Without a proper bathtub, you struggle to scrub the dried blood off your skin and hair, but eventually it's gone.

By the time you're finished, the sun has set completely, though rest is the last thing anyone here can think of. Suspension hangs heavy in the air as you all await the men's return, hopefully with Jack amongst them.

It still angers you. It's one thing to hold a grudge against the gang. They could have tried to shoot up your camp the same way the Grays have tried in Rhodes, but no. These Braithwaites seem to be a special breed.

Now you're only left with hoping, praying and trusting that the others will succeed. As much confidence as you have in them, there is still a small sprout of doubt in the back of your mind, threatening to grow. That family has proven several times now that they're far more cruel than the Grays.

Quickly you force those thoughts back and let your gaze wander around camp. What you need is a distraction, possibly someone to talk to. You could go comfort Abigail again, but you'd better want to give her some space now.

Nothing can ease her mind except for her son's return and that's something you can't provide. As you stand at your tent, you suddenly feel a presence next to you and you turn your head just to face Kieran.

You can't remember if you've ever had a proper conversation with the former O'Driscoll before. All you know about him is what you've heard from Mary-Beth and some of the others. What you definitely know is that she's sweet on him.

Other than that you've noticed that he's an extremely jumpy person, always startled by people approaching him. Another thing is that he's working hard to gain the gang's approval. You recall Arthur telling you about his fishing trip with Kieran once.

"You okay?", you ask, having no idea where your question is coming from. Perhaps it's the concerned look on his expression.

No, you wouldn't quite describe it as concerned. More as afraid.

"I feel so guilty. I mean, I saw the men, but didn't think anythin' of it. Abigail, she..." His sentence trails off and his sad, green eyes are fixed on something in the distance. "Do you think she's mad at me?"

You're not sure what to say to that. It's tough to answer, for sure. Right now it seems like Abigail is mad at everyone and will stay mad at everyone until she has her son back.

"Maybe.", you mutter with crossed arms. "But I also think she's grateful that you at least saw who took him."

You all are lucky that he had paid attention. You can't begin to imagine the havoc if you didn't know where the boy went. Kieran turns his head to look at you. "Do you think we'll have to move again?"

That question can be answered with a rather obvious answer. Shooting up not only one, but two big families in this area ought to alert the law. If no one is on their way now then they sure will be later.

"Yes."

One way or another, the Pinkertons will be back on your trail again. If lady luck is on your side then you might slip away before they find you again like they did back in Horseshoe. A sigh escapes your lips and you stifle a yawn.

The past few weeks have been rough on you. It seems like you're always either on the run or caught up in some fight. Makes you wonder if that's how the outlaw life is in general or if you're going through an exception now.

Maybe it's just a struggle at the moment, because of all that Blackwater disaster or maybe the fight never ends once you turn to this side of the law. Either way, you will make sure to push through it and you feel more ready for that than ever.

"Shouldn't we start packing now then?", Kieran rips you out of your thoughts and you shake your head.

"We can't do anything without Dutch's orders.", you point out.

After your short conversation with him, time moves excruciatingly slowly and there's nothing that could help you make it pass faster. Your mind is occupied with worries and fears and you regularly catch yourself counting the minutes.

By the looks of it, the others don't seem to do any better than you. The only words that are being exchanged are ones of comfort directed towards Abigail. Other than that only the crackling sound of the fireplace in the middle of camp can be heard.

The mood is too low to socialize with anyone, so you find yourself sitting on your bedroll and fidgeting with the very few belongings you own. It's a shame that you've lost yet another gun. After the Schofield has been kicked out of your hands back in Rhodes, you couldn't find the time to look for it.

By the way it's going so far, you're pretty convinced that it's not even there anymore. It's beyond upsetting, really. That revolver was a gift from Arthur after all, but maybe he's willing to accompany you to a gunsmith.

Or if you're lucky then he might have another gun that he isn't using anymore and can spare. The lack of weapons on you makes you feel oddly exposed and only now do you realize how much you miss the weight in your pocket.

Now that you think of it, you should definitely look out for a proper holster as well. This time you can customize it nicely, now that you have the money for that. Perhaps you could also order some engravings on your next gun, depending on the price.

After the bank robbery in Valentine, you've been practically swimming in dollar bills and have yet to spend it on something. When you have the chance you could keep an eye out for new clothes too. You hardly believe that you will ever get the bloody ones completely clean again.

The sound of several horses galloping grabs your attention and you're up on your feet in a matter of heartbeats. Just as anticipated, Dutch and the others are back and everyone rushes towards them.

A wide smile spreads on your face, but it quickly falls once you notice the hardened expression of the men. They look anything but happy and you step aside to let Abigail through.

"Where's my son, Dutch?", she asks with her voice all hoarse from crying.

Dutch avoids her gaze and let's out a defeated sigh. "I'm sorry, Abigail. He wasn't there."

His words make the woman cry out in agony and your arms shoot forward to catch her before she could fall down on her knees. Her body is completely limb in your embrace and you try your damn hardest to support her.

"But we know that he's in Saint Denis.", Hosea calls out from the side, his kind eyes softening as he looks at her. "And we know who has him."

The Braithwaites brought him to Saint Denis? What for? As much as your mind wants to race with thoughts, you focus all your attention on the woman in your arms and you help her get back to her tent.

"He's okay, Abigail. We will go to Saint Denis and get Jack back.", you tell her in a soothing voice, but your words have no effect on her. You doubt that any sort of comfort will have.

After a while she passes out from exhaustion and grief and you climb out of the tent. As you stretch your back, your weary bones crack and you observe your surroundings. It looks like the sun is starting to come back up and you pinch the bridge of your nose.

You were hoping to get at least a handful of hours of sleep tonight, but that won't be happening anytime soon. When even was the last time you had a full night's sleep? It's been too long ago for you to remember.

Even if, you feel too antsy to rest now, let alone lay still. Seems as if you're not the only one, because you spot some of the men sitting around at a table. They're not talking to each other, but rather just staring infront of them with grim faces.

What else would there be to talk about? There's nothing on anyone's mind except Jack. The boy's safety is the gang's top priority at the moment. You walk over to the fire and begin brewing coffee for everyone to keep yourself busy with something.

After you're done, the sun is up entirely now, casting a warm yellow light on Clemens Point. If the circumstances were any different, this would be a beautiful morning. As you quietly sip on your coffee, you overhear Lenny calling out to the men at the table.

"Hey, Dutch! We got a problem!"

Your gaze follows to where his voice is coming from and you see him walking in with two neatly dressed men. Lenny's rifle is raised, pointing right at them and you feel every muscle within you tense up. The Pinkertons have already found you.

Your legs carry you over to Arthur's side, your coffee long forgotten and you stare at the men through narrowed eyes. Their suits look similar to one another, almost as if it's meant to be more of a uniform than a casual outfit. The dismay written on their faces is as clear as the daylight.

"Not a problem.", the one with a clean shaven face says. "Visitors. A solution. Good day, fine people. Mr. Van Der Linde. Mr. Matthews, I presume and...who are you?"

The last question is directed at John, who's standing up from his chair and squaring up his shoulders slightly. His hand, as relaxed as can be, finds it's way to the gun that is holstered to his side. "Rip Van Winkle."

Under any other circumstance you probably would have laughed at his response, but you're too tense and tired to even lift a finger. The man introduces himself as Agent Milton from the Pinkerton Detective Agency and the one beside him as Edgar Ross. You make sure to remember their faces and names very well.

Milton's eyes light up in recognition as they fall on Arthur. "Ah, Mr. Morgan, nice to see you again."

More and more people join you, surrounding the Detectives like vultures stalking their prey. You're pretty certain that if someone would hand you a mirror right now, you'd see that you don't look any different.

"And to what do we owe the pleasure, Agent Moron?", Dutch asks over his shoulder, not even bothering to stand up. His voice comes out exhausted, clearly tired of the past events the gang has been put through.

Milton ignores the casually thrown in insult. "I don't know if you're aware, but this is a civilized land now. We didn't kill all them savages only to allow the likes of you to act like human dignity and basic decency was outmoded or not yet invented. This thing, it's done."

Dutch slowly rises up and steps closer to the agents with his brows furrowed in anger. "This place ain't no such thing as civilized. It's man so in love with greed that he has forgotten himself and found only appetites."

"And as a consequence that let's you take what you please, kill whom you please and hang the rest of us?", Milton argues, becoming louder with each word. "Who made you the messiah to these lost souls you've led so horribly astray?"

The tension in the air could be cut by a pair of scissors and you dearly wish you'd have your Schofield to hold onto now. Something tells you that this conversation is nothing but a railway that leads straight to a cliff and you're sitting in the front row.

"I'm nothin' but a seeker, Mr. Milton.", Dutch snarls with a strained voice and Milton tilts his head in disbelief.

"You ain't much of anythin' than a killer, Mr. Van Der Linde..", the agent calmly states and his eyes roam your group. "But I came to make a deal. You come with me and I give the rest of ya three days to run off, disappear and go live like human beings someplace else."

"You came for me?", Dutch asks in fake awe. "Risked life and limb in this den of lowlifes and murderers so that they might live and love? Ain't that fine?"

A low chuckle can be heard from him and some of the others join in. It does sound ridiculous when he puts it like that.

"I don't wanna kill all these folk, Dutch. Just you." The words come out of Milton like a growl almost and you straighten your back. It feels like any second now there could be a fight breaking out and you want to be ready when that happens.

Strangely enough it doesn't come to that. Instead, Dutch raises his hands in surrender and take a few more steps forward. "In that case, it would be my honor to join you. Excuse me, friends. I have an appointment to keep with-"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence as everyone who's armed with a weapon, raises it to point at Milton and Ross. You'd have done the same if you only had one.

Miss Grimshaw is the first and only one to speak up. "I think your friends should leave now, Dutch."

Some of the gang members, including you, nod approvingly after hearing her words and Milton's expression turns into a sour mask. "You're makin' a big mistake. All of you."

Dutch laughs again, but this time it's more mocking. "Yeah, dreadful.", he mutters dryly and unimpressed. "We have got somethin'. Somethin' to live and die for. How awful for us, Mr. Milton. Stop followin' us and we'll be gone soon."

"I'm afraid I can't and when I return I'll be with 50 men.", he declares in a raised voice and gestures towards every single one of you. "All of you will die! Run away from this place, you fools! Run!"

Lenny has heard enough. He grabs the man by his arm and Milton yanks it back as if he got offended. "Get your damn hands off of me, boy.", he hisses through gritted teeth and pushes, together with Ross, his way through the group to leave.

Only after they're out of your sight do you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding and you shoulders fall. They were an issue before this already, but now it looks like they're really pissed. It would be a mistake to doubt his promise of showing up with more men.

Your head is spinning while you listen to Dutch and Arthur talk. The rugged outlaw tells the leader something about a house just outside Saint Denis, the city that you're aiming for anyways.

Dutch barks some orders, telling Arthur and John to give the potential new hideout a quick look and asking Lenny to follow the two Pinkerton agents, just to be sure that they actually left. Before the young man can leave for the hitching posts, your fingers brush over his arm briefly and he looks at you.

"Do you maybe want a hand?", you ask, worried about him following the two men all alone. For a while he doesn't say anything, but then he nods and walks over to a wooden crate.

Lenny fishes out a rifle that you recognize as one of the weapons him and Arthur stole from Shady Belle and hands it over to you. "Might need that more than a regular revolver."

You leave the fact that you don't even own a regular revolver anymore unspoken and throw the rifle with the strap over your shoulder. As you mount Penthesilea and follow Lenny out of the camp, you throw one last look over your shoulder towards Arthur.

In the distance you spot the two Pinkertons riding north on horseback and you follow them at a safe distance. "What exactly happened at Rhodes?", Lenny asks, watching you with a curious expression. "Sean said that the entire town came for you guys."

A shiver runs down your spine at the memory and you nod. It sure was a massacre, alright. The stench of blood and gun powder is still very much prominent in your nose. "It was awful. I was over at the Gray's manor and overheard the workers mentioning an ambush."

"What were you doin' there?" He quickly puts up his hands. "Not that I'm accusin' you of anythin'! Micah said-"

"Well, Micah is full of shit.", you interrupt him harsher than you've intended and clear your throat. "I befriended this guy there. Beau. He's in love with this Braithwaite girl, but that's not important right now. I was visiting him to have a chat and that's how I overheard everything."

Lenny hums in understanding and you two fall silent again. It bugs you that Micah is talking behind your back like that. Your curiosity urges you to ask what exactly that man was saying about you, but you decide to better leave it be. Right now you have to focus on keeping an eye on the agents infront of you.

After a while you come to the conclusion that they won't linger to follow the gang, so you turn around again and Lenny leads you to Shady Belle. "You can keep the rifle by the way", Lenny tells you over his shoulder.

Your lips curl up into a grateful smile. "Thanks, that's very nice of you. I kind of lost my gun somewhere the other day."

"The one Arthur gave you?", he asks with a raised brow and you nod. You still have no idea how to break it to the outlaw, but you're almost certain that he won't take any offense.

Nevertheless, you find it a shame to lose a gift from him. It was one of your most treasured items and not only because it keeps you protected. A deep sigh rolls over your lips.

You two arrive almost at the exact same time the gang does and you see Dutch and Arthur talk next to the fountain that is located at the front. The house is huge, almost standing on par with the Gray and Braithwaite manors.

It would be nice to finally have a roof over your head, but you're assuming that not everyone will fit inside. Lenny and you make your way to the leader after hitching your horses and he turns to look at you two. "Any trouble?"

"No, Dutch.", Lenny answers and you step next to Arthur, shooting him a quick smile which he returns.

"Quite the luxurious place you got us.", you comment with a smirk and he let's out a low chuckle. Before he could answer, Dutch turns to him and motions towards his horse.

"Arthur, let's go on a ride.", he says. Arthur nods and goes to mount his Tennessee Walker, but not before brushing his fingers over the back of your hand. The brief, yet soft, touch sends a jolt through your body and you feel your heart pick up in pace.

That's also when you spot a certain red head in the corner of your eyes. Molly rushes over to the men and extends her hand. "Dutch, can we talk for a moment?"

"Not now." With that simple and short answer, they ride off and you watch Molly's expression darken in both pain and disappointment. As much as you would have liked to have a quick word with her, to comfort her maybe, there is no time.

Miss Grimshaw might just rip your head off clean if you don't get to work right about now and help set up the camp. It's a tiring task, but not something you're not used to. By now the movements for setting up the tents come to you as a practiced reflex.

After building half of them up, you stretch your back and wipe the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. Clemens Point was a hot place, but the humidity of this spot tops everything. You feel like you're in a sauna. A stinky sauna filled with mosquitoes.

Just as you're about to set up the next tent together with Kieran, you see Miss Grimshaw striding towards you, holding a marge wooden box. She shoves it into your hands and points towards the house. "These are Mr. Morgan's belongings. Would you go and set up the room for him?"

Granted, she voices it as a question, but you know better than to assume it actually is one. "Of course. Where do I put his things?"

"Oh, it's upstairs in the left corner. When you're done with this box, come down here to pick up the rest." The woman doesn't even give you a chance to respond before she's already gone off to harass Karen.

The crate is heavy, but you still manage to make it up the stairs and into the room. The house smells moldy and wet and you wonder if it actually would be better to sleep outside. Most of the wallpaper is halfway hanging off the walls or has been removed entirely.

With every step, the wood under you creaks and you push open the door to Arthur's new room with your back. An ear piercing squeak cuts through the air and with a grunt you place the box down. You walk up and down a couple times more until all of Arthur's belongings are inside.

He sure owns a lot of shit.

In a matter of minutes, you finish up the bed and a small corner for him to shave his beard at. The packages with the bullets and other weaponry stuff, you place on a higher up shelf and you push his clothing chest to the far end of his bed.

As you take out some pictures to put on the table, you spot a framed photograph of a familiar woman. Mary Linton is staring back at you and you hold it towards the sunlight, that is falling in through the windows, to get a better look at it.

You wonder how she and her brother are doing. If you'd only knew where she lives, then you could maybe write her a letter. As much as you like the woman, knowing that he still keeps a picture of her, sends a sting through your heart.

Images of seeing them together on the porch and at the train station in Valentine pass by your inner eye. How gentle they were with each other and how their eyes lingered on one another for too long to be claiming that there isn't anything more between them.

An odd, bitter feeling spreads through your chest and it takes you a moment to decipher what it is. Jealousy. Quickly you shake your head to get rid of these thoughts and put the photograph down. There is literally no reason for you to be jealous.

It's not like you're in a relationship with him. Yes, there definitely is something going on between the two of you, but you have no right to claim him. Besides, you remember how fondly Mary has spoken of him and she deserves to be happy after all she has gone through. If that someone ends up being Arthur then so be it.

You idiot. You're acting as if they're engaged, when you don't even know if you will ever see her again.

With a sigh, you continue unpacking and a small white card, falling out of one of the books, grabs your attention. The name on it strikes a cord within you and you quickly put it down.

You knew that Francis had met Arthur. Hell, he even told you about it when you came to him with the journal, but it still feels so weird. Memories of your dear friend flood your mind and you sit down on the edge of the bed.

Ever since you've gotten rid of the device, you haven't really thought about your home or any of your friends and family.

Can't believe I threw that thing into a damn river.

When Francis finds out about that, which he eventually will one way or another, you don't expect that he will be too thrilled about it. What's the worst that can happen though? No one can get to it with it being at the bottom of the river. There is a slight chance that a fish will be send through time though.

"Excuse me. Didn't know my room was bein' occupied.", Arthur jokes and you snap your head up, startled by his sudden appearance.

Quickly you get up from the bed and watch him take off his hat, placing it down on the table. "Miss Grimshaw told me to set it up."

You had no idea that you were taking so long with getting his room ready. It must have been a while of just you staring at his belongings like some creep.

"How did it go with Dutch?", you ask, watching him in curiosity and he takes off his leather jacket. The humidity seems to be affecting him quite a bit as well. Good, you don't want to be the only one sweating like a sinner in a church.

"Fine. We might know where exactly Jack is now.", he answers, leaning against the table and crossing his arms. Your face lights up after hearing the great news. "Dutch, John and I will go there tomorrow 'round noon."

Abigail has been mostly staying holed up in one of the rooms upstairs ever since the gang arrived here and you can't blame her. Her sobs can be heard throughout the entire house. In fact, everyone seems pretty shaken up by the boy's abduction.

Arthur clears his throat, ripping you out of your thoughts. "I was thinkin' we could head into the city in the mornin'. Heard you need a new gun again."

Heat rises up to your face from embarrassment. "Yes, I'm sorry that I lost the one you gave me."

"Nah, 's alright. I'll help you pick out somethin' good.", he says and you shake your head with raised hands.

"It's okay, really. You don't have to go out of your way for me."

Arthur smacks his lips in fake annoyance and takes a step closer to you. His thumbs are hooked into his weapon belt as he takes his usual stance. "It ain't a problem for me. Just wanna make sure a fine lady like you gets a fine gun."

The unexpected compliment makes you laugh and you playfully slap his shoulder with your hand. "Okay, I'll meet you tomorrow at the fountain outside then?"

"Yes, ma'am."

With this you let him get accommodated with his new room and you make your way outside to go look for your own sleeping spot. You could really use some rest now.

Taglist: @shackspossum @heloixe @abducted-cowz

[aishangotome]

[Nica Schwartz] I Can't Return to a Time Before You Part 2

Nica: Nica Schwartz, from Germany.

Nica: Birthday is March 2nd. Family is my younger brother, Ring. My curse power is to charm anyone whose hand I hold.

Nica: Special skill is... tying cherry stems with my tongue.

On the terrace seat, Nica pointed at his slightly protruding tongue with his finger and lifted the corner of his mouth. Despite his flirtatious aura, he was charming, and I almost found myself captivated.

Nica: They say people who can tie cherry stems with their tongue are good kissers.

Nica: Want to try it out?

Kate: No!

Nica: Too bad.

(...Geez!)

We entered a nearby café and started chatting, following his suggestion to get to know each other, but--.

(He says things like this from time to time, and it makes my heart skip a beat.)

Nica: What were you doing before you became a Fairytale Keeper, little Robin?

Kate: I was a letter carrier. That's why I know the streets of London quite well.

Kate: I walked a lot to deliver mail quickly.

The memory of working, which was a normal part of my life just a week ago, felt like a distant memory, and I gently sipped my tea.

Then Nica made a worried expression and said--

Nica: It must have been tough for you with such a sudden change in your environment.

Kate: Huh...?

His fingers touched my hand, which was resting on the table.

Nica: You were just working hard, and then you had the bad luck to run into Crown, right?

Nica: It's not your fault... You just happened to see something you shouldn't have.

The ring on his beautiful finger touched my fingertips, and the coldness unique to metal was transmitted to my skin, but--

(No one has ever said that to me...)

My body grew warm, and my nose tingled.

Kate: ...It's true that it might have been bad luck that I was there at that moment, on that day.

Kate: But I also think, just a little, that it might have been meant to be.

Nica: You mean it was fate?

He played with my fingers, intertwining them and poking them, but strangely, I didn't feel uncomfortable.

Kate: Because I met Crown, I was able to learn about the malicious things happening in this country.

Kate: If I hadn't met them, I would have lived my life without knowing anything.

Nica: ...You're strong, little Robin.

The finger that was stroking my ring finger stopped at its base.

When I looked up, his cat-like almond eyes were piercing me.

Nica: But I don't want my lover to see the dirty side of the world.

Nica: Since we're lovers for the day, just look at beautiful things today, okay?

His gaze pierced me, and I couldn't take my eyes away.

Kate: ...Like what, for example?

Nica: Like this.

Emma: Eh, whoa!

Just as I thought his hand had stopped playing with my fingers, a bouquet of flowers suddenly appeared from behind his back.

Kate: Where were you hiding those...? No, more importantly, when did you buy them!?

Nica: Aha, did I surprise you?

(But we haven't been apart since we came into town!)

He handed me the beautiful bouquet, and the floral scent gently tickled my nostrils, but--.

(Is there another, even nicer scent besides the flowers?)

I realized what the sensual scent was the moment the wind blew.

Nica: Whoa, it's windy today... What's wrong, little Robin? Your face is red.

(This is Nica's scent...)

The sensual scent of ylang-ylang was coming from him, and--

Kate: It's nothing... The flowers, I'm happy, thank you.

Nica: Bitte. They suit you well.

*Bitte means "you're welcome" in German.

I felt myself being drawn to Nica and hid my face behind the bouquet.

Nica: Well, since we're on a date, I have to make you happy.

Kate: I'm already happy enough, and besides...

Nica: Are you starting to enjoy being with me?

Nica said smugly, straightening his jacket collar and lifting the corners of his mouth.

Nica: I'll do something even better.

-

Kate: That was wonderful!

Nica: I'm glad you enjoyed it.

After that, he took me to see a play.

(I never told him I liked watching plays.)

While I was once again reminded of how well-informed he is, being escorted by him still made me happy...

(Nica is truly a smart and wonderful person.)

Holding the bouquet, I walked beside him, completely captivated after being escorted by him all day.

Then--

Emaciated Noblewoman: Oh my, aren't you that man from before?

(Ah, not again...)

I felt a little unpleasant when a woman called out to him, even though we weren't even lovers.

But I recognized this woman.

(This is the woman who often came to the theater with her husband.)

I had seen them having a couple's quarrel in the second-floor box seats several times, but--

(I remembered them because the things I overheard were always about him messing with other women.)

Seeing her worryingly emaciated figure, Nica whispered in my ear.

Nica: She confided in me about her troubles with her husband.

As I was feeling a bit sad about the unexpected truth that had come to light, the woman approached us.

Emaciated Noblewoman: Talking to you made me realize I can't stay with that man.

Emaciated Noblewoman: But when I asked for a divorce, he became violent... I don't know what to do anymore.

(That's terrible...)

I saw bruises on the woman's arm as she covered her face, and I couldn't help but frown in anger and disgust.

However, Nica gently took the woman's hand and said,

Nica: I can only listen to you, and I can't solve your problems, but...

He kissed the back of her hand as if to comfort her.

Nica: There are many people who find your free spirit attractive.

Nica: It's okay, be brave.

(Nica...)

As I watched them,

Emaciated Noblewoman: Yes... you're right.

The woman nodded repeatedly as if convincing herself, and Nica, releasing her hand, put his arm around my waist.

Nica: Well then, take care.

As he urged me to leave, I saw--

The woman glaring at me with an intensely angry expression.

(Did I do something?)

Nica: Little Robin.

He called me, and I looked away from the woman, letting him escort me as we started walking, but--.

Kate: ...Nica?

I looked up to see the corners of his mouth lifted.

Just as I was about to ask him why he was smiling---

???: Aaaaaaaaaah!!!

A scream from behind brought our sweet and happy time as lovers to an end.

.

.

.

Part 1 | Bitter Ending | Premium Ending

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[monstersandmaw]

I can't believe this story is 14.5k words long. These monthly stories are only supposed to be about 2-3k words long, but hey.

_

It's still June, just... I'm so sorry this didn't appear sooner, but it's a whopping 14.5k words long, so hopefully that makes up for it!

Content: at the end of their first year at the Royal Academy for the Magical Arts, the young, entitled son of the wealthiest family on the continent is partnered for an assignment with a diligent reader from a very humble background, and makes a very poor choice. Years later, after finishing their masters, the reader finds themself having to work with him again, only to find he's not quite as they remember this time around. Also featuring a naga bestie, adoptive dads, a badass dwarven professor, and a chunky cameo from the orc mage, Orrakh from a short story on Tumblr.

(Light spoilers) content warning: reader is drugged to render them unconscious, but nothing untoward happens while they're out, and it's facilitated by their friend. Nsfw: reader gives a blowjob in a sort of semi-public place, and receives oral in return back in private.

Wordcount: 14,565

Extract:

Ambient magicka crackled and coalesced around you, becoming little flashes of light in the air as you strode down the navy blue corridor of the astronomy wing where you’d met your friend. “I worked my ass off for that placement, Alana, and I am not going to let some gilded turd buy his way in beside me and turn it into a farce!”

The naga’s thick, serpentine tail carved a wide swathe through the other student mages as she struggled to keep up with you, until she finally grabbed at the sleeve of your dark robe and yanked you around to face her.

“Take a breath, honey,” she said, pushing her circular, gold-rimmed glasses back up her nose and blinking moss-green eyes at you from her pretty, round face with all its myriad freckles. “From what you’ve told me, Rune is a first class shit, but you’re going to have to work with him.”

“He’s not just a shit, Alana,” you fired back through gritted teeth, aware that you were drawing a bit of an audience beneath the painted vaults of the long corridor. “He’s a rich shit who thinks he can throw money at people and just walk out with whatever he wants! That isn’t going to cut it with Magister Delfan.” The dwarven professor was notoriously impatient when it came to time-wasters, but if you got on her good side, people said she was an absolute blast.

You glowered at your best friend and tried to force down a tide of emotions and memories.

“Delfan wants actual talent,” you went on in a slightly more measured voice, “And I know from experience that Rune is a lazy, good-for-nothing arsehole. I worked with him before in first year? And what the fuck is he doing on a summer placement with Delfan when he’s not even studying her subject?” you added as the realisation hit you.

Rune, rather ironically, had only studied basic runecraft with you in your first year, but had switched subjects in his second. You hadn’t kept track of what he’d been doing in the interim years, but you knew it wasn’t Delfan’s specialism of foci and auxiliary artefacts, and their use in magical rituals.

You let out a tight, wheezing huff of breath and blinked away memories of your humiliating two week project ‘with’ him. It had cost you your friendship with your then-best friend too, and that had hurt almost more than what Rune himself had done.

“If I want the Board to consider appointing me for a research fellowship, I need to finish this placement with Delfan’s endorsement. If Rune fucks this up for me because he’s bored and wants to play the academic for a while, I’m going to ring his scaly neck and turn him into a fucking golden handbag, do you understand me? I don’t care who his father is, I swear to all the gods I’ll do it.”

Alana’s expressive face suddenly struggled to keep back her rush of amusement at the image. You saw the sparkle in her eyes and rolled your own in response, but a little of your anger drained away.

“I’m sorry,” Alana snickered, “But at least you’d get a luxury handbag out of it?”

You caught her laughter and your frustration disintegrated around you like a shattered potion flask.

Still giggling, Alana put her hand on your shoulder and squeezed it as she met your gaze. “You’ll be fine. Delfan is a hard-ass and she’ll recognise your commitment, even if Milordy Goldypants puts in zero effort, alright?”

You snorted a laugh, hefted your leather satchel back onto your shoulder. You’d never told anyone else what Rune had done, apart from your parents and Alana, and the idea of having to work with him again made your stomach roil. The magic that had started to crystallise around you dissipated, but your memories of the dragonborn from your first year lingered all the same, and they were not pleasant ones.

When you’d been partnered with Rune before — when Magister Orrakh had called your name right after Rune’s — your heart had dropped to your boots and he’d flashed you a sharp-toothed grin across the small lecture hall. Sometimes Magister Orrakh taught in that larger hall, when he needed more space to show the full intricacy of a runic circuit and the way magicka flowed around the lines of chalk from rune to rune, but when he taught his theory classes, he preferred to use his small classroom. Unfortunately, that day’s class had been a practical session, and the tiered seating which gave the students at the back a better view of the experiment on the stone altar at the front of the room also gave you a good view of Rune lording it over you from the higher seating.

The dragonborn had been lounging near the back of the tiered seating on the end of the row, with his serrated tail dangling nonchalantly into the gangway that ran between the two halves of the auditorium. He was strikingly handsome, of course, with eyes the colour of back-lit amber flecked with pyrite, and his scales were a warm, honeyed yellow that gleamed almost opalescent in the sunlight streaming in through the clear, arched windows set high in the wall.

His tunic was a deep, pure black, but it had been embroidered with the most minute, fairy-wrought detailing that dizzied the eye if you looked too long at it, and he had whisper-thin, gold chains dripping from ornately engraved bands around his twin, ridged horns. The larger horn sat stacked atop the smaller, nestled close together at the root, and both followed the line of his skull back over his head to end in elegant, polished, gently-rounded points. He was so obnoxiously wealthy that even the delicate, gossamer chains were adorned with tiny flashing diamonds which sent minuscule rainbows dancing around the walls wherever he went.

You'd had nothing to do with him so far in your first year at the academy, having come from entirely different backgrounds.

There was no way the scion of the wealthiest family in the entire kingdom — richer even than the royal family, if rumours were to be believed — would look twice at the adopted child of a fisherman and a rat catcher from the dockland slums of the city. You’d fought for everything you’d ever got out of life, finally earning yourself a scholarship to the prestigious Royal Academy for the Study of Magical Arts. He’d probably got his father to buy his place, since he’d shown no real demonstrative abilities with magic.

Everything had been going so well for you until that fateful final presentation of the year when you’d been paired with Rune.

Read the whole 14.5k word story, with all its angst and feels and 'enemies to lovers' / redemption arc goodness right now on Patreon! Plus last month's story which was a whopping 13k words long!! (as well as all the other Patreon exclusive content, and don't forget there are also free stories up on Patreon as well!