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writefightandflightclub · 8 months

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Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter One (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Genres: a LOT of angst, some smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings here. Please note this series is NSFW / 18+ and minors or ageless blocks interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written. Posting schedule is here.

Author’s note: (If you read the original one-shot this slightly amended chapter will already be familiar to you, so I'm sorry for the initial lack of surprises. I promise though - there are many surprises from here!) Some of you may remember that this all started as an angsty smutty one shot, way back in 2020. Let’s just say, some of you really liked that story (thank you!) and a “part 2” was requested so that I could “fix” things for these two idiots (affectionate). Well, I guess part 2 took a while, because now it’s four years later, and I have written 87,000 words (ish). Oops. So, as you might infer through the accidental novel length spew, this series means rather a lot to me. It’s the longest piece of writing I have ever seen through to completion, and so, whilst it’s definitely not perfect, I am pretty proud of it! I hope with all of my little orange heart that you enjoy it, and if you do, any RBs, comments - or anything at all really - would mean the world. These two have lived in my head for four years and I will miss them, but I'm so excited to finally share them with you all! Honestly, I could say lots more, but for now I'll leave you with one more thought, which sums up this whole experience quite frankly: the characters made me do it.

Finally, I have to thank you all, lovely pocket friends, for being so supportive and encouraging the whole way. It means so much to me! Especially, I GOTTA thank the fabulous @astroboots, who has hyped this project from literally before the beginning and been so encouraging, and @foxilayde, who is an incredible cheerleader for all my hare-brained endeavours. ILY!

Word count: 9.7k for this part (it’s broken down into 3 sections, if you prefer to read in stints!).

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to the taglist if you are 18+ (or removed!). Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

You love your squad. You really do. However, if you are being honest, it can be tough being treated as “one of the boys”. You know it’s a good thing that they don’t treat you any differently - but sometimes, you have to admit you want to be seen as a woman first and a soldier second. Especially on evenings like this when testosterone and drinks are flowing freely. Evenings when you have an ache in between your thighs that, in your case, calls out for a man. Okay - calls out for Santiago “Pope” Garcia, to be specific.

“I hope you can handle something stiff going down your throat,” you announce crudely to the group, arriving to whoops of appreciation as you slide the tray of hard liquor and beers on to the lofty bar table.

The squad is celebrating a successful bust, and the relief and revelry in the air after the months-long operation is palpable.

“Cheers to that!” Frankie winks with a dumbass grin, rubbing his palms together with glee. “You’re a saviour – Pope’s taking far too long.”

Will helpfully conveys the shots and beers around the table, glasses and bottles clinking and jovial smiles rippling through the group as a direct result. Ready for a cold one, you bring the rim of your beer to your lips for an immediate swig, condensation pooling on your fingers and making you realise how close the air is in this buzzing but dingy place.

“Bottoms-up, boys,” Tom directs as he passes you a shot, earning a good-natured side-eye from you. “And bottoms-eth up-eth, Mi’ Lady,” he adds, along with a regal hand wave to match his faux Olde English tone.

“To busts!” you ‘cheers’, clinking your glasses in the centre of the table. The innuendo earns a throaty, gruff chuckle from Frankie who bumps shoulders with you, inviting you to share in the camaraderie. You give-in with a broad smile, unable -as ever- to resist Frankie’s tittering.

“Oh, hang on,” Frankie says, flitting quickly to a now unoccupied bar stool at an adjacent table (seats are in short supply tonight) and dragging it over to you.

“This for me, Catfish? How gallant.”

He grins. He knows you hate gallant. “It’s actually for Pope and his creaky knees… but you may as well make use of it while he’s pre-occupied,” Frankie chortles. You sit gratefully, your decision to wear heels after months in your beloved combat boots feeling like a definite mistake.

Speaking of mistakes...

“You fucking seeing this?” Tom asks, nodding his head over towards your squad mate, apparently simultaneously in awe of and amused by his current interaction at the bar; the very reason the drinks had been failing to materialise.

Twisting on your perch, you follow his gaze towards Santiago, eyes boring into the back of his head and his wash of grizzled curls. Involuntarily, your eyes trail over his form, the midnight blue button-down taut over his muscled shoulders as he casually props himself against the bar, jeans snug over that impossibly shapely rump. He has the barmaid rapt, eating out of his hand, all batting eyelashes and tongue slack in her mouth. Abandoned, a tray of shots sits unnoticed in front of Santiago as he lingers in conversation with her. All you can do is watch as, next, she leans over the bar brazenly, letting her thick, dark mane cascade across her ample, showcased cleavage. You can’t see Santiago’s expression as he -respectfully, you’re sure- admires her, but you can imagine it.

Occasionally, you are on the receiving end of those expressions too.

Unfortunately, Santiago has a raw talent for making… connections. Besides off-shore bank managers and corrupt lawyers, that also inevitably extends to hook-ups. He is never short of distractions. Or, apparently, you never can hold his attention for long. When you do, though? When he does notice you, he makes you feel like you are the only woman in the world, his focus so intent and unrelenting you feel like he is viewing you through a sniper scope. Like the attention might end you.

You bristle thinking about his selective interest, the dull ache between your legs intensifying.

“Never mind that deserter. Let’s celebrate without him,” you encourage to a ripple of agreement. You toss your shot back in-time with the boys and screw-up your face, shuddering in response as the spirit burns down your throat. You stick your tongue out with a “bleuch” as the aftertaste lingers.

However, your distraction doesn’t work for long, as your comrades seem determined to continue gossiping about the object of your desire.

“How does he do it?” Tom asks in disbelief, with more than a side of jealousy. He’d always given off the vibe of envying Santiago, you’d thought. “We’re all good-looking guys, man. But that little shit’s rolling in it.”

“I don’t know what it is. He’s not even tall,” Will snickers, knowing that Santiago hates being teased about his height.

Frankie interjects. “MaybeFrankie interjects. “Maybe it’s the big dick energy.”

No comment.

You’ve certainly never had any complaints about his stature. He is large enough to feel sturdy and surrounding, and small enough that you can take control of him when the mood strikes you. Oh, and you’ve certainly never had any qualms about his big dick energy… or his big dick for that matter.

Frankie chuckles again at the good-natured teasing and bumps you with his elbow. You are grateful for his easy, infectious laughter, acting like an umbrella against the moody, Santiago-shaped storm cloud which threatens above your head.

“For real though,” Tom interjects, leaning forward over the table as if he’s sharing classified intel. “Has he been getting frisky with the informant again?” His eyes travel around the table, meeting each squad member’s gaze in turn. “I feel like he’s definitely got something going on there too. Tell me I’m seeing things.”

“Luci?” Will asks, then whistles in surprise at Tom’s accusation, his brows converging. You’re not sure if he’s surprised by Santiago’s potentially compromising choices, or impressed by his unparalleled ability to pull. “That sly dog.” Perhaps it’s a little of both.

You tense. Santiago getting involved with an informant. A beautiful informant. Sounds entirely plausible, although Santiago has neglected to tell you if it is true. Besides building connections, another skillset of Santiago’s is his uncanny aptitude for mixing business with pleasure. Realistically, he can do whatever the hell he wants with whomever he wants - it is no business of yours - but, in truth, you are tired. Tired of being the one he only picks up when he has no-one else. Tired of going unnoticed the rest of the time.

“Actually,” Frankie leans forward to drop this juicy titbit of gossip into the conversation. “Luci broke it off. Requested a new contact.” He taps the side of his nose as if to indicate that he has his sources too, trying to drum up some air of mystery. “Coincidence? I think not,” he adds, tipping his head towards the continued scene at the bar.

You stiffen then in cold realisation. That’s why. That’s why he was noticing you earlier tonight. It wasn’t that he finally saw you. It wasn’t you in this dress. It wasn’t you. Yet again, he’d simply run out of distractions.

“Huh,” Tom says, looking a little too pleased with Santiago’s misfortune, swilling the dregs of his beer around absent-mindedly. “Well. He doesn’t seem devastated. It took him all of two minutes to get back on the horse.”

“Come on. You know Santi famously doesn’t get attached,” you snipe, partially serving the sentiment up as a reminder to yourself.

Santiago does have a... reputation. Honestly, you have no problem with that. There is no shame in having casual sex, after all. So long as it is safe and consensual, what does it matter? You’ve even acted as Santi’s “wing-woman” on a number of occasions. It had never been a problem; that is… it hadn’t been a problem until he started having casual sex with you.

Santiago is loyal almost to a fault in many other areas of his life. He is abundantly loyal to you, and there is no doubt in your mind that Santiago sees you as a friend first. As a soldier second. You know he respects you deeply for your sharp-mind, your humour, your straight-talking, and your lethality in equal measure. And, you also know that Santiago desires you. Or, at least, he does when it suits him. When he is paying attention. These various roles never seem to converge, though. As a friend? You and Santiago go way back. As a soldier? You’ve been on his squad longer than anyone has, since decades before you all went freelance. As a lover, though? Well, that is new. And he can’t seem to reconcile this new role with the rest of the ways he knows you.

Yes. Sure. Sometimes, Santiago desires the soft parts of you. Sees you as something other than a friend or a soldier. But you wish he would notice all of you, all at once. He sees you in fragments, like shrapnel. You wish he would piece things together. You wish he would notice you consistently. Not only when you’ve been out in the field too long, spending days bunched into hot and confined spaces, too close for comfort. Not only when hails of bullets send him reeling, searching for any kind of foothold on feeling alive. Still, over and over, you let him. You let him dip you back, with urgency - on to a mattress or a roll-mat or simply down on to the jungle floor - to thrust himself into you.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia is the man you crave. He gives it to you good. He makes you feel like a woman. Of course, there is no one particular way to be or to feel like a woman. There are infinite ways. For you though, very specifically, it is simple. It feels like Santiago desiring the soft parts of you which lay secreted under your tactical gear and your tough façade. It feels like him kissing you, soft lips and abrasive stubble. Strong hands and that muscled body writhing in a mess of breath and flesh. In those moments, you are a soldier least of all. Free of any mission, you become unadulterated; reckless abandon. You cease to be clipped and tactical, precise and lethal, and instead you become a soft, fluid thing beneath him.

Every time you arrive back in the city though, distractions abound. Santiago apparently ceases to desire you. Notice you. You had wrongly believed that tonight felt different. Something about the cool but heady night air. The way he was looking at you in this dress during your walk to the bar to meet the rest of the group. The way his hand lingered on your back as he guided you over to the table. But it mustn’t have been so. It must have been wishful thinking, that’s all.

You’ve done an increasing amount of wishful thinking, lately, it seems.

Too much.

You sigh deeply. You don’t even realise you have zoned out from the group’s banter until Santiago arrives back with the tray of drinks -and no doubt one more phone number in his contacts- by which point, you are riled up enough to grab the shot of tequila right off the tray and down it without thinking, salt and lime be damned.

“Woah, cariño. Feeling spirited tonight? Not wanna wait for the rest of us?” His smile is broad and easy and annoying as hell and suddenly you are adrift.

“Nah, I’m done waiting, Santi,” you bite. He doesn’t catch the double-meaning in your words, because of course he doesn’t. Why would he?

Your skin flushes with instant heat as a result of his presence- definitely a recently acquired response. And so, you hastily dismiss your leather jacket, revealing a strappy, red, form-fitting dress beneath. Your appearance even earns a low whistle and murmur of approval from your buddies.

“Someone’s gonna get lucky in that cute little number,” Frankie says pointedly, even as he’s staring curiously at Santiago staring at you. Maybe he’s on to you two.

You smile, happy -as ever- to take a little flattery. Plus, you do find it hilarious to watch these guys squirm when they remember that you do, in fact, have a body concealed underneath all your tactical gear.

“Well I won’t get lucky if you chumps keep staring down every man who looks at me,” you complain, already having clocked the defensive perimeter which has formed around you, simply from the way they have positioned themselves.

The squad are protective of you, unnecessarily, and you simultaneously chide and love them for it.

“Big men protec’, chiquita,” Frankie teases, puffing out his biceps and chest like a gorilla. He says it knowing fine well you could take out any one of them if you wanted.

You hear the warm rumble of Santiago’s laugh next to you too, chiming in time with yours, his body closer than you’d realised as he dishes the remaining shots out. “Please!” he scoffs, casually slinging his arm around the back of your bar stool, the shot primed in his other hand. “You know damn well she doesn’t need protection!”

“She’s gonna need protection when she gets laid,” Will quips, causing Tom to almost snort beer out of his nose in amusement and Frankie to high-five him from across the table. You would scold him but you’re laughing too, even as you roll your eyes good-naturedly at their ‘bro’ humour.

You drop your head towards Santiago as the others continue snickering like a pack of hyenas, the alcohol clearly having gone to their heads already. That’s what they get for drinking on empty stomachs. You and Santiago’d had the foresight to hit up a first rate food truck on the route across town, like sensible people.

“Dance with me, Pope?” you ask, giving him a subtle yet seductive bat of your eyes.

“For the love of God, Pope. Leave some women for the rest of us,” Tom pleads -partially in jest, you’re sure- as Santiago curtly nods, not knowing quite what you’re up to but taking your hand anyway.

“Ok. I hear you. Let’s ditch these losers,” Santiago joshes, smiling as he gets a predictable rise out of his squad.

It isn’t so unusual for you two to dance together when you visit bars, so it doesn’t earn too much suspicion from the group (plus, you’re military - you two have been pretty damn good at hiding your hook-ups, covering your tracks). Dancing with you might undo the careful ground-work Santiago had laid with the barmaid just a moment ago, however. Even so, Santiago opts to follow you into the sweaty throng of people on the floor all the same, your fingers loosely twined with his as you lead him. You find a relatively private spot, away from the prying eyes of the squad, and come to a standstill.

You turn into Santiago at the last available moment, meaning he ends up disconcertingly close. Almost chest-to-chest with you.

“Put your hands on me,” you command, a little more throaty than intended. You sling your arms around his shoulders, fingertips brushing at the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck. Santiago hesitates, but following a search of your eyes he plants his hands firmly onto the small of your back. You instantly feel the broadness and the warmth of him through the thin fabric of your dress. Those lethal hands. The hands that have pulled triggers and grenade clips. Choked the life out of assailants. Those lethal hands that have traced gently down your back as you laid bare beside him, killing you softly.

You let his hands rove over your body, wherever he wants to put them. Apparently, he wants to put them everywhere he can, like it’s a compulsion to touch you. He trails his hands up and down your back, ghosts them over the globes of your ass, snakes them down to the lip of your dress where his fingertips brush against your bare thighs, tacky with heat. And, after wandering, his hands come to rest low-slung on your hips, exactly where he likes to grab you when he thrusts into you. He gives you a subtle squeeze there, and the feel of him floods back to you. You are reminded of the way, when you’re with him, your own lethal hands are finally occupied by something other than battle. Of the times when you relinquish any preoccupation with victory, in favour of reaching perfect surrender. The times when your heart throbbing in your throat feels like safety instead of danger.

His hands on you feel... natural. You move together symbiotically. Your bodies are always, easily in sync. On the battlefield, on the dance floor, in the bedroom. Always moving as a team. After so long side-by-side, it would be hard to exist in a manner to the contrary. It would be hard to exist without him at all.

Will be hard.

You let Santiago press against you as you sway together on the darkened dancefloor, gyrating and slinking your hips in time with the music. You feel him half-harden against you and his grip on your hips tightens, a feeble but gruff sound involuntarily escaping his lips and causing a coil to tighten in the pit of you.

You think Santiago looks into your eyes meaningfully then. With something deep and unspeakable. Though that must simply be the wishful thinking you’ve become so practised at, and so, you immediately dismiss the thought, even as you nestle your mouth closer to his ear in order to speak. As your breath fans over the corded column of his neck you could swear he engorges further. And, the ache between your legs becomes almost unbearable at the spike of his cologne in your nostrils, his familiar scent curling within you.

Santiago doesn’t smell like spice or musk or woodsmoke. Not to you. To you he smells like memories and possibilities - a heady paradox. Like your past and future. His scent inspires a quickening within you. Something under your skin is spurred into motion, tending toward collision. Yet at the same time, his scent curls in you and feels like… a stilling too. Like someone entirely arrived at a place so familiar that they forget ever having arrived at all and can’t imagine leaving.

You dismiss it. You try. You fracture the moment. You must, before you collide.

“I hear you’ve had some informant woes? I hope to God we got the intel.” You feel him tense instantly against you.

“Uh-huh. I got it.” Santiago‘s not really listening. Instead, he’s dropping his eyes to your body pressed up against his own, the heels of his hands now kneading into your hips. “You look good.” His voice is a husk in the shell of your ear as he leans into you, ensuring he can be heard over the music.

“Good for Luci, breaking it off though.” You dismiss his compliment, barely able to obscure the animosity in your tone despite all attempts to sound casual.

He snaps back from you an inch or so, enough to look you directly in the eyes. You think that maybe, he looks almost disappointed. “Jealous?” he probes, ticking-up one eyebrow.

He knows you far too well. Yet, despite his on-the-mark observation, the question makes you feel called-out and so, your next tack becomes unnecessarily cruel. Vengeful almost. “He’s getting there.”

“What?” Santiago asks in evident confusion, his hands slipping back-up to the neutral area of your back as the mood slips away too.

“The tall drink of water at 9 ‘o’ clock. Guy who’s been eyeing me all night. Doesn’t he look like he wants his hands on me instead of yours?” You know that you sound cruel, and petty, and the words feel bitter, like salt and lime in your mouth. You’ve said them all the same though. It’s already done.

Santiago’s jaw clenches, eyes flicking subtly over as he rotates you to get a better look at your target.

“He does,” he states, with a thin attempt at neutrality, his neck roped with tension as his eyes skim over the other man.

“Great. Then thanks for the dance, Wingman. You’re relieved.”

Santiago puffs out air, his jaw clenching and eyes darkening.

You tick an eyebrow up at him. “What’s wrong? You jealous, Santiago?”

Then, you saunter towards the bar, where the other man is stood. He very blatantly gives you the once over, evidently liking what he sees. You lean in with a flirty smile, letting the image of an aggrieved Santiago dissolve into the throng of people as you allow yourself to be entirely distracted.

You are done waiting.

You want to be noticed, and this handsome man in front of you is certainly providing you with his undivided attention.

***

Later, Santiago watches you prepare to leave with the other man, disgruntled and forlorn. He’s watched you all night via snatched glances through the crowd. Watched the man laugh at your jokes, watched him work up the courage to brush your arm. He watched you eventually move in for the kiss, your eyes turning hungry as you pulled away, teeth biting down on that delicious, pillowy lip of yours.

The bar having quietened down a little by now, Santiago sits in a booth opposite Tom and Frankie, Will having found his own company for the remainder of the night as well. Santiago’s head is propped on his elbow, a half-empty beer nestled in his other hand. His buddies’ eyes needle him as you toss a casual salute over to the table, your hook-up leading you out by the hand and your eyes shining gleefully.

“What?” Santiago hisses defensively, as Frankie continues to stare knowingly at him from the opposite side of the table.

Frankie’s head simply shakes in amusement. “Nothing. Only… when in the hell are you gonna figure out it’s her you really want, huh?”

“She’s just a friend,” Santiago bristles, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, hunching in on himself.

“And a fuck-buddy,” Tom ventures.

Santiago looks down, taking a masking swig of his beer. “You know about that?”

“Didn’t until just now. But thanks a bunch for confirming,” Tom replies in a self-satisfied tone, earning a chuckle and a bump on the shoulder from Frankie.

“Well… fuck.” Santiago sighs, his face becoming pinched.

“I already knew,” Frankie states. “Christ. You’re loud enough, man. Hard to keep the secret that you’re nailing one of the squad when we’re camped out in, like, 3ft of jungle.”

Santiago absent-mindedly picks at the label on his bottle with his thumb. “Don’t talk about it like that, man. It’s not… Fuck.”

Frankie just looks across at him in sympathy, Santiago’s reaction revealing more than he probably cared to about the true extent of his predicament.

You’d risen through the ranks together. You’d been through a lot. Everyone on the squad knew Santiago was your ride or die and you his. You had each other’s backs. Had tended each other’s bullet wounds for Christ’s sake. Your friendship and the trust between you both -on the battlefield and off it- was deep and unshakeable.

“And you don’t want more than that?” Tom probes.

Despite being indoors, Santiago picks up his baseball cap from the seat and pulls it down over his eyes then, in an attempt to shield himself from this line of questioning.

“What ‘else’ is there? There’s not much time for romance in between a hail of bullets.”

“Maybe.” Tom tips his head, contemplatively. “But you’re not getting any younger, Pope. How many years do your Goddamn knees have left in them?” He lets that one simmer for a moment, before nodding pointedly towards the door through which you had retreated. “You could do a lot worse, you know.”

“She could do a lot better,” Frankie interjects, earning a snigger from Tom and causing Santiago to huff, expression turning surly. Frankie holds his hands up defensively then. “Look, you do you, man. I’m just saying... I’m sure you’re having a great time getting your dick wet all over the continent… but if you don’t step up soon? You might regret it.”

Santiago whips his eyes towards his buddy, gaze interrogative and piercing. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing in particular,” Frankie shrugs, searching Santiago’s eyes with equal vigour. Santiago drops his gaze first, feeling exposed.

Frankie kicks his buddy gently under the table. “Come on, hermano. Use your words. Share your feelings.”

Frankie’s words may sound mildly taunting, as ever, but Santiago recognises the invitation to open up is genuine. He purses his lips, brows knitting together as he resists it, picking through his choice of words carefully before he allows them out of his mouth. He massages his palm over his roughened jaw and it rasps like sandpaper. “I don’t even know if she wants more.”

“Are you kidding me, man?” Tom responds in amusement. “The guy who can get information out of a freakin’ stone, make any informant sing, ‘doesn’t know’ if she wants more? That’s what’s stopping you? A fucking intel issue?”

Frankie titters again, narrowing his eyes at Santiago and trying to figure him out. “He’s scared,” the man accuses, before his tone softens involuntarily. “That it?”

Santiago takes an idle swig of his beer, polishing off the dregs before shrugging his jacket on, jaw twitching in irritation.

“Oh shit, he’s moping! He’s moping now. Can’t handle the truth,” Tom mocks.

“Come on, Santiago,” Frankie reasons. “We just want things to work out for you. You two are a good match- any chump can see that. Heh. Except maybe you.”

Santiago doesn’t respond. Instead, he simply continues his silent preparations to leave, stuffing his wallet and keys into his jean pockets.

“Plus- there are a bunch of reasons we’d like you off the market,” Tom teases. “More women for the rest of us. Golden opportunity to tease you for being so whipped.” Tom flashes a shit-eating grin up at his friend.

Nodding gently, lips twisted in a pout and refusing to rise to it, Santiago tips his head towards his squad members. “Gentlemen,” he offers by way of farewell, before starting towards the door.

“Want me to walk you home safe, chiquito?” Frankie calls.

“I’m not going home.” Santiago turns and gives the two men an affectionate middle finger before beelining toward the exit.

“You’re not going over to her right now, are you? Pope? Santiago? That’s not what we... She’s gonna be pissed, man. Think this through!” Tom shouts after him, but it’s futile. Santiago has already swept out into the night, leaving Tom and Frankie to exchange helpless glances.

There is a beat.

Then: “I bet the bastard gets laid as well,” Frankie snorts.

“Right?” Tom hums softly in agreement. “If anyone can turn up to a girl’s apartment while she’s banging another guy and still end up getting down? It’s that little shit, no word of a lie.”

There is a moment of silence as the pair sip their drinks and contemplate what Santiago has, precisely, which causes women to become so enamoured with him.

“Maybe it’s his ass?” Tom offers, finally.

Frankie clicks his fingers. “Ah. You’re probably right. That ass won’t quit.”

Meanwhile, Santiago steps out into the fresh air, the slight bite of it taking the edge off his alcohol buzz.

His thoughts are overwhelmed with you. Have been overwhelmed with you. In truth, Santiago is finding it harder and harder to keep this up. Especially whenever it is just the two of you, he finds it harder and harder to resist you.

It is typically easier in the city, where there are plenty of distractions. He is grateful for it - other people he can tangle with to take his mind off of you. In the city, it is easier to push that side of you out of his mind and to fall back into the clear-cut ways. The way it used to be before the lines had become blurred. Easier to compartmentalise his feelings for you. A friend first. A soldier second. A lover, only intermittently.

Santiago was determined not to let everything bleed into one, because once those barriers, those delineations fell, he was convinced he would never be able to rebuild them.

Most of all, he was convinced he wouldn’t want to.

The thing is... the “distractions”? They never really worked for long. You are the only woman for him, in truth. And for all it might be crazy, he is headed towards your apartment right now to find out if you feel the same way. To find out if you want more. To find out if you see him as more than a friend and a soldier and a lover, or if you see him completely, and all at once.

To find out if he is everything to you, like you are to him.

***

There is a loud rap on your door and it tears you, regretfully, from the tangle of limbs you are in. When the knock becomes more insistent, you apologise to the man blissed out beneath you and extricate yourself from his embrace, hastily cloaking yourself in a sheet and traipsing through your temporary apartment – home for the time being. Adrenalin piqued, you peer through the spyhole, relief flooding you when you see who it is.

“Santi? What the fuck?” you ask, opening the door to him and pressing the sheet to you with your remaining hand.

“Hi,” he says casually, the brim of his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes.

“I’m in the middle of something,” you bite, emphatically. “What in the hell do you want?” you hiss at him, keeping your volume low.

“You,” he says plainly.

Santiago looks you over; your flushed face, plumped lips and blatant post-orgasm glow. His jaw visibly clenches.

“What?!” you exclaim in confusion.

“I want you.”

You tear his blasted hat off to examine his eyes for sincerity, pushing it into his chest all bunched-up. He hastily stuffs it in his jacket pocket. Eyes narrowed, you appraise him a moment longer, clicking your tongue in disbelief at the nerve this man has before abruptly closing the door on him.

“Bye, Santi.”

“Wait!” he pleads, jamming his foot in the door and muscling through.

“What in the hell are you doing?!” you hiss again, backing-up and almost tripping over your sheet, which Santiago now has his mucky boots all over.

By this time, your hook-up for the night has heard the commotion and blustered through the dark apartment -in the nude- to ward off your supposed intruder. Your companion is bigger, sure, but he certainly shouldn’t mess with Santiago. He wouldn’t fare well at all.

You raise your hand to diffuse the situation. “It’s ok, he’s a friend. Sometimes,” you add with a tilt of your head.

Your companion’s face flashes with recognition as Santiago emerges from out of the shadows. “Oh. It’s you, from the bar. Here I was thinking we’d gotten rid of you already.”

Santiago simply glowers with bubbling aggravation at the man, who has the cheek to just stand there with his fucking schlong out, entirely undeterred. Santiago puffs his chest out, making himself larger.

“Please.” Santiago addresses you, tearing his eyes away from the man. “Can we talk?”

You sigh, unable to believe that you’re being stupid enough to agree to his demands. You turn back to the man you were enjoying being on top of until a moment ago. “Can you give us five minutes? I’m so sorry. I’ll be back.”

“Well - she might not be back,” Santiago suggests, and you glare at him, irritated.

The man looks between you and Santiago in disbelief before addressing you only. “Sure,” he says with a languid, sultry smile, ignoring Santiago entirely. “I’m willing to wait if we get to continue the fun we were having.”

“Oh he’s a cheeky fuck,” Santiago grates, his whole body tense, and you quickly grab his elbow to bundle him into the kitchen before he can do any further damage.

“You’re the cheeky fuck, Santiago.” Apparently that’s your type. You vaguely wonder why you keep subjecting yourself to this, but you certainly don’t wish to pull on that thread too hard. Not right now.

As you release his elbow, Santiago comes to face you in the narrow slip of a kitchen.

“Well? What in the hell are you doing here?” you rage whisper at him, folding your arms across yourself and tapping your foot impatiently on the tiled floor.

Santiago simply squares up to you, his expression formidable, unphased. His dark eyes trail over you again, snagging on the places where the sheet drapes over the contours of you. You are suddenly uncomfortably aware of how naked you are beneath it. “Told you. I want you.”

Normally, those words were enough. But not any longer. You scoff. “I know all about how you want me, Pope. Half-heartedly. You want me when it suits you. When you can’t have me. When there’s no-one else around for you to want.”

It is his turn to scoff now. “Casual is what you wanted. You gonna throw that back in my face now?”

You sigh, tiredly, refusing to get embroiled in this. This is all meaningless. He can twist things and make excuses all he likes, but Santiago is a man of action. If he wanted you? Really wanted you? He wouldn’t let a Goddamn technicality stand in the way.

You don’t have the energy for excuses. For this conversation. You’ve waited too long for Santiago to even realise there is anything worth talking about. So, instead of fighting back, you let it go.

“I’m done, Santi. I’m out.”

Your words feel like a relief to you, after bottling this up since you came to the decision. The relief extends through your body as you sag backward to lean up against the cold fridge door, that too relieving on your hot, sheening skin.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Santi dismisses your assertion instantly. He tended towards tunnel vision about some things. Just because he didn’t want out, he tended to assume that was true for everyone else. He was a connector, an enabler, and these factors combined meant the squad had stayed together a long time; far longer than it ever should have, like this time. He’d pulled his “retired” buddies back in, yet again.

“I’m for real, Santi,” you say in a small voice. “It’s already done.”

A veil of shock then betrayal passes over his face as the truth of your words sinks in. He takes a step back from you, as if he’s been sucker punched in the gut. His brows knit together and he looks down at the floor. “When?”

“Three weeks.” You figure you may as well rip the band-aid off in one go.

He turns his mouth down at the corners and slowly nods his head, doing an admirable job of containing whatever it is he is feeling, for the moment, while he gathers his intelligence. Mission above emotion, as ever. Santiago looks at the world through a scope sometimes, and he often forgets about the big picture. It always surprises you how a man so perceptive and attentive to detail -when he chooses to apply it- could fail to notice something right under his nose.

“Where?”

“Home. Desk-job, by the ocean. Private firm and a nice salary too. What’s not to love?” You add the extra information in an effort to detract from the thing you least wanted to face. Home is far. Far from him.

“Fuck,” Santiago breathes, finally looking up at you. “Because of me?”

You bristle again. “You arrogant piece of....” you sigh heavily, biting your lip and reminding yourself it isn’t worth it to grow aggravated. Plus, there’s a kernel of truth in his question, after all. You gather yourself before speaking again. “I stayed so long because of you, Santi. But I’m leaving for me. I’m tired of waiting.” Maybe he’ll notice you when you’re gone, you think. Maybe he’ll want you then.

“You can’t go. Someone with your skillset will be impossible to replace at short notice. How the hell am I supposed to keep the operation afloat without you?”

You shake your head softly, smiling in disbelief, his response confirming so many of your reasons behind going. Always focussed on the mission.

“Frankie’s looking into someone, actually. He knows a guy. He’s not as good as me, of course, but-”

“-You told Frankie?!” You can hear in his voice that the revelation hurts him. He has always been your confidant. But hey, things change, even if Santiago never does.

“Yeah, well,” you say thinly, through your teeth. “There’s plenty you don’t tell me, Santi.” You look at him pointedly. “Besides, I think you’ll manage. You always seem to find someone to meet your… needs. Don’t you?”

Santiago brings one arm up beside your head, leaning against the fridge with his palm, his dark eyes turbulent and boring into yours. “You’re the one who’s got some guy in there. What do you want from me, huh?”

He crowds you, but you can’t bring yourself to push him back. Instead, you languish more readily up against the fridge door, your grip on your sheet becoming less and less sure.

“Oh! That’s your fucking grand gesture? You came here to ask me what the hell I want from you?” Your passions rise, heart thrumming in your chest. You try and tell yourself it’s entirely from anger and nothing at all to do with his proximity. That it’s certainly not because of that look he’s giving you.

Speaking of proximity, Santiago’s now close enough to smell the other man’s scent on you. He’s leaning into you, breath ragged and desire clouding his eyes, even as you still bear the signs of being ravaged by another between your legs. Or perhaps… because of it.

Even as you stand here, like this, signs of another lover temporarily strewn over your person, it’s ludicrous to think another could claim you. You belong to Santiago. It’s Santiago who is indelibly written onto your body, the map of scars telling the story and you and him. The scar on your shoulder from a bullet wound, the scar on your calf from an off-road collision, the marks all over you serve as a reminder of the times Santiago has been there for you. Pressed his lethal hands to you to keep your lifeforce from ebbing away. He is your ride or die, and your body knows it.

Equally, as he stands there fully clothed, you know that his body similarly hosts a constellation of scars from all your shared moments; in the field, on missions, over continents. One of you could not hope to be read -to be understood- without the other. Your bodies would forever move through the world as a team, as a pair, even if you left his side.

You were each the key to cartographing each other’s lives. To imagine that the hickey on your neck or the slick between your legs could begin to compare to the way Santiago had marked you as his was almost comical.

“You really need a grand gesture to know I care about you?” You know what he’s asking. Is running into a hail of bullets for you not enough? Hasn’t he proven himself to you time and time again?

“Santi. I don’t doubt you care about me. I could never. I just… I don’t feel like you know yet what you want from me. And I can’t wait anymore for you to make up your mind.” You shrug. “I don’t know. I just feel like… like sometimes you don’t even see me because I’ve always been right in front of you.”

Santiago looks at you, pained, expression weighted, as if he can’t find the words to tell the story of you. But your bodies are not stories. They are maps, and maps are to be understood through being travelled. That’s why, when his hand slips to you shoulder to slowly trace the scar there, it makes sense. It is understood without words as his fingers journey over your skin, a varied terrain of memories flashing through Santiago’s eyes. His touch retracing years in only moments.

“I see you,” he insists, his voice a husk, his calloused fingertips trailing over your smooth, delicate skin. Making you feel weak. Making you want to become a soft, fluid thing beneath him. Oh, he’s looking at you now. There’s that attention that feels like it might end you. You commune wordlessly, breath quickening, that pulse of desire tending toward collision, the stillness of having arrived home as he touches you.

“I see you,” he purrs, his hand moving to your sheet, gently tugging it away from your grasp and giving you ample opportunity to protest. But you don’t. You don’t protest. You are symbiotic with him. You move as a team, and you can’t help but want to merge. Maybe that’s why you let him tug the sheet from your grasp, fabric pooling at your feet. Maybe it’s the ache between your legs. Maybe it’s because you know he gives it to you good.

Santiago exposes you completely to him, eyes then hands hungrily trailing down over your contours. His fingers grip your hips firmly as his mouth sinks into your neck, his hot breath fanning over you as he speaks.

“I see you, baby.”

Your arms are still pinned to your sides as you pretend that somehow you can resist your urges, despite being naked and needy and oh so ready in front of him.

“Fuck you, Santiago,” you breathe, voice trembling, and you know exactly what he’s doing as his lips and his teeth snag angrily over your skin. Reclaiming you. Marking you as his. And instead of pushing him away, you pull him closer to you. Instead of recoiling you arch your body against him, breasts pushing up against him, the cold metal of his chain harsh against your skin. The sturdy mass and heat of him beneath his clothes only highlighting how exposed and vulnerable you feel, your desire entirely on display like a flare in the dark.

His mouth has already ravaged your neck, your collarbone, his stubble abrasive against you, leaving a pleasant burn in its wake. His cologne is the only scent enveloping you now. Then, his hands rove over you, everywhere, like he’d wished they could in the bar, your skin still cloying, tacky with sweat. He paws at every bit of you as if to reinstate his claim on you. Your breasts, your ass, your hips, your thighs. He isn’t gentle. His hands showing their strength in a way they haven’t with you before now. He tongues your salty skin and the way his mouth punishes you is bitter like lime, foreshadowing his words.

“Did he make you come?” he asks into your neck, his hand slipping between your legs and finding you wet and welcoming. “Did he?”

“Yes,” you breathe, his voice commanding enough that you want to answer. Your face contorting as if in pain as Santiago continues to grind two girthy fingers over your folds. Your companion had made you wet, but nothing like this. All he’s doing is feeling you, coating himself, and Santiago has you drenched already; you can feel it slick against your inner thighs as you tremble under the weight of yourself, suddenly so heavy with lust that you can barely stand.

Your arms wind around his neck to steady yourself and he pins you between him and the fridge, your fingers inching up through the buzzed hair at his neck, nails trailing over his scalp and up into his grizzled curls as you finally become molten against him. Your hands fist in his hair and you tug his head up towards your lips, earning a grunt from him as pain needles across his scalp. The sound is growled into your mouth as his snarled kiss crashes against yours.

He’s frustrated, and he’s jealous, and he wants to show you that you’re his. What’s more, you want him to show you. Oh, how you want him to.

You shudder against the sudden blunt pressure of two of Santiago’s fingers at your entrance, your need urgent and a tightness building so immediately in your core. He pushes himself more firmly up against you, pinning you between his taut body and the fridge. His tongue ravages your mouth and your pleas for him to touch you become incoherent sounds that you work into him in return. His kiss is rough, his teeth scathing you, lips on yours in a crush, stubble grating at your chin and cheeks as he opens himself up as if to devour you. Then, he sucks your bottom lip in between his own and clamps his teeth down until you howl against the sting of it, bucking your body against the pain as you cry into his mouth.

With the bucking of your hips, you grind yourself against his hand, and Santiago barely needs to move as you willingly spear yourself on his fingers. He leaves you wanting though, allowing you just an inch of him when he has so much more to give. Already, the ridges of him against you are providing divine friction, his fingers curling and scissoring inside you, but he leaves you begging for more. Begging him to plunge himself all the way in.

“Did you think about me when you took him? Did you use him and wish it was me between your legs?” Santiago’s voice is like gravel in the shell of your ear, and his words curl into the depths of you. With them, he thrusts his fingers angrily into your heat, driving himself in all the way to the knuckle. Your eyes practically roll back into your head as he thrusts harshly and asks you again, even more insistent. “Did you?”

“Yes,” you admit, in a broken voice, tugging him closer to you, crushing your lips onto the column of his neck, tugging the collar of his shirt aside until you can bite down into the meat of his shoulder, stifling your moans there as his pace intensifies. His fingers are curling relentlessly towards your sweet spot and your walls are already fluttering against him. The heel of his hand is rocking against your excruciatingly sensitive clit, applying steady rolls of pressure as his fingers delve into you. His watch strap digs into your pubic bone but for some reason it only adds to the heightened sensations coursing through you.

“Do I make you feel good? Do I make you feel better with my fingers than he could with his whole body, huh?”

His words practically make you sob into him. It’s dirtier than you’ve ever heard him talk. It’s more intimate and further from friendship than anything you’ve done with him so far. Yes, you’ve fucked but this… this is something else. This is you admitting you are entirely his. This feels simultaneously more like battle and more like surrender than it ever has. And you wholly surrender.

You moan. You moan out loud despite the fact you shouldn’t. Despite the fact there’s still another man in the apartment who you had underneath you only moments ago.

“Are you gonna come on my fingers – show me who you belong to?”

You agree. You agree wholeheartedly.

Santiago pulls back just to watch you. To see the pleasure play over your face, both the overabundance of it and dearth of it as every touch satisfies yet has you craving more. You see a prideful glow in his eyes that he has you this wrecked, mewling and writhing on him as he adds a third finger into your wetness and pumps himself hard in and out of you.

“Fuck,” he intones, his voice hollowed-out. “You’re fucking drenched. Wettest I’ve ever felt.” God. You can hear how wet you are.

In dire need of some relief himself, Santiago presses his clothed, hardened length against your hip as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. Even through the substantial fabric of his jeans you can feel the thick, hard promise of him as he begins to grind himself against you, low and guttural moans escaping his sweet lips. The fact that he’s so fucking desperate for you, that you have made him hot enough to get off from only this has a knot tightening in the pit of you as you watch him start to unravel alongside you.

“Fuck, Santi,” you moan into the air, not even caring that there’s someone else in the apartment. Past caring about anything at all except your need for him to keep touching you, his fingers filling you up so well.

“That’s it, baby. Say my name, say you’re mine.”

Santiago is still grinding his clothed length against you, even as his fingers overflow with your essence. He dips his head into the crook of your neck and the growl he emits fans over your skin. Makes it sound as if he’s about to lose it too, simply from this. His spare hand dips down to collect one of your breasts and he lifts your nipple into his mouth, sucking and tonguing and biting the peak of you, squeezing you -not gently- as you topple towards your end.

He continues to grind against you, and the thought of him exploding in his pants for you tips you over the edge, his name tumbling from your lips over and over as you flutter and clench around his fingers. The feeling spreading outward through your body like an explosion, leaving you levelled, a resounding buzz reaching all the way to your extremities and whiting out your vision like a flashbang. Your fingers tangle in Santiago’s curls as you spasm against him, his fingers eking every last drop of pleasure from you - as though he knows his way around you better than anyone could.

At the feel and sound and sight of you coming undone, his hardened length grinds on you with renewed vigour, a wracked and disbelieving moan stuttering through him as he loses it without you having laid a finger on him. His body becomes stiff against you as he pulses his seed out beneath his clothes. Something about him being so lost in desire for you that he’d make a mess of himself like that has you clenching with deep, generous aftershocks, adrift with the thought of his hardened length pearling with his warm release.

Santiago’s head settles into the crook of your neck as you both come down together, even as his fingers continue to lazily pulse in and out of you - just to feel you. Your arms lovingly cradle his head, fingers tangling in his curls, your lips finding their way to his hairline to plant gentle kisses there. Your Santiago. In your arms.

You stay there a moment until your jagged breathing and thrumming heart settle, enjoying him languorously touching you. With a shiver of contentment, he withdraws from your heat, wrapping his unsullied hand around your waist to pull you closer.

For a moment, everything is in soft focus, like the break of day before an alarm. You close your eyes against his touch and breathe him in as he whispers lovingly into your neck, planting light kisses where a moment ago his puckered lips left angry bruises.

“Fuck. I love you. I love you. I adore you. I need you.”

When you don’t respond though, Santiago stills against you, lifting his head to look you dead in the eyes. He finds them tearing in the corners.

Your voice begins weakly. “You love me, Santi. But do you want a life with me? A life outside of the mission, outside of all of this?”

He brushes his thumb softly over your jawline. “I know I haven’t been all in. But I swear it to you, baby... you’re my end game. It’s just, we’re not there yet. We’re too deep in this shit. If we can get one more of Lorea’s deputies then maybe-”

“-Sure,” you say sadly, the word heavy and the intimacy of the moments prior dissipating quickly. You know fine well what “one more” means. You dip to collect your sheet from the floor and tighten it around yourself, using the motion in a vague attempt to distract both Santiago and yourself from the tears threatening more violently in your eyes now.

The footsteps you hear approaching the kitchen are a further welcome distraction, and you surreptitiously clean off Santiago’s hand on the already soiled sheet before your first companion of the evening (now fully clothed) pops his head around the doorframe.

“I’m just gonna leave,” he interjects awkwardly, and your cheeks flush in humiliation. You’re sure one day, far into the future, this may be a funny story you tell, but, right now? It feels more than a little mortifying.

“I’m so sorry. I…” You reach for a more robust apology but come up with nothing, far too aware that Santiago’s eyes continue to needle you. What are you going to do? Tell him it was fun? And so, since you opt to leave it hanging, your companion simply pumps his eyebrows once before striding smoothly out of your apartment. You jump slightly as you hear the door slamming shut behind him, evidently feeling a little on edge despite being wrung out so recently by bliss.

Your eyes linger on the doorframe a little too long, staring at nothing except the now vacated space. You’re not ready to turn your attention back to Santiago quite yet, and you’re much less ready to deal with what will follow.

It turns out, you don’t even have to look back at him, because your cowardice says it all for you. Instead, a small voice escapes him.

“You’re still gonna go, aren’t you?”

You look at him then, and you see a sadness blooming in his eyes which is so heart-breaking that you're half-glad when tears gather in your own, blurring-out the sight of him. His pain always was too much for you to look at.

Your gladness is short-lived however, as your own tears begin to spill out of you. You wipe the deluge away with the heel of your hand, but the tears are coming quicker than you can mop them up. Your chest shakes as you speak your next words.

“I love you, Santi. Believe me. I love you. But it’s always ‘just one more’.” One more woman. One more mission. One more way to break your heart. “You’re living like... like you can get to the end of the line and wish for one more fucking chance.”

“Don’t go. Please,” he pleads, moving close to you and wrapping his arms around you. His broad, warm hands at your back. “Please. I’m putting it on the line here. I want you. I love you.”

You smile thinly at him. You know he’s trying and God, you love him too. But this? For you, it’s too little, too late. For him, you guess you’re asking for too much, too soon. He’s not ready to leave this life. He’s not even ready to imagine leaving it. But, oh boy, you are. You are.

You sniffle and take a deep, steadying breath, giving it everything you have to stay firm, despite every fibre in you telling you to surrender. To just stay with him. It would be too easy to do.

“It’s a hard out, Santi.”

He senses the finality of your words and nods slowly, his eyes shining with tears, his whole face becoming taut with emotion. His silence is prolonged as he draws in ragged breaths. His hands slip away from your back and the moment slips away with them. You miss the warmth of them instantly.

“Okay,” he says in a small, curt voice. “Okay.”

He about turns, precise and efficient, swivelling towards the door and tracking along the hallway leading out of your apartment.

“Santi, wait!” you call, traipsing along after him, slowed by the material bundling at your feet. “Santiago Garcia, don’t you dare leave it like this,” you plead. “Not after everything.”

He turns his head back towards you as he swings open your front door. His eyes are cold, face set as he looks at you, his voice monotone. “I’m not the one leaving.”

An anger and a sadness erupt in you at the coldness, the cruelness of his words, and, apparently, not even the sight of the fresh batch of tears spilling down your cheeks can slow his retreat from your apartment.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia turns and swiftly walks out without looking back, leaving the door swinging violently on its hinges. The fucking nerve of this man.

You start after him; but he’s already making his way down the stairwell and you’re in no position to chase him. Your pain boiling over you yell, voice creaking under the weight of your emotion.

“I hope your fucking knees give out on the way down, you asshole.”

Your cruel, cheap words carry down the stairwell, yet an echo is all the response you get. Santiago is gone. He didn’t stop for a second.

He doesn’t know how to stop.

He’s mission over emotion. Near-death over living. He’s seemingly in this until it kills him, but you can’t be in it anymore. You have always been his ride or die, but now is the time for you to live, even if that means you can no longer be side-by-side with him.

He is the other half of you and no matter where you are to go, your bodies will move through the world as a team, one unable to be read without the other. Santiago is written all over you, and nothing can change that.

Besides, you know if he really wants to, he can always come find you. He has a map for loving you, if he would ever follow the route it was trying to take him. But he’s not there yet.

He just has one more mission to go.

And then the next.

And the next.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac

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emotboyswag · 2 years

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The conversation of when is too late to medically transition is coming round again, which it does periodically, but I have never really resonated with the phrase "it's only too late when you're dead" before. But now I realise it is so incredibly true. It fucking sucks to wait, seeing everyone around you start medically transitioning sooner and faster than you is so disheartening. I came out at 11 and tried to start hormones, I've been on the NHS waiting list for years and I desperately tried to convince my transphobic parents, I tried to get a job to pay for it etc. So it wasn't for lack of trying that things happened as they happened and I didn't start hormones until I was 18.

For 7 years I watched everyone around me transition and it felt like I was running out of time. Whenever the conversation came around about when was too late to transition I always thought to myself "its too late for me". Still these days I feel like I'm running out of time for top surgery. I have been binding ever day for 7/8 years and I'm kinda coming to the end of my rope with it, every day it's just a little harder to bind, which is devastating. I don't know what I'll do when I can't bind anymore but for me at the moment surgery is prohibitively expensive and I'm not in a safe environment to get it. I'm looking into alternatives like trans tape (but I do have a larger chest).

ANYWAY I do understand when ur in the moment of waiting that it feels like you are running out of time, my life didn't even feel like it started until I was on testosterone. A few months in after seeing some changes and finally being convinced it was real and not just hand sanitiser I finally took my first breath tbh and I have not looked back since. But before starting it was just a waiting game and I thought I'd be too old for there to be any differences which is silly really because people start in their 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s and beyond.

Its only too late to transition when you're dead also applies to coming out. Not everyone "always knew" not everyone had the language or ability to express themselves at 3 years old, not everyone understood or thought about gender aged 3. People come out as kids and teens and young adults but people also come out at every stage of life.

I don't admire Caitlyn Jenner by any means but she was 65 when she came out

https://www.theguardian.com/society/2022/jul/16/we-really-are-trailblazers-coming-out-as-trans-in-later-life

Article about people transitioning later in life ^

It really is only too late when you're dead

#trans #transgender #transsexual #ftm #mtf #enby #nb #nonbinary #lgbt #gay #t4t #hrt #testosterone #hrt testosterone #estrogen #hrt estrogen #trans man #trans woman #coming out #bestposts

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metalphoenix · 2 months

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Trans Dick Grayson Head canons

He knew from super young that he was a boy. Like he was 3 or 4 telling people he was not a girl. I like to imagine his parents just kind of rolled with it. Like they live in a circus. Being weird is like... a prerequisite or something. Maybe Richard is what they were gonna name him if he had been born male so he chose that then found out that Dick was a nickname of Richard and the rest is history.

All this to say, he'd been living as Dick Grayson for years by the time he met Bruce.

This is how I think Bruce found out. So Dick wasn't born in the United States (no idea if this is canon or not but for the sake of this head canon that is the assumption I am operating under). So it would probably take Bruce a bit to get all of Dick's papers like birth certificates and other forms and he's very confused as to why he got a girls birth certificate?

Dick *walking into Bruce's office*: Hey B

Bruce: Oh good, I wanted to talk to you. Do you have a sister or a female cousin you haven't told me about?

Dick: No???

Bruce: Ok well I'm trying to get all your papers sorted and I think Haly may have sent me the wrong ones because these are for a girl named [insert dead name of choice] Grayson.

Dick: What? No, thats me?

Bruce *now very confused*: What???

Dick *confused at Bruce's confusion*: Ya? I was born [deadname] but thats not my name anymore?

Bruce *realizing this means his new tiny son is trans* hnn

Bruce asks him a few days later if he wants him to change his paperwork so it says Richard Grayson and has his sex marker as M. Dick is kind of confused why it matters but is just like sure?

The Puberty Talk is very awkward on Bruce's front. He ends up talking to Dick about hormone blockers to hold off on puberty for a bit which Dick agrees to. He starts blockers at 11.

At 13 he starts on a low dosage of Testosterone under the guidance of Dr. Tompkins and a pediatric endocrinologist.

Bruce does all of his T shots for him and they make a little event out of it. They day they do the shots they take a night off from patrol and order take out and eat it on the couch while they watch a movie. These are also the only days Alfred lets them eat ice cream straight out of the carton. (Bruce still goes on patrol but only after Dick goes to bed. It wouldn't do to have a very noticeable pattern of days he takes off).

Because of this Dick never goes through female puberty, combine that with the fact that everyone knows Bruce Wayne adopted a son, he's pretty much stealth.

When he's 16 he starts talking to Bruce about getting bottom surgery (he doesn't need top surgery seeing as he never grew breasts). He has all three bottom surgeries over the next year.

I like to think that he just... forgets people don't know. Like it doesn't occur to him that to everyone thats not Bruce, Alfred or Leslie he just looks like a cis dude. Maybe when he's like 17 he goes to pride and wears a trans flag or paints the trans flag on his cheek or something. The papparazi take a photo of him and it becomes Big News.

They hold one press conference to be like "ya I'm a trans guy, I've always been a trans guy. No stop asking about my transition that is private medical information"

He becomes more involved in the trans community after that.

Extra: Maybe he is an olympic athlete as well. obviously he competed in mens gymnastics. Imagine the debates that would cause.

#dc universe #batman #dick grayson #trans dick grayson #i'm sorry this is so long #gotham #bruce wayne #robin dick grayson #ftm dick grayson #haly's circus #testosterone

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levisolace · 3 months

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[3] Expendable Hearts (Levi x F!Reader)

Chapter 3: Ten Things I Hate About You

WC: 7,455 Chapter Warnings: flashback, drinking, college sassy levi, fluff? Summary: Everyone in Levi's life knows he only ever dated one girl and that she left him wrecked, bitter, and heartbroken. Many years later, she's back in his life and he doesn't know what to do. Note: Let's all pretend the update didn't take a year. I think this chapter can be read as a stand alone if you want to read college Levi. ^^

story masterlist | prev chapter > next chapter

You had a plan.

College means endless possibilities. College means that you’re free from your family. College means that you can finally focus on yourself. College means that you could finally make friends. To set this plan of making lifelong friendships in motion, you figured that the first step was to attend an actual party. A messy party with booze, beer pong, and unsupervised new adults like the ones you see in movies. The thought of it was enough to make you feel uneasy and dizzy enough to actually vomit before even stepping a foot inside the horrible place. But hey, it wouldn’t be so bad, right?

You’re in the middle of drinking (or at least pretending to) with a few fellow freshmen girls you met. They looked pretty. Really pretty. With luscious hair, long lashes, and glossy lips that were in contrast to the extent of how much you could fix yourself with a brush, a lip and cheek tint, and an eyebrow pencil.

You weren’t really following the conversation very much, just chiming in with a few words and chuckle here and there. They were talking about boys, a topic you were not excited for. You’re only here to make friends, you can’t fathom jumping to getting acquainted to testosterone-filled human beings so soon. That hasn't even crossed your mind.

A call to your name snapped you out of your worries. Your heart beats faster. Oh shit. They were gonna ask you something. Your relationship history, maybe? It’s fine. You can just say you haven’t dated anyone. It won’t be weird. A lot of people actually stay single throughout high school. So what if you’re a virgin? That’s a social construct. It’s fine. Yeah. Just act chill.

“What about you? What’s your type?”

Oh.

You chuckled awkwardly, eyes frantic and you held your canned beer tighter. You didn’t expect that question. This entire situation is beginning to feel like a job interview. Fuck. What is your type? Even you yourself don’t know that. Fuck. They’d find me weird if I say I don’t know or I haven’t thought about it, right?

You look around, looking at the men to decide right then and there what attracts you the most.

For fuck’s sake, just pick anything or anyone, you tell yourself.

And then you spot someone familiar. He’s standing against the wall, holding a cup to his chest, chatting with a guy much taller than him. From the looks of it, he isn’t enjoying the party that much. He was probably dragged along into it.

For reasons you don’t even know yourself, you panic and point to the steel-eyed man with the undercut.

“Him,” you raise your voice a little to make them hear you beyond the booming top hits music.

Levi Ackerman.

He was from your highschool. A famous slacker with high grades. Well, not as high as yours but given his misdemeanor and laziness, it’s actually commendable how he got into this university. You don’t actually like him like that. You barely even spoke to him. Just call it a moment of weakness—you panicked and pointed to the first familiar person you saw and that was him.

“Hm. He’s hot. A little on the shorter side but very hot.” One of the girls nodded and winked at you. You chuckled as a response and chugged down your beer in frustration. The alcoholic drink is bitter on your tongue. You don’t like it very much and you don’t understand the hype around the bitter drink but due to the lie you just spat out, you couldn’t help but feel thirsty.

Feeling someone’s eyes burning holes behind your head, you turned your head back in Levi’s direction. He was looking at you and your companions. From the looks of it, he had heard what your conversation was about. He pushed himself off the wall and you wondered what he’d do. Maybe he’d walk over to you and confront you about it?

Well, he didn’t do that. Instead, he did the most ridiculous thing.

Levi, that motherfucker, flipped you off and intentionally walked out of your sight with a pointed glare.

Fortunately, your potential friends didn’t see, having been too caught up in their next topic that you weren’t able to follow. Your mouth gaped open, shocked and offended at Levi’s reaction. A wave of embarrassment runs through you. Did you just get harshly rejected by that asshole? Was he like this to everyone who he hears has a crush on him? No wonder you didn’t hear anything about him dating back in high school. What an arrogant prick.

The rest of the first semester of University was easily spent out of the sight of the steel-eyed man. The university was big enough for the two of you not to cross paths. It wasn’t until you found a job in the middle of the semester as a server in a restaurant in Paradis that fate decided that Levi was to be thrusted into your life again.

Kuchel’s used to be a small restaurant famous in Paradis City.

Kuchel, the kind woman who owns it, was kind enough to hire you and treat you like her daughter. The work was tasking but it paid you enough to live well. Your grandmother’s savings could only take you so far and you had food, school supplies, and commute fees to worry about. Yes, you still lived with your grandmother. That was a choice. Your stupid father up and went when you started high school, disappearing to god knows where, leaving you in your grandmother’s care. Your grandmother was living well enough, not quite rich but had enough to be living in a small house in Paradis. She’s lived here all her life, generations of your family owning that lot and home. Even if she insisted that you try out the dorms, you still wanted to check up on her and just commute every day.

You loved your grandmother’s food but holy shit… Kuchel is amazing. Her food is to die for. A lot of big people in Paradis would come by and give pretty good tips.

The first time you saw Levi there, he greeted you with an insult to your cleaning.

“So, you’re the new hire. Ma should be thinking twice before hiring incompetent college students.” He said. He glanced under the counter of the cashier where you just finished cleaning, swiping his two fingers there. He then frowned at the thin layer of dust that coated the pad of his fingers, showing them to you after.

You froze by the doorway of the supply room but not because of his disappointment or his unprovoked insult. He had always been rude to you for some reason. You don’t know why and it bothered you to the core for some reason.

“Levi Ackerman,” you nod at him, intentionally ignoring his words. You got back to working, doing inventory of the supplies like you’re supposed to.

He states your name back and you were a bit surprised he knew it. You guessed it was because you were always top of the class. Still, he has a good memory, doesn’t he?

“You should know how to clean better.” He retracted back to his opening statement. You huffed, eyes only on your checklist.

“Duly noted, Ackerman,” you replied impassively, not sparing him another glance.

He didn’t reply after that, leaving to greet his mother inside the small staff room. His mother had warned you about this happening. She said Levi is unbelievably strict about cleanliness and if he ever comes by, he will definitely have something to say about your cleaning. You can get past him calling out your cleaning skills but to call you an incompetent college student? That’s just below the belt.

To make it short, the first few interactions you had with Levi Ackerman didn’t set you two up for friendship, much less a relationship.

It was only when you met Hange Zoe, the star-eyed girl from the Science department who often stopped by Kuchel’s to eat dinner. She’s one of your classmates in Philosophy class that would ask the most ridiculous (but valid) questions to the professor that never fails to make the class either curious or laugh.

Hange Zoe was a curious delight and you were only thankful that being friends with her only mainly requires listening to whatever she was working on at the moment. And you did… most of the time. What can you say? You were a good listener. In a short amount of time, you found yourself gravitating next to her more than the other people you were hanging out with. Hange just made you feel safe and content. The others were nice but with others, you felt like you were always on your toes, just constantly adjusting your personality to relate with them.

Hange began to have dinner with you during your break at Kuchel’s and if you two had time after, you’d study together too. Unlike you, Hange comes from a province with dreams of being a biologist. You never would’ve guessed as she seemed to be more adapted to city life than you who lived there all your life. When you told her that, she told you that she would often travel to see some few friends here way before college started.

Imagine your shock when the said friends dropped by one night at the restaurant.

Levi Ackerman and Erwin Smith sat in front of you at a booth one night, the former scowling at the confirmation that the girl Hange was meeting every night in his mother’s restaurant was indeed the annoying new hire. When Hange sensed the tension, she immediately nudged you and motioned to the two of you.

“Do you two know each other?” Hange asked, raising a brow excitedly.

Levi scoffs, as if offended. “No.”

“Yes,” you reply at the same time as him.

The tension only grew, the two of you glaring at each other like there were no other people sitting in your booth. There was no other person that ticked you off like the boy who had a perpetual scowl on his face. You still didn’t know why he’s so pissed at you since that incident at the party. Was it because your companions called him short? That wasn’t your fault. And it was kind of true, anyway. Not that you would say that to his face. His height, or anyone’s height, is the least of your concerns.

Smirking, you continued to piss him off. “He’s my crush.”

Hange gasped and Erwin, the tall blonde stranger, stared at Levi in amusement.

“Shut up.” Levi almost raised his voice in a rush to shush you. His face became red at his friends’ stare as he sent a dagger to your face while leaning a little bit, making you softly get out a short laugh.

“I’m kidding. Not anymore. He rejected me.” You tease him further, spewing some half-truths to keep them intrigued.

“What? Levi!” Hange reached over to smack his arm lightly. Erwin was laughing now, shaking his head. Even in amusement, you realize poise is instilled in him.

“I said shut up,” Levi repeated, an embarrassed blush tinting his cheeks as he crossed his arms. “Tsk,” he adds, looking away from you.

You shrug. “Well, it’s fine. Really,” you tell the other two at the table. Levi grunted and turned his head to the side, muttering something inaudible to anyone. You paid it no mind, wanting to chat up the other guy at the table.

“So, Erwin,” you change the topic to learn more about the blonde who had an incredibly straight posture. Seriously, the moment he sat down, towering over you even when seated, your body felt the urge to snap your spine into a straight line and correct your irreparable slouching.

With one question, you had Erwin talking about his academics and achievements. You were instantly captured by how he presents himself. He’s everything you wanted to be. Confident, smart, and approachable. You couldn’t help but be like a moth drawn to a flame. You wanted to know more about him. You wanted to be just like him.

Before you knew it, the dinners with Hange and her best friends included lunches too. Then, it extended to hang outs in and outside campus. Eventually, the four of you were inseparable. The newest member of the university-wide student council, the crazy biology student, the short handsome grumpy campus crush, and you.

“Levi!” Hange hollered, skipping while hand in hand with you.

“Babe!” You waved at Levi who was already scowling at the sight of you two. The crush thing eventually became an inside joke in your friend group with you constantly flirting with Levi in hopes of seeing his flushed but annoyed face.

The university Christmas celebration is an end-of-the-semester celebration. It’s a tradition that the school is famous for. The hottest artists in the country are invited, booths of food and stores are invited in, and the best thing? It’s exclusive to the students and alumni of Paradis University only.

The first Christmas festival at Paradis University, you spent it with your new friend group.

When the two of you reached the pair, Erwin wrapped his arms around you in a friendly manner when he greeted you while Hange forced Levi into a hug. You don’t do the same. Only Hange can do that to Levi because literally no one can stop the girl. You give Levi a nod when you pull away from Erwin’s hug.

“Hey, babe. Looking good.” You greeted Levi while your eyes went over his outfit. He wore a long sleeved turtle neck, a gray flannel, and slacks.

“Tch.” He looks away uncomfortably, pink tinting his cheeks and the tip of his nose caused by the cold and your teasing.

The festival was as fun as the upperclassmen said it would be. You tried the fake tattoos, the snacks, and even got glow sticks as bracelets. (Hange had to force the bracelet on Levi’s wrists.)

As the night fell, the four of you were cramped with the other students in front of the stage because Hange insisted that she just had to see her favorite band nearby, much to Levi’s protests.

You could easily be relaxing on a picnic mat still on the field but a little further away from the stage. Instead, you and Levi are squished together, no space between the two of you as the most awaited local pop band starts their set. Erwin and Hange were somewhere in front of the two of you, the taller two of your friend group probably had worked their way to the front of the crowd much easier. They unintentionally left you and Levi together amidst Hange’s effort to push herself through the crowd while using Erwin as a blocking sled.

Somewhere at the start of the set, you notice Levi’s irritation. He isn’t really enjoying the lack of space. A little bit concerned, you leaned over to his ear.

“Hey! You alright?” You asked, raising your voice so he could hear you over the booming music of the speakers. He turns his head, flinching to find your face so close to his but he calms immediately.

“I’m fine,” he responds though his nostrils are flaring and his eyes are frantic, looking around the crowd. The rock band was starting to play their best streamed song and before they did, they asked the people to jump to the music when they asked to.

You looked around, there was more crowd coming and you were near the stage already. Leaving now would be impossible.

“Loosen up! It’s gonna be fine,” you tell him so he could relax. It was simple advice from a friend to a friend, if that’s what you two even are.

Without thinking too much about it, you grabbed Levi’s hand. “Hey! Jump with me so we won’t lose each other.” You tell him, closing your fingers around his palm. He stares at you with wide eyes but the crowd screamed, distracting you to look at the stage before you can say anything else.

He didn’t protest and clasped his hand around yours too. As the chorus part of the song came on, you found yourself jumping with the crowd while holding Levi’s hand. It was a fun mess. You haven’t had fun like that ever. You moved with the crowd, not even minding that Levi wasn’t jumping with you.

In the back of your mind, you feared that you’ve gone too far by holding his hand. But you were having too much fun and if he didn’t want to, he could easily let your hand go. Besides that worry, there’s also this warmth creeping from your stomach to your cheeks as you raved with the crowd, singing along to the song. You couldn’t look at Levi. You don’t know why. You spared him a few glances but he was only staring ahead, a small smile on his face. He doesn’t seem to be as uncomfortable as earlier.

When the band finished the song, the adrenaline dwindled down and you were heaving. You laughed and finally worked up the courage to look at your companion to check on him, your hands still clasped together. Just as you turned your head, ironically, the band started playing their famous slow love song and as the first line of the lyrics dropped, your eyes landed on him.

He was already looking at you.

His stare held yours in place, making you freeze in time.

Side by side, you stand next to each other. The first thing you noticed is how his silver eyes sparkled under the moonlight and the glowing lights. The next thing is how his face uncharacteristically softened and relaxed, the creases on his forehead were absent and his mouth was no longer pressed into a thin line. Instead, his pink lips were slightly parted.

Everyone around you seemed to blur. The loud music from the speakers was drowned out in your brain. You could only stare at him. It’s as if you two are actually seeing each other for the first time. And you are.

Your cheeks heaten up as the weird feeling in your stomach is something you finally identify as butterflies.

“Y-you okay?” You leaned to his ear as you were finally able to gather yourself.

When you look back into his eyes, he doesn’t say anything. He only nodded, clearing his throat and looked back at the stage.

As the band continued their set, he never let go of your hand. You didn’t either. Even when the band moved on to their livelier songs, you moved with the crowd with Levi still holding your hand. Even when the crowd loosened up, the two of you never moved away from each other, keeping the small distance between the two of you.

When the set of the band came to an end, Hange and Erwin quickly found you two. And as if there was a gravitational pull, it was like the two of you never shared an odd moment of intimacy.

Glancing at Levi as Hange spoke about how the lead vocalist shook her hand, you take a glance at Levi who was doing anything to avoid your eyes. He’s looking around again. Probably to see if he can squeeze his way out of the crowd now.

“Oh—oh! There you two are! We should take a picture!” Hange jumps in excitement, not even noticing the tension between the two of you. She had already put up her camera, waiting for the three of you to pose.

You looked up and threw up a peace sign, smiling sweetly. Hange was in front, holding up the camera. Erwin was behind her a little. To compress, you shift closer next to Levi who was next to Erwin. When Hange was one second away from clicking, Erwin took it upon himself to wrap his humongous arm around the two of you, his hand landing on your shoulder and pulling you even closer to Levi, making your face squish to Levi’s.

As the picture clicked, Levi wasn’t subtle with his protests, his palm pushing up Erwin’s chin to push him away and letting the two of you go.

“Nobody cares about fucking personal space out here,” he muttered. You only chuckled, looking over Hange’s shoulder to see the picture.

The picture that came out was funny. Levi was clearly uncomfortable with how your cheeks are squished together. He was in the middle of cringing, face scrunched up in disgust. On the other hand, your eyes are wide in surprise and about to gasp. Hange and Erwin were grinning wide and unbothered. You liked it but you wouldn’t admit that.

“What the hell. Let’s take another one! I look like shit,” you complained.

You took another one with the four of you. This time, it was simple. Erwin held up the camera, making the angle much further than the last. There was no need to squeeze together. (Not like there was a need earlier. Erwin’s just a dick.)

“That’s better,” you say. You can’t wait to show it to your grandmother.

“Yeah, only if someone would wipe that frown from his face.” Hange side-eyed Levi.

And then an idea popped into your head. You can take pictures with them individually. That would be fun to show to your grandma. She’s been dying to get to know your friends.

“Hange, we should take a picture!” You ask her and Hange squealed a yes, pushing Erwin to take the picture for you who happily obliged, even holding up Hange’s camera like a father with both hands on the horizontally angled device, leaning forward with his ass in the air.

Hange put her arms around you and you did the same. You pressed the side of your foreheads together. With your free hands, you both put up a thumbs up. Then a heart. Then a peace sign.

After multiple pictures with Hange, you asked for one with Erwin too. The taller man put his arm around your shoulder and you slid your arm around his waist. As you successfully dragged the two to a picture with you, your eyes shifted to Levi who was watching by the side. You give him a look.

“Fuck no.” Levi told you, moving away when you got closer to him.

You frowned, grabbing his arm to pull him back. “Come on! Consider it my Christmas gift from you.”

“I wasn’t planning on giving you anything,” he grumbled.

Hange was already ready to take the picture. Realizing it’s better to be over with it before Levi runs away again, you posed. You don’t put your arms around him or pull him closer, afraid that he might not appreciate the lack of personal space. Instead, you decided to stick with smiling and forming half a heart with your hand. Levi doesn’t complete it, of course. He crossed his arms, glaring at the camera when it clicked.

That photo was the first photo you had with Levi Ackerman. And that same photo was framed and is now somewhere in a box that’s hidden deep in your closet.

As you get ready for work the next morning, you stare at the stack of boxes in your closet. Right at the bottom of it lies a memory lane you haven’t traveled in forever. You couldn’t. Not anymore.

With a heaving sigh, you close your closet door and head over to work.

Work was okay enough. You can definitely see yourself working with ODM for a long time. If you can patch things up with Levi, maybe you can accept the regularization offer without any guilt. If that doesn’t happen, you can just ignore each other or go back to Trost. You’re sure you can work something out to have Vanessa accept you again.

You do not like Levi Ackerman.

How could you? He’s grumpy. He’s rude. He’s lazy unless he’s cleaning. He doesn’t have any dreams. How could you like someone like him?

However, ever since you got home after the christmas university event, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. You couldn’t stop thinking about how he looked under the moonlight. The way it hit his gray eyes and how his cheeks looked so soft. You couldn’t stop thinking about him and how the two of you never spoke about that moment you shared back there. There was definitely something different in the air that night. Yeah. That must be it. It was probably the lack of space and oxygen that made you believe the funny feeling in your stomach are butterflies.

So, no, you do not like Levi Ackerman. Not like that anyway. Maybe you’re finally seeing him as a friend? Besides, if you’d have a crush on a friend, it’d be Erwin.

“Whatcha thinking of, Greenie?” Hange asked as she plopped herself on the couch next to you, handing you a cup of a drink they mixed. You’re at some party hosted in a club a little bit away from campus. You should probably be doing better things than attending a christmas frat party but somehow, Hange dragged the three of you along “for the experience,” as she said.

“Nothing,” you reply, sipping from the red cup. You immediately winced, contemplating whether to spit the drink out or swallow it. You went with the latter but not without making a disgusted face. “Fuck. What’s in this?”

“I mixed it,” Hange laughed maniacally.

Your mouth parts as you look at her and you nod. That makes sense, you think. You look down at the color of the drink, unable to identify just what color it is under the lighting of the party. “This shit’s fucking poisonous, Hange. Were you planning to kill me?”

“Yeah, drop that. Here.”

Levi suddenly appears with Erwin, standing next to you and handing you a can of a fruit flavored beer.

Like a dumbass, your mouth gaped and your cheeks heated up, realizing that he’s finally here. You accept the cold beverage, not missing how your fingers lightly grazed his.

“Thank god,” you grumbled, setting down the cup on the side table of the couch.

“Hey, there was a free table of alcohol! Sorry, I got too excited.” Hange says and drinks from her cup, somehow finding it bearable, knowing her, maybe even delicious. You cringed at the sight until Levi pushed her forehead up with a finger, pulling her mouth away from the drink.

“This is a frat party, Hange. God knows what they put in there. Only get your own sealed drinks. Preferably bought by our group.” Levi scolded and snatched the cup away from Hange. He picked up yours too and walked away.

Hange pouted beside you and stayed silent. No one said anything because it wasn’t too long until Levi came back, no longer holding the cups. He must’ve thrown them away properly.

You feel that odd feeling in your stomach again. He might’ve looked annoyed—maybe even belittling but the worry in his face is evident. There’s this… safety that you feel the more you hang out with him. A feeling of being cared for that made you feel comfortable, a state that you find both refreshing and uneasy.

Suddenly, Levi pushed you sideways, forcing you to scoot and let him sit. You glared at him but gave him space, anyway. He sits down, the space only enough for your thighs to touch. His denim pants are rough against your bare legs that were exposed by the skirt you were wearing.

“Hello to you too,” you told him off and he ignored you, looking around the club. Erwin perched his ass down at the edge of the couch right on the hand rest, loosely wrapping an arm around Levi’s shoulders.

“Should we do shots?” Erwin asked suddenly, looking at the three of you. You shake your head.

“I saw the menu. One bottle of vodka is my salary at Kuchel’s for a damn week.” You’re not gonna waste your money on alcohol. Though you have to admit that it’s one thing you want to try at least once in your life.

“It'll be my treat,” Erwin suggested and Hange immediately hollered and shouted a yes to Erwin. You couldn’t reject it anymore.

Erwin ordered for the four of you. A little later, he comes back with the bottle of tequila along with four shot glasses, some lemon and salt. Honestly, why did the four of you go here if you’re just going to drink with one another? You could’ve easily done this somewhere quieter where you don’t have to watch the girls eyeing Erwin and Levi like a hawk.

You couldn’t blame them. They looked dashing. When Hange told you that she got an invite to the club, she pressed that all of you should dress up.

Erwin wore a simple long sleeve white shirt with a few buttons opened at the top paired with washed blue jeans. His hair is subtly gelled, only messed up in a way that looks good but still evidently styled. Levi wore something similar with a darker shade, a long sleeved black shirt and black jeans. Only two of his buttons are opened, showing off his collarbones and the soft pale skin underneath the material of his shirt. His hair is fixed the same way he always does. But his undercut never failed in any look.

You heard a few girls giggling when they passed by your table. Some even winking at your male companions. Some even at Hange (who winked back delightly). She looked both beautiful and handsome at the same time.

Three shots after, you were definitely feeling the alcohol in your system. The lights in the club do nothing to help the state of your head. You decide to slow down, refusing any shot offered to you.

A few people Hange, Erwin, and Levi knows approach the table. You’ve already known them to be Miche and Nanaba but you never really hung out with them before. They were there to ask if the four of you wanted to join them on the dance floor and rave along with them.

“I’m fine here,” Levi rejected the invitation. You look at him. Hange and Erwin already agreed and went. That leaves you and Levi together, still being persuaded by the new pair.

“Oh, come on, grumpycakes. It’s almost your birthday! Let loose!” Nanaba whined and your eyes widened, staring at her.

“Birthday?” you asked then looked at Levi. “It’s your birthday?”

Levi groaned and threw his head back. “Look what you’ve fucking done, Nanaba.” He then looks at you and deadpanned. “No. It’s not today.”

“It’s on Christmas!” Miche chimed in, laughing and patting Levi on the back.

Your mouth dropped at the information. “Your birthday is on the 25th?”

“No.”

“Yes.” Miche answered for him.

“Levi here hates celebrating his birthday. He thinks it’s awkward and unnecessary.” Nanaba adds.

“Wow.” You couldn’t help yourself but say it, grinning. “You literally have the same birthday as the lord and savior himself and yet you don’t have a single kindness in your body.”

The entire table laughs. Miche pats you on the head. “I knew I liked you, Greenie. You sure you don’t want to hit the dance floor with us?” He invites you.

Before you could reply you hear Nanaba try and persuade Levi again to get off his ass.

“Come on, Levi. Petra’s there.”

You froze, your head turning to your left where Levi sat. His eyes are wide and his lips are parted, redness tinting his cheeks. Then, he sees you staring and his face drops, his expression clearly showing he’s uncomfortable. Whoever this Petra is, he’s not fond of you knowing about her. But why? And who is she?

“Oh! Yes! I saw Petra too. You have a crush on her, don’t you?” Miche adds in.

“F-Fuck you.” Levi could only stammer out, looking away from your gaze as you look at him with a bewildered expression. If you were in an unfazed state, you would’ve already said something to annoy Levi. But for now, all you could do was try to get the words you heard past the alcohol and into your system.

Crush. He has a crush.

A sinking feeling rambled in your chest and you got the urge to grasp at your chest. Oh. Fuck. Why do you feel like crying? Why is there literal and physical pain in your heart right now?

You tuned out anything they say, only seeing Nanaba point at someone in the middle of the club. She’s pretty. Short haired and ginger. She’s with her girl friends, singing and dancing along to the music with them.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Jealousy.

Shit.

You like Levi?

Oh, fuck.

You like Levi.

It was getting suffocating. You didn’t know what to do. So you stood up.

You don’t say anything. You just downed another shot of tequila, got on your feet, and headed over to where Hange is. Hange cheered when she saw you and spun you around. The crowd wasn’t as suffocating as the realization of your feelings for Levi—your unrequited feelings for Levi.

You went along with whatever Hange was doing, screaming along the lyrics of whatever was playing. Closing your eyes and letting the alcohol and flashing lights lose your senses, moving your hips to the rhythm.

As you were dancing, your mind drifts back to the concert and how intimate it felt to you. To you. How stupid were you to give meaning to something so… nothing?

As you try your best to distract yourself, you bump into someone. He’s tall and you laugh and say sorry. He looks down at you and smirks, lightening up when he sees your face.

“No. It’s my fault. Sorry!” He replied, shouting and leaning to your ear so you could hear him over the music.

“It’s fine!” you shout back at him and flashed him a smile.

“You from Paradis U?” He shouts again and you nod.

“Yeah. You?” He nods.

You exchanged names. His name is Gian and he’s a second-year engineering student. He’s good looking and tall, definitely more than 6 feet. Fair skinned with long dark hair tied up in a manbun, revealing the multiple piercings on his ears. He’s wearing a simple and fitted black shirt and jeans, showing off the muscles of his biceps. Everything is telling you that he’s bad news but you don’t seem to care at the moment. Besides, he might not be interested in you anyway.

You introduce him to Hange and he happily gets to know her. Somehow, Nanaba and Miche but without Levi. You badly want to look at the table you left, eyes always seeming to look for him everywhere. However, you know better than to see he’s not there and already spending time with the redhead he has a crush on.

“Hey,” Gian leans into your ear again. “You have a boyfriend or something?”

A little shocked and curious why he would ask that, you leaned in to ask. “What?” you shout over the music.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Gian repeated, louder this time with his face over yours after he said the words so he could see your reaction. It seemed to please him when your face flushed red.

“Oh! Yeah. I mean, no. No. I’m single.” You curse yourself at your stammering response.

Great, I must have looked like a total loser when I opened my mouth.

A little panicked because this is the first time someone showed their interest to you this way, your eyes looked for Hange for help. When you do, you see her throwing you a thumbs up while Nanaba silently cheers you on with her fists. You even see her mouth what seems to be like a ‘Go get it, girl!’.

He pulls himself closer to you and leans into your ear, this time he doesn’t shout because his lips were close enough to kiss your ear but not quite touch.

“That’s good because I think you look really hot in your skirt,” he whispered, lips almost kissing your ear. His voice, rough and deep, sent chills down your spine and parted your lips in anticipation for the attention he’s giving you.

The back of your mind is screaming a name, hoping you would see him—hoping he would see you. But you know that now, it’s impossible. He doesn’t want you like that.

So you pull yourself closer to the named stranger, your bodies flush against each other. A stray hand presses down on your back, sliding down to your behind where it squeezes, making you gasp.

“Oh!” You didn’t really expect that he would touch you like that.

Gian’s hand inches away from you in less than a second like it was scorched by fire, face laced with embarrassment and apology. “Sorry, too far?”

You were unfamiliar with being touched like that but everyone around you seemed to be getting it on. Looking around, the people on the dance floor were doing worse. It’s a place where people go to do things like this, you should let loose.

“No, no,” you answer quickly. “It’s fine. Just surprised me s’all.”

The man in front of you let out a breath of relief and continued roaming his hands around your body, his face buried in your neck. You were relaxing into it, trying to appease yourself in this type of closure.

“Greenie.”

Your head whipped around to the deep voice calling you. Levi stands there, not too close but even your company could feel the threat looming in his impassive cold stance. It was enough to make you keep a distance with Gian as if you were doing something wrong.

“Levi,” it came out more of a whisper. You weren’t even sure if Gian even heard it.

The silver-eyed man steps closer this time, maybe so you can hear him. “Erwin is not feeling well. I think we should go. Where’s Hange?” He looks around the crowd, looking for Hange. Or avoiding your eyes because of the lie.

You found that hard to believe because it’s Erwin. That man never gets sick. His daily vitamins and supplements are scheduled and he holds his alcohol really well. Maybe the best drinker out of the four of you.

“Oh,” you choose to believe anyway. “I guess we should. Uhm…” You face Gian. “I’m sorry. This is my friend, Levi.”

Gian doesn’t hide the disappointment in his face but smiles anyway. “Don’t even worry about it. Sup, bro? I’m Gian.”

Levi only nods in acknowledgement, nothing ill-mannered when it comes to him. He always acts this way with every new person he meets.

“I guess I’ll see you around, Gian.” You smile up at him. Before he can respond, the crowd fills up more as the DJ puts on a popular club song, pushing Levi to you. Discomfort creeps into Levi’s face and unconsciously, he reaches for your wrist for some familiarity.

“Let’s go,” he says with an irritated look on his face.

“Wait.” Gian places a hand on your shoulder. “You’re on Facebook, right?”

You nod and before you can say anything else, Levi was already dragging you out of the crowd. You hear Gian shout out a follow that he’ll find you there before looking at the man ahead of you, holding your wrist tightly but not so much that it hurts.

As you follow Levi, you pass by your table where you see a very much sober-looking Erwin who stared into your eyes knowingly with a smirk and his arm around a girl’s shoulder you don’t know. Hange can’t be found anywhere. Miche and Nanaba as well. It didn’t look like the group was getting ready to leave at all.

You try and tug your hand out of his grip, protesting as you walk through the night club. When you finally reach the outside of the club, the cold air hits your skin, setting goosebumps all over. Levi finally lets go, his back still turned to you.

“What the hell is going on, Levi?” There’s a slight shiver to your question, your arms coming up to protect yourself from the cold.

He doesn’t turn around, standing still in front of you.

“Hey—”

“Let’s go home.” He turns without looking at you, attempting to walk off without even uttering an explanation as to why he insists that the two of you go home.

Unwilling to accept his orders, you huff and grab him by the shoulder, halting his steps. “I am not going home! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Then go back inside. Fuck!” He shrugs your hand off his shoulder, glaring at you for a second before looking away again. This is a mood from Levi you can’t read. You’ve seen him annoyed. You’ve seen him irritated. You’ve even seen him happy. But this one, you can’t understand. And you have a feeling that it’s because of you. And that sets an uneasy feeling in your chest. Levi and you always fight but he was still a friend.

“What’s gotten into you, Levi?” Your voice softens, as if cowering. It must be the alcohol (or that poison drink Hange gave you) in your system that had your walls down for a moment. Levi has also never seen you like this. It’s without doubt that his sudden attitude scared you.

“It’s…” He paused. The thought of scaring you made him clear his thoughts a little. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. “Nothing.”

You weren’t satisfied with his answer, you made sure he gets that with your answer. “It’s not nothing.”

“Why do you hate me so much?” The softness of your voice surprised him, it’s far from your usual behavior with him. It’s like you were baring yourself, the alcohol you guess is doing the work.

There is deafening silence for a few seconds, the cold doing nothing to help the situation. He takes a step closer, brows furrowed and a frown painted on his face.

“I don’t hate you.” He hissed, as if you said something offensive to him.

Your jaw clenched, biting your words in frustration. “You do!” You keep the distance closer. “You hate me because I’m not well off. Like I’m not fucking worthy of your time because I don’t come from money like you.”

“That’s not at all true,” he argues, equally frustrated now. “Is that what you think of me? A pompous elitist?”

No, I don’t think that. Maybe at first… but not anymore.

“Yes.”

“Well, you’re fucking wrong,” he blanks. “You know what? I do hate you.”

“I fucking hate you,” he repeats. “I’ve hated you since high school. It was awful. Seeing you try so hard, not making friends, and ignoring everyone who tries to get close. It was fine, really. I didn’t care. That’s your shitty life. And then you get here. And suddenly you’re in my life trying to be someone else. You get to my mom, my friends, my home. It’s so fucking annoying.”

You’re stunned. Somewhere, somehow, you hear your heart breaking from a distance. For the second time that night, your chest tightens, but for a different type of pain. A pain that didn’t feel good as realized earlier.

“I fucking hate you.” As if it wasn’t enough, he repeats it.

“I…” He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “I fucking hate that you’re in my head. All the fucking time.”

“You’re making me so insane that I just wish that you would stay away from me,” he ranted, eyes still closed so tight that his brows furrowed and forehead wrinkled. You can see how his cheeks and ears are red, blazing from intense cold or emotion. You weren’t sure.

“But I… don’t really want you anywhere else.”

The sound of your phone buzzing pulls you back to reality. Why now of all times were you reminiscing about how you and Levi came to be? At corporate lunch time at that.

You reached for your phone, seeing a text from Hange. She was trying to schedule you with a tailor to have the bridesmaid dress of the girl who canceled refitted to your body. You send her your schedule, not having a lot of time left on both the wedding and your time availability.

After a few minutes, you received a text back from Hange.

Great! I scheduled you on Sunday, 10AM! Levi will pick you up and come with you. Love ya!

Oh, Hange. I’m gonna fucking kill you.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman angst #levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan fanfic #levi imagine #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman fluff #levi fluff #i recently ghosted a guy in a similar context #i wrote again to cope #also i miss levi

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guqqie · 1 year

Note

hi! this is a little silly but i just wanted to thank you, you talking about pcos made me realize i have all the symptoms and today i was able to get the diagnosis from my doctor. i'd genuinely never even heard of it before (yippee for reproductive health information) but i was starting to think it was a little weird and you confirmed that for me

so less of an ask, and more of just a little note of appreciation <3

YO!! i’m so glad you were able to get your diagnosis!! it is so damn common yet so under diagnosed so i am glad me talking openly about it had taught others too! happy i could help :)

for anyone who doesn’t know PCOS stands for Polycystic Ovaries Syndrome! it is an extremely common condition that affects how your ovaries work and most common symptoms of this is heavy/painful periods, irregular periods, facial hair and much more. an indication you have it is if you have more testosterone in your body than you should (it was the biggest sign for me and i still wasn’t diagnosed until two years later because my doctor didn’t know what PCOS was!!)

id recommend looking into it!! afab health is very overlooked! you knowing what PCOS is even if you don’t think it effects you, someone you know could be effected by it and not know about it! i only found out what it was from my mother’s hairdresser a few years ago!

#guqasks #pcos #pcos awareness #polycystic ovarian syndrome

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tboyswagging · 11 months

Text

Recently I have been making a kind of trans memory box of important things from my transition and as someone who lives in a fairly unsupportive environment I'm finding it really healing in a way. Like even despite it all I'm finding elements of me. I saw someone do this on Instagram a while ago so I definitely stole the idea. I'm just putting it in a random shoebox but I hope I'll look back on it one day when I'm in a better situation and further transitioned and like,, feel emotional about it. But this is what's in my memory box so far:

- my diary from 2016 which is the year I came out to everyone, it starts in May and I came out to my parents in January so I don't have their reaction but from the fact they gave me the notebook and they wrote a dedication to me which says "dear [deadname]" we can infer they are not on board (they still arent). But I've written entries about coming out to other people and talk about my life. Also I was in an abusive relationship later on in 2016 and its interesting to hear abt that bcs a lot of my memory has gone. I was in year 7 and its just crazy to think how my life has changed.

- old binder, not my very first binder bcs idk where that has gone I don't think I still have it but it's the last gc2b binder I had I've been getting spectrum since 2019 and its very stretched out bcs once I wore it for 8 consecutive days and nights (very very unadvisable). But its the longest ago binder I have so it'll have to do

- zine I was in when i was 17 that I hid from my parents bcs its Trans Themed

- my deedpoll

- letters from the GIC clinic from 2019 and 2021 (the second one telling me I have been put on the adult waiting list). I am literally nearly a year and a half on T and I still haven't got a GIC appointment it's a joke. (I started T priv but then transferred over to a nhs dr)

- First ever testosterone bottle packaging that I have stuck both my private prescription label and nhs prescription label to

I think I am gonna print out my gender dysphoria diagnosis if I ever have the opportunity (it is very funny bcs when I got diagnosed w gender dysphoria I was 3 months on T and had been identifying as trans for 7 years so i was like. Yeah no shit) and a photo of me the day I came out but I'm trying to think what other things I can put in it

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spiritfrvr · 1 year

Text

BF! Hobie Brown x FTM BF! Reader

You just experienced to your cannon event but your boyfriend Hobie was here to help..

You joined the spider society a few years ago and when Miguel told you about the cannon events what stood out to you the most is when he said “ Everyone who is Spiderman experience it”…

Miguel told your boyfriend Hobie, You, and your friend yesterday, y’all had a mission to do but you couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about it. You then looked at your friend worried but looked back at Miguel nodding in agreement..

It’s Morning, and you woke up still having that worry feeling from yesterday; as you stood and went to the bathroom, you did your daily routine before taking your testosterone shot/gel (whatever you prefer!). You then proceeded to get out of the bathroom and put on your Spider-Man suit and just in time you saw your friend and your boyfriend and you knew it was time to go.

You landed on Earth - (whatever u want) and proceeded to split up with your team to find that monster. Later on you we’re still trying to look for the monster, you were digging through trash bags, buildings, everywhere when you still couldn’t find it. You felt a hand slowly resting on your shoulder, you turned around wishing you didn’t as you felt puzzled seeing your friend be carried by Hobie “He got attacked by the monster and died to em ” he muttered.

You couldn’t say anything as your mouth started to become dry, you went closer to your friend noticing the bleeding that was going on still feeling puzzled, you held their face gently before your boyfriend Hobie said he was going to take him back to Miguel and he’ll be right back. You stood there before falling feeling sweaty, you couldn’t help but tear up a bit as you struggling to breathe. You tried to take deep breaths but couldn’t because you were scared and had so many things you were feeling and, In order to express them they came out as a panic. You then noticed your boyfriend Hobie trying to pick you up and take you back home.

You were now on Hobie's back still feeling that panic; you got home and started sobbing against the wall still having a hard time breathing. You couldn’t feel anything and Hobie started to realize you were having a panic attack so they decided to hug you around your neck proceeding to say “It's going to be okay” he was trying his best to comfort you and he then decided to turn you around, holding your face telling you to slowly breathe and do it with him. You both were now breathing and you managed to calm down from your hyperventilating, then you asked “C-can you stay the night”? You still felt his smooth hands on your face before seeing Hobie nod in agreement.

You two were now laying on the bed before you went closer to him deciding to hug them and Hobie felt some tears on their arm so they then went to hug you back. You rested your head on their chest. Then feeling slightly better you told them that you loved them before closing your eyes and went asleep.

[ thank you to @skeletonfromthecloset for requesting this I appreciate it a lot :)), also I apologize if this seemed rushed sed especially towards the end but hope y’all enjoyed it <3 ]

#spiritwrites☆彡🖇#astv fic #fanfic #ftm reader #astv hobie #hobie x reader #Hobie x ftm reader #hobie brown #hobie x y/n #hobie x male reader

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our-marvel-universe · 2 years

Text

Fitness

Pairing: Ari x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: You are planning to cancel you're gym membership but then you meet Ari

WC: 1.6K

A/N: This is for Navy & Roo's @the-slumberparty this was from a generator or prompt list before the challenge actually started. My prompt was Active.

That's it you were done. All the new year, new you nonsense was over.

You used to spend so much time setting resolutions, unrealistic ones at that, not meeting them and then beating yourself up about it. But you were different now. Thanks to all the work you'd been doing on yourself, mentally and emotionally, you were in a much better place. You were learning to love the body you were in and you wanted to take better care of it. No you didn’t have any weight loss goals. What you wanted was to move your body in ways that felt good. To build up your strength and endurance. You wanted to be stronger and you couldn’t do that if you were feeling self conscious in a gym full of people.

Once you realized it was the gym itself that made you nervous you found alternative ways to work out. You’d started working out at home with short YouTube videos and were going on lots of walks and even a couple short hikes. Who needs those fancy confusing machines? Not you. Which is why it was time to cancel this membership. To be honest you signed up online last year and never even stepped foot in the place. It was an unnecessary expense, but not anymore!

Unfortunately they wouldn’t let you cancel online so you are here to do it in person. Maybe as a treat you’ll go out nice for dinner. After all, you'll have an extra $35 bucks a month in your pocket once you got this sorted.

Going up to the door you're almost knocked over by some gym bro rushing out. Yuck . This is exactly why you are leaving too much testosterone.

As you enter you take in the place there is pop music playing over the speakers. Lots of cardio machines and weight machines and of course free weights. But there's something about this place that's different. You expected to see an endless sea of muscle tees and hear lots of grunting from John Cena looking guys. Or smaller guys who imagined they could look like John Cena if they tried hard enough. But today in this gym there were a lot of women. A curious number in fact since there was a women's only gym on the other side of town. At least you thought there was.

Huh, maybe it closed. Shrugging to yourself you start to make your way to the front desk.

On your way you pass what you assume to be the smoothie bar. Behind which a handsome dark skin man with bright eyes and an easy smile is making drinks for about 5 different women. Huh, maybe you’ll grab something on the way out.

You’re waiting at the front desk for someone to help you. You would go ask smoothie guy but he’s clearly preoccupied…

“Hi, can I help you?”

Turning around every thought you had drifts out of your head as you lock eyes with what could only be a beautiful figment of your imagination. 6’2” maybe 6’3” shaggy brown hair and a thick beard. You’ve never really been into beards before but he might change that.

“Are you alright? Can I help you with something?”

Ok so you didn’t cancel your membership. In fact you had signed up for personal training sessions. You didn’t plan on it but you and Ari got to talking; he was so kind and patient when you told him about your concerns. How you weren’t sure how to use the machines and didn’t know which workouts to do. You couldn’t believe you were being so bold and honest with him, but you’re glad you were.

After you confessed everything to him he offered you 3 complimentary personal training sessions with him. Since you didn’t like the crowds he offered to meet you later in the evening after the post work rush. On your first session with him Ari took you through every machine in the gym and taught you how to use them. He’s been nothing but kind, encouraging and supportive ever since you met.

“Great work!” Ari said as you finished your last rep.

You’ve been working with Ari for about 2 months now, doing 1 private session a week and coming another 3 times on your own. Working out was officially a part of your regular routine, and you were in the best shape of your life! You could feel yourself getting stronger and your confidence was obviously growing.

Private sessions or not, Ari always seemed to find you. You had a sneaking suspicion he was going out of his way to talk to you. In fact this session tonight was an extra. Usually you meet with him on Mondays but he said he had a cancellation and offered you a Friday slot as well.

“You did amazing today!” Ari said before wrapping you up in one of his big bear hugs and spinning you around.

“Me? I couldn’t have done any of this without your help”

“No, no way I just guided you a bit here and there you’re the one who put in all the hard work.”

Ari was always saying things like that, how strong you are, how dedicated, how beautiful. If it was anyone else you’d think they were sucking up so you would keep coming back, but Ari? He was being nothing but sincere.

He’s still holding onto you, your arms are wrapped around each other, and he's looking down at you with his beautiful blue eyes, and he’s so tall you have to tilt back your head so you can meet his intense gaze. The moment is heavy and you start to think that maybe…

There's a loud bang in the gym, probably someone dropping the squat rack on the ground too hard. But the sound breaks the tension. Ari clears his throat and takes a rather large step away from you. “

Seriously great work today, why don’t you head home, I can clean up here.” He says as he starts to wipe down the equipment you were using.

“Ohh um sure, I’ll head out then. I’ll see you next week?”

“Yeah definitely!”

As soon as you turn off and head to the locker room Ari is kicking himself. Christ, there goes yet another opportunity to ask you out and he botched it..again! The guys keep bothering him about it, apparently the entire gym staff knows he’s harboring the world's biggest crush on you. And all the extra pressure from his staff is not helping his nerves.

Ari has never in his life had a hard time talking to women but something about you, he gets so tongue tied and nervous it’s not like him at all. A minute ago when the two of you were standing there wrapped in each other's arms, God it felt so good to hold you like that it took all his strength not to lean down and kiss you. But then he chickened out of course. Ughh he’s got to think of a plan. Maybe it would be easier if he just texted you…? No he’d rather do it in person, like a gentleman, he just didn’t know what he was going to say.

Ari’s at the front desk with Sam, one of the other trainers. The gym is usually slow on Friday nights so the two of them just have to wait for the few stragglers that are here to finish their workouts and then they’ll head home.

He thought you might have left already but you stroll up to the desk looking absolutely lovely in a different outfit than when you came in.

“Hi” You say smiling at him “Hey Sam” You acknowledge the man next to him.

Sam gives a quick “Hey” back before giving Ari a gentle nudge and heading to the other side of the desk so he can look busy with paperwork while still eavesdropping.

“Hi, did you need something before you go?”

“No, actually I wanted to ask you something,” You take a deep breath before verbalizing the question that’s been burning on your tongue for weeks, “Would you like to go out with me sometime?”

For a split second Ari is convinced he heard you wrong. For a moment he’s convinced this is one of his many fantasies about you, but he quickly recovers and gives the only logical answer.

“Yes, yes I would love to go out with you.” His smile is so wide it almost hurts, and you have an equally wide grin across your face. You try to reign it in just a little bit. Right now you have the overwhelming urge to squeal and jump around but you’re pretty sure that might make Ari change his mind.

Calming your inner turmoil you look to him and say “Great well, I don’t know if you’re free this weekend at all but...”

“Actually he’s free right now” Sam interrupts.

“You sure man?”

“Yeah, I’m sure, we close in an hour anyway, you two go out and have a good time” Sam waves the two of you off.”

“OK it looks like I’m free now” Ari says with a chuckle. “If that works for you?”

“Yes, that definitely works!”

“Ok, there's a really good Mexican place right up the street. We could walk there if you want?”

“Mexican sounds perfect.”

“Ok then, after you.” He says as he gestures for you to lead the way. You head towards the door figuring he’ll catch up. Ari steps around to the front of the desk wrapping his knuckles on it before whispering a quick “thank you” to Sam. With his long legs he catches up to you quickly and by the time you make it out the front door the two of you are holding hands as you leisurely stroll to your destination.

Thanks so much for reading!! Don't forget to leave a comment and let me know what you think.

Have an awesome day! <3

#ari levinson fic #ari levinson x reader #navy and roo’s sleepover #kes writes #ari levinson fluff #2 fics in one night

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carbondioxidewater · 2 years

Text

hi lmao, what is this. my first time doing smut, I have no idea what I'm doing. eren, what have you done to me. 🫣 I'm so ashamed, I never wanted to do smut, but now I'm here laughing lmaoooo 💀💀💀 sorry for any mistakes I haven't noticed yet btw <3

warnings: nsfw, eren x fem!reader, age gap, slightly obsessive/possesive eren?, slight stalking, fingering, oral (f!receiving)

word count: 4,5K

Senses

When Eren Jaeger met his best friends stepmom for the first time, he held his breath for a second. The world stood still for him as he imprinted your face into his head and, unable to speak properly, stuttered when he introduced himself. From that moment on, Eren gave up on every girl that wasn't you, not that you were aware of it though.

He never understood why a young and beautiful woman like you - barely 22 - dated this far too old and grumpy 36-year old man, who also happened to be a single father to a teenage kid. How could a boring man like him pull you? You were perfect, the most beautiful creature he has ever laid eyes on. He did not deserve you, he thought, his pubescent 15-year old self overwhelmed by the high testosterone in his body.

He often imagined kissing you, caressing your skin, and doing way more dirty things with you. But you never had a clue, always welcoming him like the child that he was, obviously never remotely seeing him as anything other than the best friend of your stepson.

That was until you met him again, almost 7 years later and in his prime time, girls and boys of every age stunned at the bare sight of him.

You were just casually grocery shopping - you ran out of potatoes a few days ago and you needed them for today's meal - when Eren approached you out of the blue. It took you quite a few seconds to recognize the tall male in front of you, the last time you've seen him was ages ago, his existence almost vanished from your memory. He was not only taller than you now, he also grew out his now long hair that was tied up in a man-bun, and you were sure the muscles around his veiny arms weren't there last time.

You welcomed him with a smile at this coincidental encounter.

Coincidental…If you only knew that Eren was watching you from afar ever since he recognized you a few weeks ago, observing your every move whenever he spotted you in the supermarket again.

He never forgot about you, but saying that he didn't move on with his life after you left his best friends father - which shattered his world back then, he never liked him with you, but it was the only chance of seeing you - would be a lie. Luckily, his best friend and you stayed in contact, so he stayed in touch with you too for a while, trying some minor moves here and there when they were in your apartment, but as always, you didn't take it seriously, you never did. You never paid attention to his lovesick eyes, overlooked his flirtatious behaviour towards you and took the various pick-up lines or compliments as cheeky, juvenile jokes.

One year on Valentine's Day, you were still with his best friends father, he bought you your favourite flowers and chocolate, he knew all your favourites, he paid a lot of attention already back then, and a self-made card, but you just laughed at his innocence, telling him he should have given the gifts to a girl he liked and not you.

The answer upset him. You were the girl he liked, the woman he liked, the woman he adored.

But he had to give up on you eventually, seeing he had no chance of ever crossing the barrier that's between the two of you. He distracted himself and only visited his friend when he was at his father's.

But now he was older. Now, he wouldn't give up on you anymore. Now, he was going to have you, all of you.

Eren is quite the sight now, with his sharp bone structure and those stinging, green eyes and oh, his voice. His alluring, deep voice that made the knees of everyone near him weak. Not you though, you were not aware of his seductive aura, not yet. But he would change that.

"Eren? What a surprise! I haven't seen you in ages! Didn't even recognize you at first!" you exclaimed with a smile, a smile that did outworldly damage to his heart and trousers.

"How are you doing?" you further asked.

You chatted for a while, updating each other on your current lives before heading to the checkout to pay.

After you both paid for your things, Eren only bought a protein shake - he was only there for you in the first place, knowing at what time you usually go to the supermarket - while you had two full bags of groceries, Eren offered to drive you home in his car, not letting a lady carry her heavy bags around the city on her own, as he said.

"Ah, they are not that heavy and I'm not that weak, you know. Still, thanks for offering." you excused yourself but he didn't let his chance slip away.

"I know you aren't, but it's on my way, if you still live where you used to. Really no big deal." he lied.

On his way? He had nowhere to be, coming the extra mile for you from the other part of the town where he lived, even though the girl that was the reason he's been in this district the past few months in the first place was probably waiting for his call. But she was long forgotten, you're the only one in his thoughts again. It's safe to say that he is a little obsessed even.

You agreed hesitantly and soon you were seated next to him in his car. As if to impress you, he held the wheel with just one hand, the other one placed on top of the gear shift, indirectly bringing up his ability of placing his hand up the thighs of whoever sat beside him while driving.

While thinking of doing that on yours, he smirked a little, unnoticed by you though.

"So, how has the rest of your life been going? Did you find your Mr. Right finally?" he cautiously asked the question he feared of having the answer to, the one reason he didn't dare to approach you earlier on.

He awaited your response with a quickening heart-beat, discreetly side-eyeying you. You just let out a little chuckle.

"No, not yet, I'm good on my own." you shortly replied before continuing.

Thank the gods, he thought in relief.

"And what about you? Did you find a worthy girlfriend already?" you teasingly asked, an innocent grin slightly spreading on your face.

Hell yes he did.

"Working on it." he briefly responded and you didn't know he meant you.

You nodded in response.

"Good luck then, I hope this works out." you smiled at him and his heart was missing a beat.

"Me too." he voiced, eyes not leaving yours for what felt like an eternity for him, until the traffic lights turned green and he softly let out a cough to escape his daydreaming.

It's been just a few seconds in reality though, so you did not take note of the sudden tenseness radiating next to you.

When you arrived he insisted on carrying his things to your apartment for you. You wanted to turn him down - without success.

When he stepped inside your housing, the fresh smell of the apartment together with your own personal smell that he loved and missed so much made the way up to his nose. Just smelling your perfume as you passed by resulted in his pants getting tighter. He could hide it pretty well though, his oversized joggers not letting the sight of it come through.

In the kitchen, he finally put your bags down and tucked the loose strands of his hair behind his ear, they immediately fell back down though, too short to be tucked in. He walked around a little, reminiscing in nostalgia before noticing the flowers in the living room and speaking up again.

"Who are they from?" he asked, panicking over the possibility that you were seeing another man.

"Are tulips your favourite flowers?" They weren't. He knew your favourites were bluebells. But he couldn't let you know he knows.

"Actually, my favourites are bluebells, but I like tulips too." you replied to him.

"Whoever got you these must be an unmindful dirtbag then." he impudently announced and you laughed.

"Well, you could say that." you said with a chuckle.

"But enough talking about meaningless stuff, can I offer you a drink? I have water, apple juice or tea-…" you listed.

Meaningless stuff? Nothing about you was meaningless to Eren, he wants to know everything about you.

"Just water please, thanks."

"No need to thank me, that's the least I can do to pay back your help."

"You don't have to pay back anything. I insisted on it, you don't owe me a thing." he quickly made clear, not wanting you to feel as if you're in his debt.

"Wow, I wish my boyfriends would've had this mindset." you joked while heading to the kitchen, Eren slowly following you.

"You might as well make me your boyfriend then." Eren remarked and you thought he was kidding until you saw the stern expression in his face.

He stepped closer to you, seducing eyes laid on yours as your back leaned against the fridge. The lust was written all over his face, the latter coming nearer and closer to yours. Your heart quickened its pace and a certain nervousness went through your body. He stopped right before your face.

"Kiiiddinggg" he then voiced lowly and you were taken aback. Never before did you feel such unknown feelings around him, around anyone to be specific.

You've never felt nervous around other men, only felt comfort with your previous partners. No butterflies in your stomach, no increasing heart-beat. You dated out of reason, not passion.

But in this moment, your lower belly started to tingle uncomfortably and you noticed a sensation that was only familiar to you because it appeared whenever you were expected to introduce an important presentation at work.

You didn't catch up on the fact that it was in fact Eren who made you feel like that due to the unknown feelings inside of you. You thought you were just stressed about something subsconciously.

You didn't realize yet that, from now on, you'll start to see Eren with different eyes. But you would understand soon, Eren would make sure of that.

It wasn't until the next time you saw Eren with your former stepson - standing at your door - that you discovered that the uneasiness swarming over your body was actually his doing. You tried to shake off those thoughts and feelings, in your eyes he was still the youngster, although a small part of you slowly started to see the young, attractive man he bloomed into.

And the fact that he suddenly showed up everywhere you set a foot on, making sneaky and flirty remarks here and there, consuming your mind like an unquenchable, raging fire didn't make things easier. You didn't know if your brain was tricking you and you were seeing things that weren't there or if Eren's presence, this threatening but exciting aura, was really there when you couldn't make out his figure.

But you didn't oversee his obvious attemps anymore. All of a sudden, bundles of bluebells were sent your door in regular intervals and your former stepson and his best friend came over surprisingly often. You even started to tell your friends about it, being ashamed of your own, baffling feelings, but they didn't see the clear problematic, even telling you to go after it and enjoy yourself.

"He's only 23. This feels weird." you said, talking into the microphone of your phone.

"You were just 22 too when you dated this lame old man." a friend of yours remarked.

You chuckled at her response, she never liked your ex. It was true, you were very young the time you dated him, but you never regretted it, thinking you were mature enough for this relationship. But now that you were in this situation, you didn't know if Eren was mature enough. Of course you didn't plan to ever go after your weird new feelings, but just rhetorically thinking about it: 6 1/2 years is a huge gap, especially considering that at his age, he still isn't completely grown up.

Eren knew how obvious he was. That was his plan ever since he saw the nervosity in your eyes in the kitchen. Seeing you like this, behaving clumsily on his account, only fueled his hunger for you. Finally, your eyes were directed at him.

It was another day of Eren and your Ex's son visiting you. Usually, whenever your stepson headed over for the night, he was staying in your guest room. Tonight was one of those nights and this time, Eren was staying too.

The bare presence of him made you uneasy. You went around your living room, back and forth between the window on the one side and the door at the opposite, when it suddenly ringed at the door. You knew who it was.

Eren in the guest room listened carefully to the soft timbre of your voice.

"Go home, Caleb, I have guests. I told you it's over." you quietly muttered, your Ex, or could you even call him that, you've only met up a few times before you called it quits, continued walking up the stairs to your apartment.

"Your stepson again? Really, you should finally end this, how long have you and his father been separated now? Why are you still in touch with him?" he growled and you rolled your eyes.

"He will always be part of my life." you commented, even though your relationship now is more of a brotherly-sisterly one.

Eren curiously asked his friend who the man on the other side of the door was.

"I don't know, probably one of her thousand admirers…Don't tell me you still have a crush on her." he grinned, one brow raised as he awaited his best friend's answer.

Eren just smirked.

"What if I had?" he cockily asked.

"Never gonna happen bro, forget about her. She's out of your league. Literally."

"Just wait and see." Eren hummed, arms behind his head as he smiled against the door, eavesdropping once again.

"Come on, let me in, I just want to talk a little." the man in front of you pleaded.

"I told you everything you need to know. Now, would you be so kind to leave, I'm tired." you stated but he didn't listen. Instead, he shoved you aside and pushed himself inside.

"I don't think you did. I won't leave until I'm pleased with the answer. I sent you flowers, you forgot? Those were expensive, you owe me some time." he announced, his voice deeper than before.

That's when the door to the guest room opened and someone interfered the two of you, hand gripping Caleb's and back facing your body as he looked down at the unwelcomed man.

"She doesn't owe you a thing. Those were expensive? Yeah, they also were the wrong ones. You could've at least put some effort and bring her her favourites. If I heard it right, she told you to leave." Eren remarked and you looked up at him in shock.

Caleb, overwhelmed with the situation when a second guy came out of the room and positioned himself next to Eren, walked a few steps back before making poor excuses.

"Save your words, I don't care anyways. Get out of here. Now." Eren harshly threatened and Caleb did as he said, whispering cusses under his breath.

"And next time, you respect her decision, and not just when another man shows up!" Eren added before closing the door. Even though this mentality should be the bare minimum, you couldn't deny that it was attractive to you.

"Sorry for interfering, are you okay?" he then asked and you quickly fell out of your trance and revisioned what has just happened.

"I don't think he would've done anything I couldn't have handled myself, but thanks anyways." you kind of thanked him, a little hesitant due to your independent nature.

Eren smiled warmly.

"I know you could have. But why should you use your energy for this piece of shit? He doesn't deserve your attention." Eren noted.

He doesn't, but I do. Save your energy for me. he thought.

"Because it's my business, not yours." you let out a little rudely.

Eren was too stunned to speak as you made your way back into the living room. Of course you wouldn't be that easy to persuade. The most thrilling part of the hunt is the chase. But obviously, he doesn't just want to have you once, he wants to have you forever. And most importantly, he wants you to choose him out of your own desire.

A few hours later, you were already growing tired, it was past midnight after all, you were making your way up to the bathroom. When you opened the door, a bare-chested Eren was standing in front of the sink, eyes glued to the mirror in front of him, busy with his shirtless reflection. He immediately noticed the intruder, promptly locking eyes with you. You too were busy with his shirtless figure in front of you, turning red from embarassment, especially because you found him so shamelessly appealing.

You shut the door instantly after forcing out a quick but faint "sorry" and went straight into the kitchen, drinking a glass of water to cool down while glancing out the window.

Soon enough, Eren left the bathroom and followed your trail. You mentally prepared yourself and turned around, but when you saw he was still shirtless, you turned your head again, not knowing where to look as it was pitch black, the only source of light being the glowing moonlight.

He came nearer until the moon kissed his face and all his marvellous features were visible. He stopped right in front of you, peering down as he mustered you sharply while your wide eyes looked up at him. His eyes were relaxed but his gaze intensely fixated at you and his mouth was closed as he calmly in- and exhaled air through his nose, his firmed chest and toned shoulders rising and falling with each breath.

The heat rose through your core at his sudden closeness and the thought of his well-trained eight-pack that was almost touching your skin. You felt like you were going insane, going feral over his piercing eyes and muscular abs like this.

"I'm sorry for invading…" you articulated, your body betraying you with a trembling voice. Eren's gaze intensified before his deep voice reached your ears.

"It's your property." he claimed, referring to your apartment with the intention of telling you not to worry. You stood silent and just gawked at his beautiful physique, which unconsciously drew you closer to him. He noticed.

"So am I." he further stated and it took you a while to process his words, your eyes still overwhelmed by the direct sight of him.

"…what?" you silently asked, not completely yourself yet and still lost in his eyes.

"I'm yours I mean." he repeated.

"..If you want me." he corrected himself, needing your approval.

"Eren…what are you saying. You're 23-"

"Doesn't matter."

"You're his best friend-."

"Doesn't. Matter."

He was persistent.

"You're tired, go to bed." you said after a while, straightening your posture and furrowing your eyebrows because you were overstrained by the current situation.

"Tired?" he laughed before continuing.

"Yeah, tired of admiring you from afar."

You were unable to speak.

"Just say no and I'll go." he took your right hand into his and led it to his mouth, gently kissing it.

"But if there is just the slightest part of you that wants this-" he turned your hand around, kissing your palm now and meeting your gaze, observing you closely.

"..then let me know and I'll do everything to please you." he closed his eyes and concentrated on the brief peck, leading your hand to his cheek and nestling his face into it then.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked after a pause.

"No." you slipped out of reflex. When you realized your answer, and the promptness it came with, you quickly diverted the focus.

"B-but what's with-"

"He's asleep. Don't worry, I'll be gentle and we'll be silent." he reassured.

That's the only thing that has stopped you. In this moment, you couldn't deny the excitement inside of you anymore. You needed him, more than you wanted to admit.

A quick nod was everything he needed to get started. Immediately, he pushed his mouth on yours, passionately making out with your puffy lips. His lips were soft and experienced, you could tell by the way he moved them, dominantly taking the lead to your content. He softly bit your bottom lip, then licked over it, connecting your tongue with his as soon as you opened up.

One hand he placed at the back of your head, pulling you even closer against him, the other was holding your hip, occasionally travelling over your butt then roughly pushing your leg up towards him and against his waist. You could feel his dick hardening in his pants as he reflexively grinded against you. But today was not for his pleasure. Today, he would make sure of your well-being, thinking of your delight as his only need of satisfaction.

The kiss was hot, a burning sensation that made you lust for more, but at the same time it was tender, a fondness inside of his raw attitude that you have never felt before. When he separated both of your lips, you already missed his taste, a mix of peppermint toothpaste and coconut lip balm. He slowly got onto his knees.

"Let me apologize properly." he spoke about the incident at the door earlier.

"Take my forgiveness." were his last words before he lifted up your night gown and caressed the fabric of your underwear.

Your still clothed pussy was already dripping of arousal at the warm touch, his fingers brushing against your lingerie until he shoved it down, your bare vulva now exposed to him, increasing the already present bulge in his pants.

Holy shit, he thought, you truly were perfect.

He made use of his long, slender fingers again and started rubbing your clit, scanning your face to make sure you enjoyed yourself. When you shut your eyes close and hummed in response, he knew he was doing good and joy grew inside of him.

When he felt like the time was ready and you were worked up enough, he shoved a finger inside of you, planting another in right after. You let out a loud moan at this sudden penetration, regretting it immediately as you remembered the sleeping man in the guest room.

"Shhh, we don't want to wake up a certain someone, do we?" Eren teased, continuing his still slower pace.

"You were looking at the moon when I came in. Go back to doing it." he raised his hand and pressed your chin up. Your back was leaned against the window seat, torso hovering over it and head tilted back in your neck as you watched the scenery upside down.

Eren couldn't believe his eyes, you bented over him like that was all he ever wished for.

When he made sure you were in the position he wanted, he shoved a third finger inside of your cunt and quickened the pace. Simultaneously, he took your slip and tucked it into your mouth, stifling your whines.

"Shhh princess, just listen to the sound of your pretty, wet folds."

This sentence alone made you go feral and when all of a sudden he started using his tongue to lick over your clit, you couldn't contain yourself anymore, rolling your eyeballs back in pure bliss. His tongue-game was just too good to be true.

"That's my good girl." he praised when he saw you were struggling and fighting to hold in your moans, using your one hand to tug at his hair and push him nearer while your other arm rested on the surface below you.

"Nah-uh!" Eren denied when you bowed your head, pushing it back again by your chin.

"I know it's hard angel, but I need you to concentrate. Can you do that for me?" Eren asked, glancing up to you and searching for approval.

You affirmed and obeyed, trying to focus on the moon again.

This was so nasty, so dangerous, so wrong, but it felt so right, the way he spoiled your core with his thought-out movements. It was a game of senses, and you loved every second of it.

Eren enjoyed the sight more than anything in his entire life, finally, he thought, he got a taste of what he craved for so long. And your juices were tastier than he could've ever imagined. He took your legs and placed them on top of his shoulders, one at a time, so you wouldn't lose your balance, so that he had a better view and an even better access to your entrance.

"Shit, you'll be the death of me. What a sweet fucking cunt." he cussed between your folds, his low voice vibrating against your skin as his nails digged into the skin of your ass.

It was him now who had to suppress his moans, cock twitching and stretching his pants until it began to hurt. He's never been this hard, what on earth were you and your delicious pussy doing to him?

You felt your release coming, walls clenching fiercely around his fingers. He took notice of it and understood. He quickened his pace, taking in all of your pussy that he could, eating you out like his life depended on it and doing god's work while at it.

The rapid change was too intense for you to not flood you with satisfaction, drowning in the euphoria of Eren making a mess out of you. You announced your high by mildly swinging your legs back and forth, whimpering hard against the fabric in your jaw that thankfully dimmed the noises, but not enough for Eren to hear.

"It's alright baby, go on." he encouraged and you did as he said.

You came all over his face, pleasure overtaking your body as you rocked your hips against his head while getting down your high. He took you through your orgasm by continuing tongue-fucking you until all of his fingers left your insides, slowly retreating one after another until your hole was empty and craving for him again.

You both panted as Eren carefully put you down on your own legs again. Standing up, he guided his fingers to his mouth, cleaning them with his own saliva, relishing in the taste of your cream while murmuring a faint "mmmhh" and narrowly holding eye contact with you. The sheer view of him enjoying your essence made your cheeks heaten up. He then took the cloth out of your mouth, adjusted your silky gown and helped you put on your wet underwear after you've recovered.

You were still out of your senses when Eren leaned his forehead against yours.

"You okay?" he asked and you just nodded, taking a glance at the gorgeous male.

"You did so good, so fucking good." he praised you again.

He pecked your forehead when he unexpectedly felt something tugging at his waist. You were grasping the belt of his pants, trying to remove it and undress him, but he quickly stopped you.

"I owe you…that…" you mumbled hazily, hinting at giving him a blowjob.

"No, no, sweetie. No pay-back with me, remember? I'm gonna take care of that later, don't you worry." he assured, but you wanted to protest.

"But-" you began, but he already interrupted you.

"We're saving that for another time. The things I plan to do to you can't be done in silence." he grinned viciously, once again kissing your head before carrying you to your room.

"But now it's time to sleep."

#eren jaeger #eren smut #eren aot #eren jaeger smut #eren x you #eren x reader #eren yeager #aot smut #aot x you #aot x reader #attack on titan

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sonic-spirit · 5 months

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Sonic HRT 2 - Pharmacy

First - Next

I couldn't let the chance pass to represent my first time filling my T prescription.

I was still living in the Chicago suburbs at the time, and went to the city for my healthcare since I could get treatment following the informed consent model--because like hell was I jumping through the kinds of hoops I'd seen others have to follow if I could help it. It wasn't without its issues, of course. The drive to the clinic was usually about 2-3 hours with traffic, about 1 without. Sucks, but do-able. I was still working for my parents then, and needed to hide my transition from them as much as I could.

So when my dad required me to do a thing, I did it.

Which is how I ended up scheduled to go to a basketball game the night I got my testosterone prescription. The prescription appointment itself was super easy. Get in, let them know what I wanted, let them know I knew what I was getting into, give some blood to use to keep track of my hormone levels an all, and head across the street to the pharmacy.

That was where things got...obnoxious. I got in line, got through line, gave my name, was asked to sit down, and wait. And wait. And wait.

After an hour, I went up to the counter, sure I must've missed them call my name. They didn't have record I'd checked in. I checked in again.

After about two hours, I needed to leave so I could meet with my dad to go to the game. And no excuse I could give would have been good enough to get out of it. I went up to the counter to check on progress. The pharmacy worker I talked to was stressed, and told me they'd call when my prescription was ready for pickup. And that, fortunately, they were a 24-hour pharmacy, so I could do pickup any time.

I left. And got the automated call my prescription was ready about 30 minutes later.

At that point, I started to get mad. Here I was, in an amazing situation, about to get a medicine that would do nothing but help me...and because of my fucking asshole conservative dad who wanted people like me to die, I was driving away from my meds, away from freedom, to go play happy family with someone who'd made it very, very clear he didn't want anything to do with the real me, and would physically enforce his preference if he felt slighted.

I went to the basketball game. But I don't think I hid how much I was seething the whole time. We passed the pharmacy my testosterone was waiting for me at on the way home.

When we parted ways, I got a call from a good friend over the phone to celebrate my prescription, and vented to him about the absurd situation. I was so, so damn excited, and so, so pissed that my so-called "family" were the entire block between me and treatment. That a night that should've been about celebrating was instead spent seething. I'd known for years how much I needed to get away from my shitty, abusive family, but this clarified the point. (Again, for the billionth time. Cuz though I worked at it like fire, I didn't escape until a few years later, and only with a looooooot of help).

My friend was so kind, he listened, and he helped. He was so happy for me, and so ready to listen to my anger. And he asked me a super reasonable question. I was planning on not going out to the pharmacy that night because it was nearly midnight, and I'd had work the next day. And he, very reasonably, asked me if I'd be able to sleep if I just went home. And I wouldn't. So I turned around, and headed back into the city, down the same roads even, for the third time that night!

So that's how I got on testosterone!

#sonic the hedgehog #otherkin #transformation #alterhuman #tf #therian #otherkin hrt #sonic hrt #animal hrt #therian hrt #furry hrt #fictionkin #transmasc #nonbinary #hrt #ftm hrt #trans hrt #transition #transgender

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astroturf-enthusiast · 1 year

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Here's the Ninjago timeline as I personally think of it;

- The Pilots and first 2 seasons take up roughly 1.5 years (Lloyd's 2020 if you will) mostly to give a semi-realistic measure of training requirements

- Rebooted (s3) starts a year later due to the insane technical development and that they've been teachers for a bit

- ToE (s4) starts 8 months later given they all left to grieve Zane and Jay has an entire game show thats got returning contestents

- Possesion (s5) i think is about 3 months after season 4. Shadow of Ronan takes place during this span so it fits that he stole about 2.5 years from them. Tbh I think that museum visit was the first or second mission Lloyd went on after leaving to grieve Garmadon

- Skybound (S6) technically doesn't matter ayoo!! But I think its another 4 months after S5

- DotD is 7 months after Posession, to make space for Skybound and potential post-skybound happenings

- Hands of Time (S7) is like a week after DotD at most- they're literally cleaning up after it. I also think it takes about a week to play out

From here on out there's a wrinkle in the timeline so things may be soft rebooted or altered

- Sons of Garmadon and Hunted (S8/9) start I think 6-8 months later because the Ninja deserve more time to have been on their own without a mentor- and Ninjago city gets some major changes (royalty?) And Lloyd gets on Testosterone and it goes on i think for 3 months

- March of the Oni (S10) is a few weeks after Hunted ends and only lasts like a few days

- Forbidden Spinjitzu (S11) canonically a few months after MotO so I'm going to say 3-4 since that's reasonable for them to slack off before Wu gets pissy about it. I also think these two parts are actually a rather long time frame- not only because of the 70ish years of Ice Emperor rule- but between searching for Aspheera and beating her, then grieving again and traveling realms and THEN they're there for a long while? All in all I'm going to say start to finish its like 3 months

- Prime Empire (S12) about a month after returning from the Never Realm- they've healed wounds, Kai re-masters fire, and Zane has erased 3 Terabytes of SSD data- all is well

- Master of the Mountain (S13) I think is roughly 2 months after S12 because again there's no real basis for why there's time between but I can't imagine one week your Kirito from SAO and only like a week later your in the Elven lands-

- The Island/Seabound (S14) i think this one is a few weeks after MotM because it starts off as a rather "small scale" job about busting a smuggler and thats what I figure they do in the months between big seasons. It just so happens that expands into a much larger plot.

- Crystalized (S15) 1 full year exactly after Seabound ends. Can't elaborate because this ones actually canon

- Dragons Rising I think the merge is about half a year or so after Crystalized and the jump from Merge to current story I think is 3 years but my girlfriend says 5 years so we'll see if either get confirmed or elaborated on

If you think they're about 18 in the pilots, that'll make them around 23 at Crystalized and between 26/28 during Dragons Rising

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electronicwitchcollection · 1 year

Text

~*Urahara Smut*~

This might be my favourite one yet 🫣 please feel free to reblog and comment 🥰

Prompts : "Can you be quiet?" & “Fuck, I wish this room was soundproof”

Say what you wanted about Captain Kyoraku, but the man knew how to throw a party. The lower floor of his manor was filled with drunken shinigami laughing heartily, the clinking of porcelain at yet another loudly proclaimed "cheers" and off key singing to the music battling to be heard over the ruckus. Alcohol and smoke blanketed the warm atmosphere, open patio doors inviting a cool, spring breeze into the room.

The boisterous yells of testosterone filled youth play fighting on the patio had your full attention. You watched amused as Renji and Ikkaku wrestled playfully, throwing around their weight to pin the other. Teasing insults flew about easily, hoping to catch the other off guard. You joined in the encouraging calls, standing next to Yumichika who had the familiar glint in his eye that only a member of the eleventh division had when witnessing a fight.

Renji got the upper hand, throwing all his weight forward he managed to pin Ikkaku on the ground, holding him down on his shoulders as Yumichika counted them down

"3..2..1! We have a winner!"

Renji jumped up, arms in the air celebrating his win boisterously. After a dramatic bow to the cheers from onlookers he offed Ikkaku a hand to his feet, accepting the promise of a rematch later with a manly thump to the shoulder

"who's next?" Renji asked the crowd, eyes falling on you with a big grin "YN? How about it? Fancy a wrestle?" He added a lecherous eyebrow wriggle much to the enjoyment of the gathering men. Your cheeks stained pink at the inebriated jeering pulled forth from the double meaning. You roll your eyes at the snicker Yumichika gave you, elbowing your side gently.

"hard pass" you say with a determined straight face, earning another rupture of laugher and good natured shoving between the men. Taking the moment to escape, you slip back into the heart of the party with a grin on your face. Dry scratch in the back of your throat prompted you to cross the busy room, in search of a drink in the kitchen.

After being swept up in a three way hug with a drunken Hisagi and Kira, the cause of the painfully awful singing you had heard from outside and side stepping a playful swot to your ass, courtesy of Captain Kyoraku as you walked passed him trying to encourage Ukitake to let loose and drink, you finally made it into the kitchen.

It was just as full and loud as the other room, a gaggle of girls giggled loudly as they sampled the snacks laid out. You spotted Matsumoto leaning heavily on a straining Momo, attempting to keep her alcohol loving friend upright. You chuckled at the sight, tipping the bottle of beer you snagged from the counter in her direction in greeting before slipping out into the hall, closing the door behind you.

You enjoyed a party as much as the next person, but you needed a moment of quiet amongst the madness. Sitting down heavily on the wooden staircase, you opened your drink and drank enthusiastically. With a sigh you leaned back onto the staircase, elbows propping you up on the step behind you. You listened to the muffled noise of the party, taking a moment to relax in the calm. Closing your eyes, you let your head fall back, tapping your foot to the beat of the music.

"Hiding, are we?"

The unexpected voice startled you, you jerked forward almost comically, beer sloshing out the top of the bottle to wet your hand. Your hand rested over your suddenly rapidly beating heart, eyes falling on the source of your fright. Kisuke Urahara stood at the foot of the stairs, fanning himself with that ridiculous fan he always had on him. Though the fan covered the lower half of his face, you knew he was grinning proudly by the crinkle in his mischievous eyes.

"Don't do that!" You scolded him sternly, wiping your beer soaked hand on your clothes. Sneaky bastard was quiet, you'd give him that. All the years working in the second division had made him almost impossible to detect unless he allowed you to do so. While it was an excellent trait to have when on duty as a Shinigami, it was unbecoming of the captain to use his light feet to scare unassuming parties, especially when involved wasting the alcohol you were enjoying "You scared me half to death"

The glint in his eyes only magnified at your less than pleased expression. He wafted his fan gently, the unruly tuft of blond hair that sat atop his nose fluttered in the breeze created

"sorry, sorry" The musical lilt of his voice sounded playfully behind his fan as he placated you with a lofty hand movement "I was merely curious as to why you were hiding out here alone"

"you enjoy creeping about and you know it" you scoff at the mock innocence he tried to portray, you knew him too well. He snapped his fan shut against his hand, sneaking it into the inside of his Black Kosode. The wrap of the kosode was loose, showing off the hardened, pale chest below. Not quite as lavishly open as Kyoraku tended to wear, though toeing the line of decency tantalisingly.

"you're avoiding the question" he teased, the clacking of his geta on the marble floor accompanied his walk over to you. He sat down next to you on the step, large frame invading your personal space. He reached out and stole the beer from your hand, raising it to his lips to greedily drink down. You watched transfixed at the way his Adam's apple bobbed with each swallow. From this angle, you could see how sharp his jaw was, defined..manly.

"there's a kitchen full of drinks in the kitchen you know. You didn't have to come all the way out here to steal mine" You told him with the perfect deadpan look. The boyish grin you had in return was worth the lack of drink currently in your hand. That was one of the things you enjoyed most about these parties. Seeing the Captains and Lieutenants relax and have fun, act like normal people for a change. It was refreshing to see Urahara out of the lab, socialising with the living, and not locking himself away to work on what ever new invention his brilliant mind had cooked up.

"maa, beer is supposed to be shared between friends" he handed you back the bottle, holding onto it teasingly when you tried to take it back. You raised an amused eyebrow at him, lips curved prettily in a smile. Your fingers brushed together against the cool chill of the glass as you had your little tug of war, the liquid splashing about threatening to spill

"we're friends?" You ask him once he released the bottle back into your possession, so suddenly that a few drops managed to escape, slowly sliding down the glass. Absentmindedly, you licked up the length of the bottle, chasing away the sticky trail. You got on well enough with him, chatted a few times during these parties, said hello when passed in the street. Not exactly on friendship terms though. You take a long pull of the tangy beer, missing the hungry look flashing in his eyes at the erotic way you cleaned the bottle

. "I think so" The small smile on his face didn't falter as he watched your tongue dip out to catch the moisture left on your lips "so tell me, friend, why are you out here alone?"

"I'm not alone" you lean into his space to nudge his shoulder with your own playfully "Im drinking with my buddy"

You chuckled at the way he cocked his head to the side, giving you a look that clearly said he was going to keep asking until he had an answer that satisfied his curious mind. "I just needed a moment to relax. I'm afraid I'm not as blissfully drunk as the others" not for lack of trying, as you took another drink before willing handing the bottle over to share.

Urahara took the bottle gratefully, lifting it to his lips he muttered out before drinking "that's not nearly as entertaining as what I was hoping you were up to "

"what did you think I was doing?" You asked perplexed. He shrugged, finishing the bottle he laid it on the step next to him. He stood up unexpectedly, turning to face you with a devilish grin, holding out a large calloused hand

"come explore with me"

"explore? where?" You slipped your hand into the one offered. Warm fingers encased your hand, pulling you from the steps quicker than you had anticipated, causing you to stumble into his deceivingly solid frame with a huff. His devious grin only widened as you straightened yourself away from his chest, dusting of pink colouring your cheeks

"upstairs. I bet Kyoraku has some good alcohol hidden away up there"

"we shouldn't" you weakly protest as he sneaked an arm around your waist, sitting a little too low to be considered friendly. "I don't want to be reprimanded for sneaking into a Captains bedroom uninvited "

"we can't get into trouble if we don't get caught" he whispered into your ear, hot breath tickled at the hairs covering it, making you shudder slightly. You were painfully aware at how close his hand was in proximity to your ass as he urged your forward, ghosting it across your body as he removed it. "It'll be fun"

You watched as he began the climb up the stairs, soft clicks of his shoes steadily climbing higher. Your mind quickly raced through all the possibilities of what could go wrong before sigh defeated. You never could resist satisfying a curiosity, "Wait up" you call after him, hurrying up the stairs to catch up.

———————————————————

After discovering a bathroom and what seemed to be an unused office, Urahara lead you into a third room which could only be the master bedroom. Urahara let out a small whistle at the sight, a large bed dominated the room, deep blue bed sheets pulled neatly over the mattress. An array of matching pillows scattered across the headboard, plump and with a silky sheen. A small sofa and coffee table nestled against the wall behind the bedroom door had a small drinks cabinet next to it.

The room had two large windows letting in the soft glow from the moon, two doors sat on either ends of the room. Urahara made his way to investigate the contents of the drink's cabinet, crouching down to the balls of his feet. You crossed the room to the bed, running your fingers over the silky sheets. They were as soft as they looked, allowing your fingertips to glide effortlessly over them. You heard the clink of bottles bumping together followed by a satisfying pop of a cork over the hum of the party below.

"I knew it" Urahara said, pulling your focus from the bed. He stood with a bottle of sake in hand, holding it up to the moonlight to read the label. "Kyoraku always has good sake" You watched as he drank straight from the bottle before handing it over to you

You accept the offering, shaking your head with a smile "we're going to get in so much trouble"

The grin he gave you was wide and playful as he sank down onto the bed, bouncing lightly to test the comfort. The bed protested in the form of creeky springs "what Kyoraku doesn't know, can't hurt us" the dramatic wink he gave made you grin in return

Not finding any fault in that logic, you surrendered to the situation you were in. You sat down on the bed next to Urahara before indulging in the sake. The tart, fruity liquid tantalised your taste buds, the burn of the alcohol warming up your throat. You felt the warmth associated with alcohol surge through your body, relaxing your tense muscles.

You handed over the drink, Uraharas fingers brushed over your own. Rough with burns and callouses , the texture sent a shock of arousal through you. You felt the warmth radiated off him in waves, burning through your clothes where your thighs brushed, arms grazed. Urahara watched your face intently, eyes taking in every curve and line of your face as he brought the bottle to his lips. Neck of the bottle pillowed against his full bottom lip, head tilted back, his messy blond hair caught in the moonlight practically glowed.

You watched transfixed as his tongue darted out to moisten his lips, slightly parted with suddenly loud breathing. The smell of the fruity sake on his breath was inviting, melting harmoniously with his own natural musk. The slight undertone of latex and the tang of chemicals enriched the aroma surrounding him. Urahara laid a heavy hand onto the bed behind you, leaning his weight to dip towards you. Your breath caught in your throat at the way his steely grey eyes fixated on you. The way they searched intently into the depths of your own. They drop down to your lips slowly, inching forward as if to appreciate them fully.

The weight of his gaze and the warmth of his proximity had you leaning closer. The hazy cover of alcohol dimmed the sensible thoughts you should've been having. The air thickened around you, pushing you closer together in an unbreakable pull. Half laden eyes watched you carefully, looking for the sign to back away or the invitation to lean in closer. Your tongue nervously darted out, separating your lips, inviting him closer.

Urahara placed the sake inbetween his strong thighs, opening up a palm to cup your jaw. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip, before leaning in to close the gap. Your breath mingled hotly between you, eyes fluttering closed at the promise of soft lips moulding to your own. Fingers gripped into the back of your neck, angling your face perfectly.

A shrill squeal broke through the erotic atmosphere between you. A breath away from making contact, you jumped away from eachother startled. A girly giggle and the thundering of heavy steps on the staircase filtering through the open bedroom door had you jumping from the bed. Wide eyed you grabbed Uraharas arm, shaking it nervously "We're going to get caught, genius" you whisper loudly to him, a deep chuckle increasingly getting closer the the bedroom you were hiding in.

Uraharas head whipped side to side, deciding on the best corse of action he grabbed hold of your wrist, thrusting the sake into your hand and dragging you willingly across the bedroom. He opened the door you had noticed to the left of the room, hurrying in and tugging you sharply into his chest. He closed the door quietly slipping you both into darkness. You detangled yourself from Urahara pushing you into his smooth chest, your back lightly hit the door behind you. You held your breath at the noise, waiting for whomever had come upstairs to discover you. The main bedroom door slamming shut made you jump, your hands automatically gripped onto Uraharas top, fisting the open neckline.

You heard the deep, sultry undertone of Kyorakus muffled voice in the next room, a feminine reply cut short by a thump of bodies hitting a wall. Your head shoots up to stare into Uraharas shaded face, absolutely mortified. The devious grin you found on his face had you thumping him on the chest "what are we going to do now, genius?" You whisper harshly at him.

You felt the silent snicker he gave by the shuddering of his chest. Eyes adjusting to the change in lighting, you discovered he had pulled you into a closet, a small closet. Clothes hung high on one wall, draws nestled neatly below the hems of the hanging garments. The other wall, thankfully clear, giving you enough room to not be nestled in Kyorakus clothes. The small wall opposite the door held a small circular window, mercifully bathing the room in moonlight, cutting through the darkness

"the window" you nodded behind Urahara, urging him gently with your fingers. Urahara made a tight spin, taking two steps to cross the distance and examine the window. You laid the sake down on one of the cabinets tops, watching as His hands circled the frame gently, before turning back to you, head already shaking.

"no good, it doesn't open" you could hear the amusement in his whispered voice, clearly not as effected by the embarrassing situation as you were. The familiar creek of the bed springs sounded out, followed by a desperate moan. Your hands flew to your mouth to catch the gasp you almost let escape.

"oh my god" you whisper, all too familiar with what those signs mean. Your slender fingers covered your face, heat rushing through your body as you listened to the sounds of Captain Kyoraku engaging in the beginnings of sex with his next willing partner. How did you always let yourself get into these situations? You had only wanted a moments silence, now you were trapped with the man you had nearly kissed in the closet of another man, evidently doing more than just kissing if you were to judge the situation by the next obnoxiously loud moan.

Sliding your hands down your face you let them fall heavily back to your side. Heat rushed through your body, reacting to the live porn going on in the room the other side of the door. The feminine breathy moans had your thighs squeezing together, needy throb from between your legs, jealous that you weren't the one to feel such pleasure. Your skin tingled at the yearning to feel strong hands bring you to the brink of pleasure.

So focused on the room beyond the closet you failed to notice the change in the atmosphere until it hit you overwhelmingly, stealing your breath away. Urahara stood in closer proximity than you realised, taller frame blocking half of the moons warming glow. You could hear his deep slow breathing, feel his body vibrate with tension. You looked up into his face cast in shadow, moon glowing around his wide silhouette.

You saw his hand twitching beside him, itching to reach out and grab you. The woman calling out Shunsuis name had you both slamming together in a feverish kiss. Urahara used his superior strength to push you back into the wall, pinning you with his lips. His hands found purchase at the curve of your hips, pushing himself into you. His soft, demanding lips parted your own, his tongue hungrily caressing your own as he dominated your mouth.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down to you desperately. Your fingers scratched the back of his head, threading through his hair to grip it tightly. You could tell the sounds from the adjoining room had excited him as much as it did you by the hardened length pressed against your hip. You moan into the kiss, Urahara swallowing it greedily, grinding himself into you.

Your hands traveled down from his neck, over the hardened planes of his chest and into his kosode. Your fingers memorised the smooth muscles, soaked in the heat from his defined abs. Your lips separated, panting hotly between you. Your hands greedily pushed away his kosode, searching for more bare skin. Urahara made quick work of your sash, undoing the knot securing it you your body and dropping it to the floor. You are breasts hit the air, nipples hardening rapidly.

Pushing off your top, Urahara ducked his head to capture a dusty pink nipple into his mouth and sucked enthusiastically. Your back arched off the cool wall, thrusting your breast into his willing mouth. Urahara helped you remove his top before bringing his hand up to your neglected globe, squeezing it approvingly in his rough hand. Your head fell back to knock into the wall, panting deeply as the spikes of pleasure rushed through you, dampening your panties.

Rolling your nipple between his fingers, Urahara left your breast, flicking his tongue against your hardened bud before rising. His breath ghosted over your face, hand caressing over your exposed side to tease a finger along the waist band of your bottoms. "Can you be quiet?" You felt him whisper against your lips. At your breathless nod he closed the distance, pressing his lips against yours in a breath stealing kiss.

The shout pulled from a powerful orgasm in the bedroom covered the sound of Uraharas knees hitting the floor. Skilled fingers pulled down your soaked panties along with your bottoms, pulling them from your ankles with your cooperation. Your thighs trembled as you felt large hands smooth their way up your legs, a trail of heat rushing up to your core. Kisses teased the supple flesh of your inner thigh, hands nudging your legs further apart. A sharp nip the the skin made you gasp, his wet tongue soothing the area had your head swimming in arousal.

The springs whining beyond the door distracted you momentarily, reminding you of the situation you were in. A stubbled chin scratching the sensitive mound between your legs had your head snapping back down. Urahara grinned at you wolfishly before surging forward, burying his face between your legs for a lavish kiss with your clit. Your hands reached out to grab fistfuls of messy blond hair, helping keeping you up right as your legs trembled beneath you. Darkened with lust eyes bore into your own, commanding you to keep eye contact as his devilishly skilled tongue twirled around your most sensitive area. The scruff on his jaw brought new sensations to your supple flesh, adding to the stimulation.

There wasn't a more sinful sight than that of Kisuke Urahara hungrily devouring your core while maintaining eye contact, of that you were certain. A quiet whimper escaped your lips, pleasure rippling through you. Tightening your hold on his hair, Urahara groaned into your pussy, the gravely tone sending vibrations to your swollen clit. Your top teeth snagged your bottom lip, biting down to quiet the desperate moan threatening to make itself known.

Uraharas hand snaked it's way around your thigh, lifting it easily to drape over a broad shoulder. Inching forward into the new space, he pushed two fingers through your dampened folds, teasing your hot silky inner walls. Your hips bucked forward, chasing the feeling of being penetrated. The deep sultry tones of Kyoraku sounded through the quiet, adding to the lustful haze you were lost in. The rhythmic tapping of a headboard hitting the wall set a steady rythem for the nimble fingers fucking into you.

Lip threatening to break and bleed, you opted to raise your hand, biting down on the fleshy part of your thumb. "Urahara" you mumbled around your flesh, praising the steady rhythm building you up to a euphoric orgasm. You hips grounded down onto his thrusting fingers, fucking your self on his digits. Talented tongue swirling around your clit, pressing into it firmly before wrapping his lips securely and sucking deeply. Fingers brushed against the spongy pleasure spot inside you, along with the powerful suction had you coming apart.

The hand twisted up in the mop of hair tightened, pushing him away wetly from your over stimulated bud as you tumbled blindly into an orgasm. Your legs shook with the pleasure, as your head dropped back in a silent moan. Your release coated his busy fingers, riding you through your orgasm. The wetness reached your thighs, cooling rapidly against your skin.

Darkness around the edges of your vision faded as his fingers slipped from your clenching pussy, greedily trying to pull them back in. Breathing hard you looked down at the erotic sight. Urahara knelt at your feet, head pushed back by your own fingers in his hair. He looked up at you with a carnal desire, eyes locked onto yours in a predatory stare.

Grip softening in his locks, your hand slid down to his jaw, the scratch of his scruff prickled against your palm. Dampened with your arousal, Uraharas tongue dragged across his lips, savouring your taste, not willing to loose a drop. Gracefully he rose, caging you between the wall and his sculptured body. Defined chest pressed against your soft breasts, nipples rubbing against the taunt skin. Breath painted with the smell of your arousal invaded your space, wet lips allowing you to taste yourself in a languid kiss.

"call me Kisuke" he breathed into your neck, leaving feathering kisses at the juncture where it met your shoulder. Your eyes slip closed at the lingering kisses he left, breathing out his name in a prayer. The sound of his breathy name falling from your lips had him rolling his hips, reminding you of his neglected cock held prisoner behind his clothes. Fingers roamed over his impressive abs, dipping into the contours of his muscles. Following down the trail of hair you hooked your fingers into his waist band, tugging them down eagerly.

Kisuke assisted in pushing the garments away, eagerly allowing his straining cock to spring free. Your hand wrapped around the smooth length, thumb circling the leaking, bulbous head to spread the ejaculate seeping out. You felt the shuddering breath against your neck as he thrust into your hand, chasing the exquisite squeeze around his member. "Kisuke" you moan wantonly over his head, rolling your fist up his arousal.

Urahara straightened, two firm hands wrapped around your legs and threw you up the wall effortlessly to meet his desperate look. You guided his length to your core, wetting the head through your dampened folds. Urging him in, Kisuke thrusted forward, sliding through your clenching walls to the hilt. Your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers returning to his messed up hair.

Kisuke subconsciously began thrusting into you in time with the slamming headboard in the room beyond. The drag of his thick cock stretching your inner walls almost painfully. The angle had him hitting your sweet spot with feverish accuracy. Strong hands cupped your ass, kneading the juicy globes appreciatively. Head buried in your neck, he nibbled at your skin, soothing the nips with a strong swipe of his tongue. You moan into his ear, pleasure rippling through your body.

Uraharas hand flew up to cup over your mouth, muffling the cry your lustful mind couldn't stifle. "Fuck, I wish this room was soundproof" he growled into your ear, powerful hips snapping into you eliciting a high keen smothered by his palm "I bet I can make you scream louder than that lovey lass in there"

You panted harshly behind the hand, trying to suck in a lungful of air. Your mind was swimming dizzily, lost in the pleasure given to you. Your fingers dug into Kisukes shoulders, nails marking his skin with Cresent shape indents. His thrusting increased with the rapid banging next door, plowing through you as the woman screamed out in toe curling pleasure. The gruff manly grunts that followed added to your arousal, locking eyes with Urahara pleadingly as the headboard ceased its racket, springs no longer whining.

"stay quiet" Urahara whispered, removing his hand at your nod to resume its place on your ass. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder to muffle any sounds that could escape. Using the leverage Kisuke had on your ass, he pulled you down onto every thrust, making you feel every rigid inch he pushed into your soaking pussy.

You were in ecstasy. Your body buzzed and vibrated with unmeasurable pleasure. Desire oozed from you at every thick drag his cock had in your tight walls. Everything around you was Kisuke. His handsome face, contorted in pure pleasure stared at you intently, obscuring everything else in the room. His hard, powerful body pressed against your own, everywhere he touched hot and pleasurable, overwhelming your senses. The air in the closet was thick and warm, the subtle smell of your sex melting together, musky and heady. The sounds of sweat slicked skin slapping together, desperate breathy moans and the embarrassingly wet noises coming from your joining bodies.

The introduction of his thumb pressing firmly into your clit had you spiralling. Quick short movements against the over sensitive bud had you slamming your eyes shut, a bright light exploding behind them. You could feel your impending orgasm race towards you, feeling the tension about to snap you bit down into his shoulder, muffling the cry you gave. Unrelenting hips slammed you into the wall repeatedly, Kisuke chasing after his own orgasmic bliss as you clamped down tightly. Spasming walls and the sudden gush of liquid surged him on. Orgasm fading away, you released the hold you had on his shoulder; visible wet teeth marks left of the otherwise unblemished skin.

Your body sagged in his grip, endorphins giving your a boneless feel as all your muscles relaxed. With half hooded eyes you raised your head, body jerking along with his erratic thrusts. Kisukes dark grey eyes held your own, panting with the force he used to bring himself to the edge. Nudging your nose with his own, you tilted your chin up to accept his desperate kiss. His tongue coated your own lazily, a stark contrast to the way he plowed his dick into you erratically.

Desperate thrusts turned sloppy, loosing all sense of rhythm as he came deep inside you. He groaned into your mouth and your swallowed it gladly. The fingers he had on your ass pinched in bruisingly, holding you flush against his twitching member as he exploded his hot seed deep within you. Urahara gently laid his sweaty forehead on your own, heating up the space between you as his breathing fought to return to normal. The hair messily falling over his nose tickled your own, you brushed it back only to watch amused as it immediately fell back into place over his nose. Hiss fingers eased up from the grip he had on your ass as he came down from his high. soothing the area with the palm of his hands.

Cock softening inside you, your legs went limp around his waist, struggling to hold yourself up. Urahara pulled himself free from your depths, wincing at how sensitive he was. Carefully he helped you to lower your legs, assuring you could hold your weight before loosening his grip. His hands rubbed up to your hips, rubbing his thumb over the silky skin. He kissed you sweetly, lips lingering on your own as you enjoyed the post orgasmic glow. ——————————————————

Both fully dressed you had kissed lightly in the quiet darkness. Gentle fingers caressed your cheek, whispering sweet words of your sudden frenzied love making. When loud snores vibrated through the room, you broke the silence with a whisper "you think it's safe to sneak out?" Urahara rested a finger onto his lips, warning you to remand quiet. Silently he moved to the closet door, opening it a fraction to peer out into the room. He beckoned your forward with a curl of his fingers. Picking up your shoes, not trusting yourself to be as quiet as Urahara when wearing them, you sneaked your way over.

His fingers intertwined with your own, holding your hand securely as he pushed the door open enough for you both to slip out. With held breath you slowly crossed the room. You couldn't resist darting your eyes to to bed in the centre of the room. Kyoraku lay on his back snoring loudly, wide hairy chest exposed to the room. One strong leg laid kicked out from the sheet, thankfully still covering his modesty. Dark brown hair covered the face of the woman nestled into his side, making it impossible for you to identify her.

Urahara squeezing your hand had your eyes snapping back to his. His eyebrows were raised comically at your staring, teasing smirk on his kissed swollen lips. You sent him a toothy grin at being caught staring. With a playful shake of his head, Urahara urged you to cross the room, avoiding the messily thrown clothes that littered the floor.

One in the hall, Urahara closed the door behind you with a soft click. You both released a deep breath, tension finally broken now that you hadn't been caught in a compromising position . Urahara picked up his speed, dragging you along behind him as he hurried to the stairs. Practically running down the wooden staircase you began giggling. Adrenaline surged through your veins as Kisuke threw open the front door the the manor, running through the gardens with your laugh chasing behind him. He turned to see you running behind him, wide mischievous grin back on his handsome face. The very same grin that had gotten you trapped in that closet in the first place.

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