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#ALSO THE ‘maybe i’m just being selfish’ LINE
cobrakatharsis · 1 year
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bloodsport by raleigh ritchie as a lawrusso song from johnny’s pov [literally lying dead on the floor]
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entirelytoooobsessed · 2 months
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needy!drunk!gojo satoru x gn reader-based off this post
synopsis: gojo is a lightweight, vowed to sobriety to keep whatever bit of shame he has left to his name. but he really can't help but take a few shots when he sees you doing the same.
warnings: sub gojo, gn dom reader, both reader and gojo are drunk, gojo's a lightweight, handjob, semi-public sex, he cries-like a lot, he also had nipple piercings bc i couldn't help myself, reader's kinda a hoe, feelings, think that's it
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The warm press of hands against your hips is what makes you gasp. The soft touch of lips traced over your throat is what makes your head spin.
What a delightful feeling. 
What a human desire. 
“Touch me.” 
The room spins around you, the warm feeling of being held making you sigh, leaning into it. The scent of him, the greedy claiming of his presence in your mind. So selfish. Of him not to think of the effect that this has on you. To not care about the war going on in your mind. 
“Touch me, please?” A whine this time. A meek sound, spilling from his lips, making your body light up in return. 
“Satoru,” He practically purrs at his name on your lips. Pathetic. How easily riled up he is. How easily you’re able to make his knees feel weak. How much he loves the sound of your lips forming his name.
“Mmmm, say it again.”His nose sweeps delicately over your neck, working over a heavy sigh as he tries not to get drunk on the smell of your shampoo. Or more drunk than he already is, that is. 
“Your name?” You mutter slowly. 
“Yeah….” His words have been gradually slurring over the span of the night, with the amount of shots he’s taken, with the amount of drinks he’s had. With the inches of space between you closing until there’s nothing between you but the thin layer of clothing that does nothing to hide the bulge he shamelessly presses against you.
Even so, you know that he's always been far beyond measures of shame, but this is a whole new level, the way he continues to press his body impossibly closer to yours, his broad chest against your shoulders, his hips canting against you. 
You’ve always hated how he’s been taller than you, his incessant teasing when he throws you over his shoulder as you yell and pound on his back. He takes advantage of it all too often.
You don’t mind now.
“Why, Satoru?” Maybe you’re cruel for the teasing, for liking your friend’s reactions all too much. Shivering, nearly violently, throbbing against your lower back. 
He whines, “Sounds so…-so much better when you say it. Makes me wanna just…”
His breath is heavy with the scent of alcohol and you’re still not entirely sure how Shoko and Suguru managed to get him to break his vow of sobriety. Not when you’d seen him turning them down for the first bit of the night.
The next time you saw him he was getting dragged along by you, gulping down whatever liquids you shoved into his hands. 
With his feverish hands tracing up your body and his sinful hips pressing against yours. Muttering about how he wanted you and needed you, whispering about things he'd never have said in the harsh reality of day, but was that not the beauty of getting intoxicated beyond belief?
“Hmm? Just what?” 
He simpers, “Wan’ you to touch me, play with me, like I’m just a toy for you~” He grinds slowly and you wish you could kiss him. Kiss him until he’s breathless and red and can’t remember his own name. Dazed and dizzy and muttering gibberish while loosely gripping onto you. 
You don’t think if you’d even have to kiss him to do that right now, but the taste of his perfectly pink lips would just be an added pleasure to this delectable mix.
But you shouldn’t. And you won’t.
Not because he’s your friend and this will surely be crossing some unspoken line.
Or because it’ll throw off the axis of your entire friend group. You'd never let that stop you before. And you wouldn’t let something like that stop you now. Not when you've clumsily pressed your lips to Shoko’s, high out of your mind and hidden under the blanket of dark nights. Or when you let your hands wander along the lengths of Suguru’s skin, promising to make him feel things he’d never felt before. 
Not because Satoru Gojo is one of your best friends.
But because Satoru Gojo is currently drunk and so are you. And despite the fact that you’re practically drowning in the warmth of alcohol and all that is Satoru Gojo, you want whatever you do with him to mean something-be something. Not just a clumsy night of drunken mistakes and hazy flashes, not something you’ll forget in the morning and agree to never speak of again.
He’s too…important for you to treat him like that. And you’re too selfish to let anything you do to him to mean anything but the fact that he would be yours. But he’s not yours. And you’re not his. And all this thinking is only making a steady ache build behind your temples.
You sigh, twisting around in his arms. Blue eyes blinking back at you, slowly searching over yours and fuck, his lips are so kissable. Pink and plump, trapped between his too white teeth.
“Let’s get you back to Shoko and Suguru, they’ll take you home and make sure you don’t kill yourself.” You’re not entirely sure where they went or why they’ve left the two of you behind, all alone where they'd know neither of you were in the right mind to make good choices.
 “No,” He shakes his head, white hair tossing, ruffled and mussed from a night of clinging to you like this. Far too close for comfort though you still couldn’t bring yourself to pry him off.  “No, n-no, don’t wan’you  to leave…” 
You begin to tug him off either way. He’s not sane enough to make decisions for himself and you don’t think you are either. “C’mon baby, let’s go find your friends.”
He shudders and grips your hand, refusing to move an inch. Tears pool in his eyes and your jaw hardens.
You sigh. You didn’t know why you thought this was a fight you’d win either way. It was a losing game trying to argue with Satoru. His lips wobble and you can feel your resolve withering away by the second. Tearing down every single defence you put up around, being ripped away by him and his stupid tears as if they were paper. 
“Don’t leave.” He whispers and he looks pathetic but you know you’ll give in to him if he asks you to. “Don’t leave me…please.”
You cup his cheek and he purrs, melting into the touch as if he were a cat, pushing into you for more attention. Basking in your attention as you sweep his tears away with your thumb, letting him close his eyes and pull you into the soft cushioning of a booth. 
You feel heady or maybe it’s the alcohol talking. More tears roll down his cheeks, tracking along the slopes of his flushed face. Crystalline and sacred and you realize with a twist in the pit of your stomach that it’s arousing.
The sight of him. His sweat-soaked skin and his eyes big and glassy. And the fragile mask he’s worked so hard to keep up deteriorating beneath your very eyes, each tear breaking and cracking apart the image of the powerful man he claims to be.
A crumpled facade of a God into a something more, something divine and corrupt, something vulnerable and weak and so very human in your arms, falling apart by a mere touch.
Maybe you’re more fucked up than you realized. Maybe you’re just horny. Maybe because it’s him. And he’s Satoru Gojo and everything about him is perfect. Powerful. Transcendent. A God against humans, finally falling apart like this, before you, ready to fall to his knees. Perhaps he was always meant to.
“Don’t wanna be alone…don’t wanna…ngh~” 
His hips thrust up, a whiny gasp working past his lips. He pants as if he’s run a marathon and you want to do such delectably sinful things to him and you’re sure you could do them all and more and he’d only beg and plead for more.
Perhaps…
“Kiss me.”
Your heart thuds in your chest, you wonder if he can hear with how loud it is. “Satoru,”
He whines and grinds and you moan. And it’s a losing battle.
“Shut up,” he insists, hand cupping the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair, almost obsessively. “Shut up and just kiss me.”
“You know we can’t. You-“
“I, am perfectly fine.” His words are a pant, a plea, whispered with a kind of reverence of a worshipper to a god. “Just kiss me, fuck me. Use me,” white eyelashes flutter, blue looking all the bluer rimmed with red and filled with tears. “Use me until you’re bored of me, until there’s nothing left-i don’t care.” He breathes, desperate and pleading and looking like he’s ready to get down on his damn knees on the dirty sticky floor. “Just-please.”
A losing fucking battle. 
Maybe it always was. Trying to keep your hands off him, now, you realized it was like setting a treat on a dogs nose and telling them to wait. A crazy amount self control with the eventual prize just in sight. 
All you can think as you cup his cheeks, flushed and wet from tears, warm against your hands is how fucking pretty he is. How you want him more than you think you’ve ever wanted anything. “Fuck, Satoru,” you mutter and he moans deep and appreciatively and then you’re pulling him in to slide your lips against his.
 And now all you can think about is how much of a dumbass you are for not doing this sooner.
He tastes like alcohol and cigarettes-when he had one you don’t know but you do know that it’s the most intoxicating mix you’ve ever encountered. You feel like you’re floating, high off his taste and his moans; like he’s a drug and you’re the addict, injecting him straight into the vein. 
It's far from elegant and he’s not perfect at it in the way you’d expect from a man as beautiful as him-godhood hasn’t blessed him in every aspect. But he’s desperate and he's eager to take everything you give, mewling against your lips. 
He’s so needy and it's crazy the way it sends you into a sort of reverie. His hands gripping your hips hard, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go, like he’s hoping you’re real and not a apparition of drunken hysteria. He pulls you closer, as if you could get close enough that no one could find where you ended and he started, that you might be able to meld into one.
You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same sentiment. If you didn’t try your hardest to do the exact same; nails pressing into his skin, making him whine as you tilted his head back and slipped your tongue into his mouth, exploring, feeling, taking, using. 
Just like he told you to do.
He vibrates against you, nearly shaking with choked noises. He mutters soundless words, each and every one swallowed by you as soon as they’re spoken. Pleas and prayers, worships and praises. 
You’d show him what real ascension felt like.
You probably should be embarrassed, or at the very least shameful to be putting on such a show in front of what you know are watching eyes. But you know that Gojo is far past shame at this point and you're too enamoured by the beauty that is Satoru Gojo clinging to you like he’s about to break.
To be honest, you can't find it in yourself to give a shit about any of them. About anything but him, focusing your attention on devouring him whole as he shatters, ready to catch every piece as they fall into your waiting hands. No matter if the shards rip apart your skin and leave you a bloody mangled mess.
You break away first, fighting a smile at his whine as you pull away from him, panting. 
He looks unravelled, messy. His usual flirty facade lost to pleasure. His watery eyes and heartbroken whines gone as well. Overwhelmed by swollen lips and gasps to make up for lost air. A blush like he’s just realized where he is, burying his face into your neck to hide from the probing eyes. To whisper, "You're too good at that, you know?.”
You bark a laugh and he nuzzles into your skin. 
And then you’re redirecting him to your lips again.
In a flurry of hands and lips, messy steps and you’re clumsily stumbling into the bathroom. Quickly, Satoru is shoved against the door, fingers fumbling for the lock.
Your lips find his neck, fluttering a barrage of open-mouthed kisses over the heated skin, dragging your tongue along his thrumming heartbeat. 
He whines and he begs, muttering nonsense that makes it to your ears but not to your head as you hum against him. Slender fingers knit through your hair, holding you close to him, pleading for you to never leave him.
“Touch me, touch me, touch me.” He repeats, slurred and slow, his eyes drooped shut, his voice husky with want, with lust and everything he’s been just barely repressing all this time.
But you've only ever been a slave to his desires.
So you respond in tenfold, nipping and sucking, leaving evidence that you've been here, staking a claim that doesn't exist and maybe never will but for tonight maybe you can play pretend.
Because he keens when your teeth sink into his skin and his back arches, pressing evidence of his wanton yearnings against you like you might devour him whole.
Like he wants you to.
He quieter when he whispers something that could change everything. “Love me?”
Your heart pounds in your chest but you’d never turn him down. 
Fingers deftly undo the buttons on his tight-fitting button up, revealing porcelain-like skin underneath. His nipples are hard and pink and fucking pierced. 
He gasps when you touch them, pinching them between your thumb and forefinger.
And you've never been particularly mean but you can make an exception for the God in front of you, leaving him to tortuous touches all while he throbs and thrusts into nothing but the fabric of his too-tight pants, whining from the stimulation that's all too little.
He's been begging for this all night. Whispering dirty words like a little tease, like a shameless slut.
He got you all riled up and for that you think that he should take his own share of teasing.
For retribution, for your own piece of mind and the pleasure it is to watch him squirm against the wall, eyes squeezed shut and tearstained and begging in small breathless whimpers barely over a whisper.
But you've never been able to resist him long, not then, not now and not ever.
Your hand finally reaches for his waistband, his body shivering with the feeling of your fingers dipping onto hot, untouched skin.
But he stops you.
His hand, large and pale landing over your own in a quick moment of lucidity.
His voice emerged, a whisper of uncertainty and longing. "Y-You'll take care of me?"
You met his vulnerability with a promise because you could never leave him with any less. "Yes," your words a whispered caress, a undying oath in itself, a vow that you'd take beyond this in whatever may happen.
Your lips brush over his ear, his eyes squeezing shut as your hand wraps around him, dragging a ruinous moan from deep in his throat.
"I promise, I will."
And your hand is wrapping around him, hot and wet and hard, all for you. Just for you. And his head is turned off, just sensations and feeling and you.
Just you.
"F-fuck, yes, please," so broken, fragile almost as ironic as it is. "Yes, pl-please, feels so go-good."
He doesn't last long and you don't know if it's from all the teasing you've administered or from how long he's been worked up for.
But you rather like the thought of him being sensitive enough that your voice and a few strokes is enough to bring him to the edge.
To have him pulsing in your hand while his arms wrap around your shoulders, blunt nails scraping into you skin as his hips thrust with reckless abandon.
His body quivering with pleasure as your hand forms a loose hole for him to fuck into, your thumb playing with the sensitive head of his dick.
"Please, please I need it, need it so bad," And he has no right sounding this good, looking this good while fucking into your hand like a goddamn dog. "Need it more than anything."
He always has been one for dramatics.
His head falls back against the wall, throat bobbing with the moan deep in his throat, fuck how the marks of your teeth stand out on the pale skin of his neck. Your lips permanent on his body for now, forever maybe if he'll let you keep replacing them.
"Fuck, Satoru," You free hand threads through his head, pushing his lips to meet yours, messy and slopping as he arches against you, hips thrusting erratically to match your pace. Keening when you nip at him, teeth tugging at his bottom lip, nails scratching at his scalp sending tingles down every part of his body.
He breaks away with a gasp and a cry when and only when he absolutely has to, eyes shining and chest heaving with breaths to fill his burning lungs.
And he's crying. And he's beautiful.
More beautiful than anyone or anything you've ever seen in your life.
"Shit, I'm close, m' so fuckin' close-!"
You’re half out of your mind and you couldn’t feel more sane. Like this was meant to happen-like he was meant to be yours. 
"Don' stop, please don't stop," he gasps, like you'd ever think about it, like you'd could even if you wanted to.
“Satoru,” And he shakes.
“Satoru,” And he sobs.
“Satoru,” And he breaks, head falling back as if in prayer, a finger pushing his chin up, clashing against a higher power he didn't think possible.
“My one and only Satoru.” Soft and sweet and just for him and only him. And he’s gone.
Ropes of cum spurt out, rope after rope, covering your hand and the floor. Covering his thighs and his stomach in a mess.
Everything feels fuzzy and his cheeks are pink. A stupid grin crossing his face as he melts, boneless in your arms. "I love you." He mutters, distantly, foggily.
Perhaps somewhere beneath the haze he thinks that maybe you've said the same back. But he isn't quite sure anymore. He needs to be sure.
Slowly, he's lowered onto the floor into a sitting position. The tile is cold against his bare skin but it's okay because you're still caressing him, holding his face in your hand, thumb wiping at his tears.
"You love me right?"
You leave for moment and a whines at the loss of you pressed against him. Even if it's only for a few seconds he feels lonely and empty without your touch.
But then you're back and you're wiping him down with a wet towel, cleaning off his skin so gently, as if he's made of glass of porcelain, like he something to be cherished and taken care of.
"Hey pretty boy, you good?" He recognizes your voice even throughout the cloud in his mind. He nods and you smile and he's melting all over again.
"Do you love me?"
You roll your eyes and for an awful second he thinks that maybe you're going to say no. But then you're pushing the hair off his forehead and kissing him so fucking gently he thinks he'll cry.
"I do love you Satoru."
And his heart is bursting-he swears it is, it's beating so fast and so hard he's absolutely sure that you can hear it and that the quiet laughs escaping your pretty lips is because you can tell how dumbly in love with you he is.
But that doesn't matter.
Because right now he's normal person and you're a normal person and nothing else will matter but the fact that he's your's now.
"I love you too, y'know?" He mumbles.
You kiss him again, and again, and again. On his forehead and his temples, his cheeks and the tip of his nose and each of his eyelids. You kiss everywhere on his face until his lips are pouted out and he lets out a little whine of frustration.
And then you kiss his lips. Barely a peck, too fast and short for his taste but he doesn't have time to complain as you pull him off the floor.
“C’mon pretty boy, let me bring you home.”
“Mmm,” He doesn’t move, boneless against you. “Will you fuck me again?”
You laugh, soft. “Like I’d be able to resist you.”
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pikp0kcas3 · 2 months
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The Hazbin Hotel fandom’s issue with accepting aromanticism and asexuality
Now that it is officially Aromantic Spectrum Awareness Week, I want to talk about this!
I find that, as an aroace myself, I am constantly grasping at good representation and coming up empty— it usually ends up in one of two ways.
One: the character is portrayed as emotionless, cold, and robotic in nature. It’s the question aromantic and/or asexual people are often asked: “Are you heartless?” The answer is no, of course, but general media makes it out to be the opposite.
Or two: Their lack of attraction is seen as something to “fix” because they “haven’t found the right one yet”, and they end up with a partner as a “happy ending”.
It frustrates me greatly because of how little people actually see aromanticism or asexuality as a true part of the LGBTQIA+ community.
So when I watched Hazbin Hotel, and I found out about Alastor being aroace, I was over the moon. I was on cloud nine. I also saw how his voice actor has looked up the term as an attempt to learn about aroaces, which makes me OVERJOYED?? Amir is truly a blessing, and I love that he’s proud to embody a character that’s part of our community. It’s so beautiful to finally have a proper character, a fan favorite at that, who just so happens to be aroace— and that’s another thing I love about this.
It’s never explicitly stated in the show (though it is stated in interviews), but it’s rather clear when you’re watching, isn’t it? Alastor’s aversion to any sort of sexual advancement, coupled with Rosie’s blatant “I know you’re an ace in the hole” comment sort of spell out his asexuality pretty clearly, as well as what side of the spectrum he falls upon. In addition, his Valentine’s day card was strictly platonic, which caters to his aromantic side. It feels so validating to finally be represented, to finally have a character in media who shares the same lack of interest in romance and sex as I do.
When I entered the fandom to look for more content, I kind of expected to see the same respect for Alastor’s orientation there too. But that… wasn’t the case? I am fully aware that aromanticism and asexuality are both spectrums— of course, aromantic and/or asexual people can enter those kinds of relationships. I’m not denying that and they belong in the community as much as anyone else on the spectrum.
But, the more I see the same line again and again and again, the more it feels like an excuse to just ship what you want.
Usually I don’t mind shipping? I’m often a firm believer in people shipping what they like as long as it’s harmless and they don’t go crazy over it. I also know for a fact that Viv doesn’t have a problem with people shipping her characters. They are fictional, after all.
But in this case, people are ignoring the very thing that makes Alastor a part of the aroace community! People are ignoring his lack of romantic or sexual attraction!
Is this not the same as changing a gay character’s orientation to suit a straight ship? If not, how so? I’m told that we are a part of this community, so why aren’t we being treated like it? Why is it so hard to accept the people on the end of the spectrum who aren’t interested?
Something I’ve been noticing throughout my life is that society has not exactly progressed very much on the idea of accepting asexual or aromantic identities. Maybe we have, a little, since the old days— but hell, people in “the old days”, which in truth wasn’t very long ago, believed that asexuality was a medical condition to be “fixed” by taking the right medication or having sex. That’s a pretty low bar to clear. And on the romance side, you’re seen as a “late bloomer” or “boring” if you don’t express interest. These days, being friends with someone is treated like a gateway to them possibly becoming a lover. Not getting married, not going on dates, not wanting a partner— it’s all treated like a crime when it’s not.
Maybe I’m selfish, or sensitive, or I’m butthurt over nothing, or I’m making it all about me. Maybe I’m gatekeeping or whatever the term is. But please, please, please, I just want an aroace character like me who simply is not interested in sex or romance.
And I want fandom to respect that. I admire the creations that fans make— the art, the animatics, the writing and the character analysis. And I want people to keep creating because creation is indeed a beautiful thing.
But I really would like people to treat aroace identities like they’re important. Like it’s more than just a spectrum to get wiggle room to wrangle in another ship.
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milktei · 1 year
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Hold me Tight
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Kamisato Ayato x fem!wife!Reader
Genre: Arranged Marriage au, idk if it can be called a slow burn but that’s what I’m calling it, fluff, smidge of angst.
Warnings: unconventional relationship, Reader is described to have long hair that is brushed through. not edited
Requests: Open
a/n: another one out! :o Had to indulge myself a little bit before getting back to requests. arranged marriage au’s are my guilty pleasure and i just felt like writing for genshin again. Hair brushing and physical affection is also just such a big thing for me I had to write it. So if it isn’t obvious i wrote this mostly for selfish reasons and that is the reason why it may be sort of all over the place lol. I hope it’s enjoyable either way!
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A hug is all you longed for really. For someone to wrap warm arms around you and let you completely melt into them.
Being married it should be an easy ask
How unfortunate it is for you that your husband wants nothing to do with you.
Although the more you thought about it, perhaps that wasn’t entirely true. He did agree to the marriage hadn’t he?
He was the head of his clan, the Yashiro commissioner. Throughout the entirety of the process of arranging your marriage, Kamisato Ayato had every right, and more than enough chances to stop it from going through.
He had nothing to lose if he decided he wasn’t ready for marriage, which was an excuse many citizens of Inazuma had heard over the years.
He really had nothing to gain from it either.
It confused you from the day the elders of your clan elatedly told you that by some insane amount of luck, the Kamisato Ayato had accepted “your” marriage proposal that had been sent in as almost an obligation.
There was no harm in trying and you were now living proof of that.
Why you? out of all the suitors he definitely had, he had chosen you. While your clan was one of the head producers of tea leaves in the country, you still couldn’t wrap your mind around his acceptance, it was not like the Kamisato’s needed the tea, they could have afforded it anyways.
There was no political gain for him either as he was already a tri-commissioner, you weren’t even in line to become heir! Your uncle was the head of the clan and your cousins would follow in his footsteps.
The gossip about you flew all over inazuma like a storm cloud, and you heard it all, people weren’t always subtle in their curiosity or distaste in you after all.
Some of the talk was harsh and negative, and yet you couldn’t help but partially agree with what some people were saying about you.
You were a nobody as far as nobility went. The only reason you could think of as to why Ayato chose you, was likely to reduce the amount of mail that he got, as the marriage proposals had virtually stopped after your wedding. Aside from some particularly desperate people.
Perhaps you really were the best candidate for him. You weren’t a prominent figure in the public eye, you weren’t after the Kamisato’s fame and fortune, and you weren’t the type of person to fawn over your husband 24/7 and demand he shower you in riches and attention.
Although you almost wish that you were. Maybe then you wouldn’t be longing for a hug as badly as you currently were.
While it was true that being married to Ayato meant that you had nearly everything you could ask for at your fingertips, and that it was rare for you to be denied anything—not like you asked for much anyways—the one thing you could not ask for, was your husband’s affection. How ironic. the one person you spewed rehearsed vows to about being his rock and what not, was the one person you could not get an ounce of love or affection from.
Of course you had never really had the chance to try at this point, as despite being married for 6 months already, you can count the amount of times you had a full conversation with the man on one hand.
“I hope that you can find it in you to excuse my lord. He is a very busy man.” Thoma had told you the day you had moved in and your husband was no where to be seen. The look he gave you the mixture of empathy and a wince.
That was the day reality set in. He looked at you kindly on the day you got married. Soft smiles graced both of your features during the ceremony, and you two spoke amicably during the extravagant reception. But this was an arranged marriage, a contract more than a relationship, and you both had duties to fulfill.
A smile that had been drilled into you since your etiquette classes from your youth crossed your face “There’s no need to worry about me Thoma, I understand.”
So you had to learn to get used to being alone in an estate bustling with people. You opened your wedding gifts alone, sorted them accordingly and even sent out an astonishing amount of individual thank you cards to all the guests you had at your wedding.
You often ate alone, save for the times Ayaka and Thoma had time to accompany you. Aside from being reached out to for second opinions or approval you weren’t given a formal job on the estate. Instead you were given an allowance, and were free to spend your days doing whatever you wanted, so long as the Kamisato name was protected.
Yes that was another thing you had to get used to, “Kamisato y/n”, “My lady Kamisato.” Hearing the latter was especially hard, that title felt as if it was reserved only for your sister-in-law, she definitely represented it with more grace than you thought you were ever capable of.
The name and all the responsibilities it came with weighed down on your shoulders unlike anything you had every experienced prior, and here you pushed against it alone. Forced to go through the transition into married life without the other half of the partnership to support you.
That led you to your predicament now. You were coming to the realization that you were horribly touch starved.
It was even worse on cold windy days, or when it rained. All it did was remind you about how your late parents would use those days to curl up with you, a warm blanket, and a book to laze the day away and wish for nicer weather the next so that you could go out on a picnic.
you longed for those days of warmth and love again. Your family had been quite affectionate with one another. While Ayaka would come and spend time with you, treating you like an older sibling. Nothing could reach the craving deep within you.
You sighed to yourself as you walked through the streets of Inazuma, ignoring the whispers of people who passed and recognized who you were.
Or rather who you were married to.
“My lady Kamisato!” greeted the Yae publishing house worker. “You’ve come at a great time, the new volume of your favourite series has just released.”
The worker handed you the book in question and you couldn’t help the excitement that rose within you as you quickly flipped through “I was hoping that I’d be able to pick something up today. I’ve been needing more things to do when the weather doesn’t permit me to go outside. Any other recommendations?”
The worker smiled at you sweetly and handed you another book “Surely Lord Ayato, is able to keep you from getting too bored at the estate my lady?”
Your smile faltered ever so slightly, you couldn’t let it drop in front of the worker, the last thing you wanted was for anymore rumours to spread. You pretended to read the synopsis of the book that was handed to you. “Yes of course, but there are still times where he is not available. My husband is a very busy man.”
My husband, you didn’t think you would ever get used to referring to him as that. He felt like nothing more than a stranger who’s house you happened to live in, who you shared a family name with, who would grace you with a soft smile and a nod as you passed each other at the estate each making your ways to your separate rooms.
A gust of wind blew through the streets and both you and the worker shivered. You looked at the sky and frowned at the dark clouds rolling in, you flinched as a singular rain drop landed on your cheek.
The worker also looked up “it really is rainy season isn’t it?” they looked to you “I would recommend you head home soon my lady, looks like it’s gonna come down any minute now and you’ve got a long walk back to the Kamisato estate”
You sighed, “what a shame, I was hoping to run a couple more errands today.” you payed for both books and placed them into your bag with a smile “thank you for the advice I’ll head out now.”
You walked away from the shop in the direction of the estate, waving behind you as the worker told you to stay safe.
———
Perhaps you should have stayed in town.
You come to this realization as you’re halfway to the estate. Komore tea house would have been much nicer than the weather you were experiencing currently.
The singular raindrop you had felt earlier had slowly progressed into a little more than a drizzle and you groaned to yourself as your clothing grew heavier as it absorbed more and more water.
You should have grabbed your umbrella
It was practically pouring by the time you had gotten to the estate, the trees of Chinju forest providing surprisingly little shelter against the rain.
Quickly, you rushed under the cover of the roof of the estate and sighed in relief once you weren’t being pelted by water. You looked down at you clothes and cringed at the water dripping from the fabric and your hair onto the dark wood
Wringing out what you could beforehand, you opened the front doors of the estate as quietly as you could, albeit in vain as Thoma and your husband were having a discussion right at the entrance.
Both men turned to look at you as the door closed and you could only stare back awkwardly as the sound of water dripping from you clothes and hair, along with your shivering filled the room.
Thoma was the first to break the silence and began fussing over you not unlike a mother hen.
“My lady you’re soaking wet! You’re going to get sick! I’ll have the maids draw a bath for you. Please allow me to grab your belongings. I’ll have tea ready for you once you’re done.
Before you knew it, you were standing in your bathroom with a steaming tub waiting for you. Still bewildered at what had transpired moments before.
Still, Thoma and his efforts were never unwelcome as the bath was exactly what you needed.
You took your time in the bath, taking in the scent of the flowers and oils put in by the maids, appreciating how well the water warmed your once cold body.
Once finished, you were quick to dry off and get dressed, still towel drying your hair as you entered your room.
As promised, Thoma had left a tea set on the table in your room with a container holding tea leaves, knowing you liked to brew it yourself.
The only thing out of place was an extra tea cup.
As if on cue, the door to your room was gently slid open and your jaw nearly dropped at the sight of pale blue hair.
“My lord!” you greeted, the words leaving you mouth before you could even try to stop them.
Ayato paused as the two of you made eye contact, it was almost as if he was surprised himself that you were in your own room.
Ayato was the first to regain his composure after clearing his throat. “Majority of my plans for today have been cancelled due to the weather, I was hoping you could allow me to join you for a bit.”
Your head was spinning, not able to wrap itself around the fact that your husband was in your room and actively trying to spend time with you.
“Of course if that’s how you wish to spend your free time my lord.” you stammered, part of you still believing that this was some sort of dream.
A small shiver ran down your spine and you were reminded of the damp hair that ran down your back. You looked to the vanity in your room and then back at your husband.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I would like to fix my hair situation beforehand.”
“Of course y/n there’s no need to worry, it’s just me.”
That was precisely why you were panicking on the inside at that moment. It was only the man who was so busy, that his presence in the house on a daily basis resembled that of a gust of wind.
You sat down at you vanity and picked up one of your combs, beginning the task of untangling the mess you had created both in the rain and bath.
You nearly groaned out loud to yourself, you had kept your hair long to be able to use the multitude of flamboyant hair accessories you had acquired, but brushing it had always been your least favourite part of the entire process.
A awkward cough caused you to look at the man in your room.
“if you are comfortable with it…I could help you brush your hair.”
You stared in shock at the man in front of you. His face was genuine but you could tell by the reddening of his ears that he was flustered, the most you had ever seen from him.
The combination of being a witness to such a rare site and the fact that you were still in shock that he was there in the first place, had you speaking without much thought.
“That would be very helpful my lord, thank you.”
The surprise on his face was visible You could only hope that your whirlwind of emotions wasn’t as obvious.
Still, not one to go back on his word, Ayato gently took the comb from your outstretched hand and began to work. His powerful presence behind you almost causing you to curl in on yourself.
He was gentle, his hands warm as they followed your comb, a warm feeling spread throughout you chest as he so carefully detangled your hair, taking his time.
You hoped that he wouldn’t be able notice through your reflection just how flustered you were at this moment. Your face was hot, your breathing was slightly rapid and you couldn’t find it in yourself to look up at the mirror in fear that your eyes would connect.
Yet this moment felt so intimate, so tender and domestic. You could almost believe that you two were much closer than you really were.
A soft chuckle broke you from your thoughts.
“This brings me back.” Ayato sighed wistfully, “when we were younger, Ayaka would let me do this for her. Though she seemed less than impressed when I would try different styles on her. I wonder if she would trust me with her hair again after all this time.”
You smiled down at your fidgeting hands “I’m sure she would if you promised no more experiments my lord.”
Ayato hummed in contemplation “I suppose you may be right, but at the same time maybe I won’t need to ask her if I already have yours within reach.” He leaned closer to your ear, “After all, am I wrong to assume that you are enjoying this my dear wife?”
Your face felt like it was on fire, you had never heard him call you that to your face before. You could feel the smug smile that was currently gracing his features as he leaned back and continued his actions.
“Well?” He urged after a moment
“No you are not wrong to assume that my lord.” You managed to stammer out. Your hands clenched into fists in your lap as you forced yourself to say the truth, knowing well that he would be able to see through any lie.
He sighed. “Please y/n I think we’re at a point where we can drop the formalities.”
Your eyes widened at his words and you spoke the first thing that came to mind.
“Are we really?”
His hand that was holding the brush froze mid stroke, the room was suddenly filled with a chilled silence and you cringed at the amount of malice an anger that you managed to fit into one simple question.
This was no way to talk to the man you were married to.
“Forgive me my… Ayato. I did not mean to sound so harsh I just-“
“No no there’s no need to apologize.” ayato assured. He raked a hand through your hair and chuckled bitterly, “I supposed it is my fault that you feel this way about our…situation
You opened your mouth to protest but nothing came out. What he said wasn’t a lie to make you feel better for snapping at him. It was entirely the truth and you were grateful that he understood where you were coming from.
“Finished.” He stated softly before placing the comb back on your vanity. “I hope that I haven’t worn out my welcome.”
You paused for a moment, thinking about the situation you found yourself in, while wanting to get yourself out of the awkward moment, you knew that a chance to spend time with him again would be rare.
“You haven’t, don’t worry,” you stated as you slowly rose from your seat. Still refusing to look up at him you gestured to the low table where the tea set sat, “Please have a seat, I’ll brew the tea for us.”
It was quiet as you worked, the only sounds in the room being the clink of tea set, and the crinkle of tatami mats. You thanked Thoma in your mind when you saw that he had prepared leaves that were better steeped in lower temperatures, as the water had cooled down since he first boiled it.
“We’ll have to wait a couple minutes.” You said as you closed the lid of the teapot. Ayato nodded and an awkward silence filled the room.
“I don’t want to use me being busy as an excuse.” Ayato suddenly blurted out.
You finally look up at him in surprise “Pardon?”
Ayato cleared his throat “My apologies. It’s just that I know that everyone has been using me being busy to excuse me for being absent in this relationship. While I know that lin its simplest terms, what we have between us is a contract, part of me still hoped that I would be able to get to know you well and we could be much more than strangers. There are many times where I could have put my work aside and spent more time with you, but I for some reason I never found myself taking those opportunities.”
He looked almost guilty as he continued. “Now here I am, months later knowing next to nothing about you, and on top of that I expected you to be comfortable with speaking casually around me when we have barely even spoken before.
You pondered to yourself as you poured tea into his cup “Well if it makes you feel any better,” you poured more into your own “I also know next to nothing about you.”
“Unfortunately that only seems to add salt to the wounds my dear.” Ayato grumbled.
Your eyes widened at the pet name and you quickly lifted your teacup to your face to hide your embarrassment.
Ayato followed suit and hummed in satisfaction as he drank. “Well I do know one thing now. My wife is excellent at brewing tea. It must run in your family’s genes.”
You waved him off “it’s just something that comes with experience, my uncle is the true master.”
“I also now know that my wife finds it hard to accept compliments.”
“Hey!”
Ayato smiled at you teasingly as you glared at him, though there was no anger behind it.
“Well now that’s unfair,” you stated “I should get to learn something about you now.”
Your husband raised an eyebrow, “well what would you like to know?”
You faltered for a moment, not expecting him to relent so easily, “well…” you stuttered, “what type of tea would you consider your favourite?”
“Really digging deep are we y/n?”
“I couldn’t think of something straight away!”
Despite the teasing, the questions continued, it was as if you were on a first date.
Except you were already living together and married.
One question was asked after the other. Ranging from you asking him about the daily life of a tri-commissioner, to him asking about the books you had bought earlier in the day.
It was only after Thoma had brought dinner to your room, that you had finally asked.
“So why me?”
Ayato’s chopsticks paused mid air “Why what?”
You narrowed your eyes at him, he was playing dumb.
“Why did Inazuma’s most desired bachelor, Yashiro commissioner, leader of the famed Shuumatsuban, and the man who brought the Kamisato Clan back to its former glory, the Kamisato Ayato. Decide that a nobody from a tea producing clan was the one you would want to spend the rest of you life with.”
Ayato looked at you in exasperation “You aren’t a nobody y/n there’s so much more to you.”
“We don’t need to get down to the specifics, don’t avoid the question!” You exclaimed, ignoring the pleased smile on his face as he took in your flustered state.
Ayato put a hand to his chin and hummed as if contemplating something grand. He took a moment to respond. “Would you believe me if I said that I found you to be a very interesting person y/n?”
You stared at him blankly.
“Don’t lie to me we didn’t even meet until the wedding.”
The smile that he sent you sent a chill down your spine “Well I suppose that’s true in a sense, but we have been in each other’s presence on multiple occasions.”
You couldn’t mask the your surprise, “we have?”
Ayato looked at you incredulously. “Surely you know how often the Yashiro commission requests supplies from your clan for the multiple events we host.”
You fiddled with your teacup “Well sure but that doesn’t mean that it was a guarantee that we bump into each other. I’m sure I would have remembered being in the presence of you of all people.”
Ayato shrugged, “Being in the public eye is much more my sisters domain. I tend to stick to the shadows during bigger festivals that I’m interested in. During one of these times… you caught my eye.”
Your eyes widened “I did?”
He looked bashful as he continued his story, you were sure that you were the first person to ever see him in this state.
“I always knew of you, as I often meet with your uncle for business. I don’t know if you know this but he often worries about you and tends to talk about you during these meetings.” Ayato hummed in contemplation. “Perhaps it was a tactic to make me say yes to the upcoming proposal”
You groaned in horror at the realization that the two men had been talking about you “I apologize for my uncles actions.”
Ayato waved dismissively “Thats not the point. At a festival is where I first saw you and was able to put a name to a face. What I didn’t expect was the fact that everything about you had fascinated me. The way you danced and had that kind of sparkle in you eyes as you wandered around in wonder. The way you kindly greeted everyone you met. I found myself looking for you at following festivals to see if that was always how you looked…it was.”
“So it was only my looks” you teased
he sighed exasperated “Of course not”
You laughed “I’m kidding. Keep going.”
“Then at one point I was due for a meeting at your estate with your uncle and I might have listened in on a deal you were striking with a business man. The confidence in your voice was obvious and the way you negotiated with grace and kindness, yet still with firmness, had me intrigued within the first couple seconds of me hearing it. My interest only grew when your meeting had concluded and I saw you step out. with an accomplished smile on your face”
You gaped at him, you very rarely took part in your family’s business deals, only helping with what your cousins or uncle were too busy to handle. For him to be there at that time on that day was truly a great coincidence.
“You really piqued my interest that day. Although it was not my first choice in ways to get closer to you, when I saw the proposal sent by your clan, everything seemed to fall into place.” Ayato laughed but his tone soon turned solemn.
“Unfortunately not everything worked out for me, because look at how things are going. I left you to fend for yourself against the public, we rarely see each other, and this is the longest we have ever spoken despite being married for months. I think I was just afraid of crossing any boundaries, after all this marriage is arranged and I had no idea as to how you felt about me.”
Without thinking you reached over the table and grabbed one of his hands in both of yours, touched by how vulnerable he was being with you, “I wouldn’t have agreed to the marriage so easily if I thought ill of you in any way, while I may not have known you, you also piqued my interest. I won’t lie I was- still am extremely shocked, but I saw nothing bad coming out of this marriage really. It started off slow but we’re talking now, and well, don’t you think we’ve made some great progress?”
He smiled endearingly at you, “yes, I am grateful for this opportunity and hope that we can continue on this path.”
You laughed, “now you’re making it sound like a business deal.”
After that, you and Ayato finished your dinner making pleasant conversation. The sun had long gone down when he made the call for the both of you to retire for the night.
He once again stood in the doorway of your room, only this time you were standing right in front of him.
“I’ll have a heavier workload tomorrow but I think I’ll be able to join you for dinner again.”
You smiled up at him “I would like that, please let me know if there’s anything I can help you with, I’m part of this clan too you know.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you y/n.”
There was a pause and Ayato reluctantly continued. “Well I should take my leave for the night.”
As he turned, something seemed to overcome you, and you grabbed at his wrist,
“Ayato.”
He froze and turned to look at you curiously. you shyly looked away, “before you go. May I have a hug?”
He gave you a teasing smile, “this is all happening so fast, what will everyone think?”
“Oh please we’re already married.”
He laughed and his smile softened.
Without anymore words, Ayato opened his arms.
You couldn’t hold back the giddy smile that crossed your face and without hesitation you allowed yourself to melt into his embrace for the first time in what would become many.
A scent that was uniquely his filled your nose, and as you pressed against his chest you could feel and hear his heart pounding just as hard as yours. You nearly sighed in satisfaction as you wrapped your arms around his waist. A need you had been suppressing for months had finally been fulfilled. His hold was strong and comforting, his hold making you feel like you again.
Ayato chuckled to himself as his grip tightened, “well now I’ve found myself in a predicament.”
Still holding onto him, you turned your head to look up at him. “What is it?”
“I don’t want to let go.”
2K notes · View notes
holllandtrash · 10 months
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6t1 girlie going to celebrate that p2 real nice I reckon
silverstone celebrations | lando norris
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continuation of the 6 to 1 series (read part 1 here)
lando gets a podium, his first one at his home race and surely that calls for a celebration. it's unfortunate, however, that the hotel walls aren't soundproof.
word count: 3.5k tags/warning: slight smut, fingering, female receiving, lando's a little shit but hey it's his podium, poorly translated french im so sorry, also not rly edited that well
Lando squeezed you so tight over the barriers, lifting your feet off the ground despite there being a clear fence to separate the drivers from their teams. There was no doubt in your mind that he would pull you over if he wouldn’t get in trouble from the stewards. 
The neon hat fell from your head as he kissed you, not like you cared, you hated it anyway. ‘You look like a highlighter’ Charles had said when you showed up in the paddock on Friday sporting the new Grandstand merch line Lando came out with specifically for this race. It was true, though. You looked like a highlighter all weekend, but you knew Lando loved seeing you in his merch and god were you easy to spot when he got out of the car in parc ferme. 
In the sea of orange and black McLaren crew members, there you were. Tears streamed down your face as you waited to congratulate Lando for his P2 finish. You were selfish about it too. You didn’t care that there were other people around you waiting to congratulate him, Zak Brown included, his family included, you wanted to kiss him and you wanted the world to see how proud you were that Lando had claimed a podium for the first time at his home race.
You pulled back, hands cupping his face. You couldn’t tell if your palms were sweaty or if Lando’s face was damp with sweat, it didn’t matter honestly, you just needed to look at him. You needed to see the excitement on his face, you wanted to take this moment in.
His hand covered yours as his eyes were squinting from how large his smile was. “We did it. We did it! P2, we-”
“No, you did it,” your voice came out broken, your happy sob choked you up and Lando nodded. He did it. You laughed, because how could you not. This was the happiest you had felt in a long time. “You did it, Lando. And I’m so, so proud of you. I love you. You did it.”
He gave your hand a squeeze before he was pulled away by someone else. A driver, a crew member, you weren’t sure. The rest of that celebration turned into a blur and it wasn’t until you felt champagne being sprayed on you as Lando stood atop the podium did it sink in that he accomplished something truly incredible at his home race. At McLaren’s home race. This would be a moment he would remember for the rest of his life and with every bone in your body, with every fibre of your being, you were proud of him. 
Witnessing Charles’ accomplishments through the years had always brought you a sense of joy but this was something else. As Lando pointed at you from where he stood, a few metres above everyone else, you couldn’t explain the feeling in your chest. There were no words to explain how you felt, you just wanted to embrace this victory and be there for Lando. 
Maybe it was because Lando said ‘we’. We did it, he told you. Staring directly into your glossy eyes because to him, the two of you were a team as much as him and McLaren were. His victory, his second place finish and you were very much a part of it. You were his biggest supporter, his loudest cheerleader, his motivation. He wanted to do well for McLaren of course, always, but god there was no better feeling in the world than having a good practice time or a decent quali session and seeing the look on your face. You were proud to call him yours and Lando desperately wanted to make a habit out of seeing your wide smile and teary eyes. 
Honestly, he couldn’t believe it when you showed up on Friday wearing the neon Grandstand jumper. Lime green? Highlighter yellow? It was bright and hideous, is what it was, but Lando loved it and then he loved it even more seeing you in it. He didn’t know you had planned on wearing it, having shown up to the track later than him but it was a wonderful surprise. 
And then Saturday, you showed up in the t-shirt and the baseball hat, the same blinding colour and he loved you even more for it. 
Sunday, he was certain you’d wear something else. The paddock was also a fashion show for some people and he knew you liked to dress up.
But no, there you were again. Baseball hat, bright green jumper, you even managed to find a pair of cotton shorts in a similar colour and you could be seen a mile away. You hated it, but you loved Lando, so you could sacrifice your dignity for his home race.
Of course, you changed as soon as you could. Deciding on an orange cropped cami and white trousers, colours that highlighted your summer glow and showed just enough skin that it had Lando rubbing his hand over his face as he muttered something under his breath about how beautiful you were. You had just strapped on the second heel and straightened up when Lando came up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist.
Your head rolled back onto his shoulder when his lips found your neck. His soft and slow kisses on your already hot skin had your breath hitching in your throat. You leaned into his chest, pressing your back as close as you could to him. Every inch of you that touched Lando lit a fire within your core.
“We could skip dinner,” Lando’s voice was low, barely above a whisper as the idea flowed from his mind into your ear, something he wanted to suggest earlier. A lot earlier.
He wanted to drag you into his driver's room and watch you drop to your knees in front of him. He wanted to leave marks on your skin in the backseat of the car with the partition rolled up. He wanted to pin you up against the wall as soon as you stepped foot into the hotel room, holding your hands above your head until you were begging to touch him.
But god forbid he had post race duties that kept any of that from happening.
The debrief. The fan stage with that disgusting shoey, but he had to keep his promise to Daniel about keeping the tradition alive. The individual thank you’s and handshakes to everyone he passed in the garage and paddock. And now the dinner with friends and family that was technically his idea but would it be so bad if he cancelled? 
Or at least, showed up late?
“We have a reservation-”
“Doesn’t mean we need to be the first ones there,” Lando pointed out, a deep chuckle emitting from his throat. One of his hands trailed downwards, playing with the button on the front of your pants before popping it open. His pinky traced over the thin material of your panties and there wasn’t a single word of discouragement that passed your lips when he pulled the zipper down, just a quiet whimper and Lando could have sworn he heard you say please.
You rolled your hips against him, feeling the tightening in his own pants as he spread his palm across your abdomen, fingers gripping your skin. 
He dipped past the hem of your underwear, the tip of his finger just barely teasing your clit. You swallowed, lifting your hand up to drag your nails through the hair on the back of your neck, pulling his lips to your neck once more because if you were going to feel Lando you wanted to feel him everywhere. 
His hand slipped further down, using his middle finger to swipe through your folds, already feeling how wet you were for him. What he didn’t know was there had been a pool forming since you first thought about celebrating his podium finish. You were as desperate for him as he was for you.
“Lando,” you whispered. His name was your plea, asking him to do something aside from his painfully slow motions. He took your earlobe between his teeth and you tightened your grip on his hair in response, your body reacting to him and his touch the way it always did. 
“Don’t rush me,” a breath of a laugh fell from his lips as he pressed another kiss to the spot below your ear. The slightest bit of pressure was applied to your centre as his thumb brushed over your clit. “Only fair I get to celebrate the way I want, don’t you think?”
“Let me treat you, then,” you tried to suggest, more than happy to switch positions and bring him to the edge before dinner. But you shouldn’t have been surprised when Lando’s response was to tighten his hold on you, his clothed erection pressing into your backside. 
“Maybe later,” he pushed the idea aside, wanting nothing more than to see your knees go weak and hear you call out his name because God only knew it was a better experience than any podium ceremony could ever give him. The crowd cheering for him was one thing. But you begging for him? Otherworldly. 
You opened your mouth again to argue with him, but your words escaped you when Lando pushed two fingers past your tight folds, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit. He took his time until eventually he was knuckles deep inside of you and all you could do was cling onto him for dear life, a quiet chorus of please and faster encouraged him to find a steady pace. 
Lando’s breath on your neck and his fingers sliding in and out of you had your legs giving out. If it wasn't for him physically holding up you’d be a goner. One particularly hard thrust upwards from him and the most beautiful moan echoed off the walls. He scissored his fingers against your walls, fighting back a groan himself when you clenched around him.
You were lost in your own little world that you didn’t even notice Lando trail his free hand up until it came to a stop where your jaw met your throat. His grip tightened, thumb finding your chin to tilt your face towards him as you rested on his shoulder. 
“So pretty,” he praised, dragging your lower lip down ever so slightly. You stared up at him, wide eyes, fluttered lashes, stammered breaths…a sight he wanted permanently seared into his mind. 
It wasn’t right. You should have been on your knees for him. It was his day, you wanted to show him just how proud you were, you wanted to congratulate him with his cock hitting the back of your throat until tears streamed down your cheeks.
But Lando loved this. You could celebrate your way later. Right now, he couldn’t ask for anything more.
He picked up the pace of his fingers, determined to bring you to the edge before you had to go to this fucking dinner. As far as Lando was concerned, he’d be happy enough with you as a meal. The mental image of you spread out on the bed as he dipped his head between your thighs was almost enough to convince him to call off the celebration tonight. 
Almost. 
Because the idea of being able to tease you throughout the rest of the evening was too good to pass up as well. 
You swallowed heavily, feeling the familiar build up in your core, that burning sensation spread through your veins. An awaiting euphoria that only Lando could deliver to you. 
His eyes darkened, recognizing the way your walls clenched around him in anticipation. His assault on your pussy quickened, the thrust of his fingers, his thumb over your clit, all of it was bringing you to the edge. 
So one could imagine, this was the worst time for there to be a knock on your hotel room door only a few feet away from you. 
Lando’s hand covered your mouth, knowing you were one who struggled to be quiet. Your eyes widened, your heart rate picking up and Lando only made the situation worse by not stopping. You could have sworn he sped up even.
He cleared his throat and called out to whoever was on the other side, waiting in the hall, “Yeah?”
“Just checking to see if you guys had left yet,” Charles' muffled voice came through the door. “Want to share a car?”
Lando, with a devious smirk on his face as his motions became stronger, rougher, happily answered knowing how much you were hating this. “We’d love to! We’ll be out in a moment, hang tight, mate.”
Charles said something else, something you didn’t catch as you were too focused on controlling your breaths behind Lando’s palm and praying that these walls were sound proof enough. 
This was horrid. Knowing your brother was right outside the door as Lando worked desperately to push you over the edge.
He trailed his lips to your ear, “I hope you're close, love. Would hate to keep him waiting.”
You nodded, your whole body quivering. You were so close. 
Lando slowly dropped his hand from your mouth, finding the look of sheer panic on your face to be amusing. 
“You can be quiet, can’t you?” He taunted, knowing damn well you couldn’t. 
“Lando-” it was hard to even get his name out, closing your jaw immediately when a moan threatened to escape next. 
Another harsh thrust of his fingers had your hips bucking against him. It was a stark contrast from the way his thumb softly grazed over your cheek, his eyes encouraging you to give in, let go. Lando certainly didn’t give a single shit if your brother heard. 
And you tried to be quiet, really. You bit the inside of your cheek as your orgasm hit you hard. Lando kept you steady and upright against his body, slowly working you through it. You fought with yourself to keep from shouting his name but there was nothing you could do about the angelic moan passing through your lips. Lando buried his face into the crook of your neck, a low rumble emitting from the back of his throat. 
When you stopped pulsating around his fingers, Lando slid them out of you. He kissed your neck and then your cheek and then tilted your face to kiss your lips, gently, lovingly, softly. It almost made you forget your brother was quite literally waiting for both of you.
“I hate you,” you whispered.
Lando rolled his eyes, “You can’t hate me today, I got a podium.”
“Then I hate you tomorrow.”
Lando nodded, “That’s fine.” He kissed your cheek again as you lifted yourself off of his shoulder. He patted your butt as you turned around, “Go change, I’ll stall.”
Usually he would opt to lick your juices clean off his fingers, but he decided washing his hands would probably be the best decision. He adjusted himself as much as best as he could before looking down the hallway, not letting himself get distracted as you slipped a skirt on.
Lando opened the door to the hotel and nodded at Charles who was leaning against the wall across the way, head down as he scrolled through his phone. Charles barely acknowledged him, avoiding his eyes as he muttered something about how the car was waiting outside.
You joined them in the hall a few minutes later. Lando looked you over once and then twice, eyes narrowing at your hair but not making a comment about how you probably could have brushed it again. He just played with it as you walked next to him, both of you hoping he could smooth it out enough before you reached the restaurant. 
Charles climbed into the front seat of the awaiting car while you and Lando climbed in the back. You attempted to make conversation with your brother, asking him about the debrief, but he wasn’t giving you anything in return. One word answers at most.
You pulled out your phone and texted Lando. He heard.
Lando snickered when he read your text, coming to that assumption as well with the way Charles avoided making eye contact. Instead of answering you, Lando slid his phone into his pocket and decided that the best thing to do would not be to let the situation simmer, but to bring the pot to a boil.
“Charles,” Lando cleared his throat, his hand dropping to your thigh. “It’s nice of you to join us tonight, really.”
Charles nodded, “Yeah, anytime.”
“Well I’m not you, you know? My podiums are quite far and few between so I like to celebrate when I can.” 
Charles nodded again as you shot Lando a warning look. He ignored it, of course, because at the end of the day you fell for someone who was more immature than they ever cared to admit.
“It’s nice that Y/N’s here too, to celebrate with her,” Lando added. You squeezed his hand harsher than needed and he winced in slight pain, but didn’t let up, even when Charles chose not to respond. “Yeah she’s a great motivator-”
“Please stop talking,” Charles finally said, pleaded, actually. You could see him raise his hands to his face, breathing deeply into it. His voice was muffled as he spoke, but the pain in his voice was clear as dear. “For the love of god, Lando. Stop talking.”
Lando burst out laughing as your cheeks turned a bright shade of red. 
“Charles-” you started.
“Nope,” he cut you off, staring directly ahead at the road in front of him. You could only imagine what the driver was thinking about this interaction. Charles refused to turn over his shoulder to look at either of you. 
“We didn’t-”
“Arrêtez de parler,” Charles repeated, asking you now to stop talking. “Dites à Lando que si j'entends encore cela, je mettrai le feu à sa voiture.” Tell Lando, if I ever hear that again I will set his car on fire.
“Quelle voiture?” Which car? Not that it really mattered, but you would have preferred if Charles didn’t commit a felony during a race weekend.
“The McLaren,” Charles answered, in English, to let Lando know he was talking about him and his car despite him not being aware of the threat that just came out of his mouth. 
Lando leaned in towards you, “What did he say?”
You shook your head, not wanting to dive into it right now and thanking your lucky stars when you pulled up outside the restaurant. Charles practically sprinted inside, bypassing Daniel and Carlos who tried to say hi to him. 
When the two of you stepped out, Daniel approached you with some concern, nodding his head towards the doors, “What’s up with Leclerc?”
“He heard us,” Lando answered point-blankly. He and Daniel were still incredibly close, you shouldn’t have been surprised at how honet Lando was.
“He heard you?” Daniel repeated. “What does that mean?”
“He heard us,” you said, more emphasis on the word of the hour without getting into too much detail. It took a second, but Daniel’s face was priceless as he dipped his head back and laughed. He had to cover his mouth with his hands to keep from making too loud of a scene. 
Lando slid his hand around your waist, pulling you into his side as Daniel’s laughing fit continued. You wanted to hide your face. Actually, no, you just wanted to hide. You didn’t want to make eye contact with your brother, ever again. 
“Poor kid,” Daniel managed to get out, still chuckling. “But hey, congrats I guess-”
You reached forward, hitting Daniel’s chest and he stepped back, hands up in defence.
“For the podium,” he clarified, still grinning from ear to ear. He adjusted the hem of his collar, sending a wink towards the British driver before turning and walking inside. You and Lando waited a second, watching as Carlos clearly asked Daniel what that was about but Daniel brushed it off, telling him to ask Charles.
You stepped forward, but Lando’s hand on your waist moved to your wrist as he pulled you back. His eyes scanned over your face, seeing your red cheeks, feeling the heat radiating from your skin, losing you to the anxious way your eyes darted everywhere.
“Hey,” he whispered, hands trailing up your arms. “I love you.”
You laughed, because how could you not? Only Lando would feel the need to assure you he loved you after practically being caught by your brother, which was, technically, Lando’s fault.
“I love you,” you repeated back. “But for both of our sakes, I hope you never get a podium ever again.”
“Ah,” Lando grinned, sarcasm already heavy on his tone. “My biggest motivator, such kind words.”
“I mean it.”
You didn’t, obviously. You wanted nothing more than to see Lando’s trophy shelf filled to the brim. You wanted to see him standing on top of the podium week after week. You wanted to get used to seeing him spray the champagne over the other drivers and the crowd.
But if this was going to become a regular thing, you were certainly going to need to change the way you celebrated. Or at least, you'd be sure to confirm that the walls were soundproof.
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saerins · 1 year
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─── 𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋
+ jing yuan x f!reader | wc 1.9k | content: fluff, established relationship, slightly suggestive
notes: this is it babes , i’m hopelessly down bad for this man and it’s been what … a week ? help !! but also , first shot at him so i hope this isn’t too ooc or anything >_< rbs appreciated muwah !!
summary: where you come to realise that jing yuan can be just like you, in all the good ways.
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jing yuan is a busy, busy man.
but surely it isn’t that selfish for you to wish that all mornings are like this? this; with your boyfriend by your side past ten in the morning, half-naked under your covers and sound asleep. luckily, he doesn’t have any urgent matters to look into today and fu xuan has told you to make sure he gets enough rest today before the pace picks up again.
apparently, he’d worked himself ragged the past week and earns even the worry of the master diviner herself.
when he’s not general, when the armor comes off and the vulnerability switches on—jing yuan’s your boyfriend, and a very doting one, at that. the kind who spoils you endlessly with what he can, the one who’s quick to notice your every behaviour and tendencies, no matter how big or small.
the sunlight slips past the curtains, a sliver falling perfectly onto his face and down his arms. jing yuan is facing you, eyes closed, hair down and looking every bit the perfect specimen of a man.
that’s why you can’t help yourself, can’t help running your index finger down the line of his triceps, down to his forearms, appreciating the way the goosebumps sear delicately across his skin. you can faintly see the scar across his chest—an outcome of his earlier days ravaging battlefields, before he became general.
you still remember the small conversation the two of you had when you first saw it, when he first visited your humble house, when he first saw all of you and you, all of him.
“you don’t think it’s unsightly?” he asked.
it was funny, you thought, how jing yuan cared so much about what an ordinary girl like you thought of him.
you shook your head, accepting the kiss he leaned in to give. “not at all, general. nothing is as long as it’s on you.”
the fingers that trailed down his arms have made their way onto his hair, twirling it around the finger before it falls peacefully back onto his shoulders. his gray locks are smoother and prettier than your own hair—you find yourself envious.
how is jing yuan so pretty simply like this?
fingertips graze gently over his cheeks, thumb caressing the mole below his left eye. you smile idly to yourself, stupidly dreaming about what it would be like to spend the rest of your life next to jing yuan, much like the lovestruck idiot you are.
you think maybe jing yuan wouldn’t even think that far. he has far too many important matters to think about, matters that concern the safety and longevity of the xianzhou luofu.
besides, the two of you have only been together for two years. you’ve known friends who only got engaged five years into their relationship. aren’t yours just like an infant compared to that?
“do you do this every morning or am i just lucky to catch when it happens today?”
his voice snaps you out of your delusions, your hand instinctively jumping back towards yourself. jing yuan laughs at your sudden movement, and you curse yourself for only being able to think about how good he looks when he’s happy like that, when his eyes turn into little crescents and the way his mouth curves much like a child would.
“sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you,” jing yuan says, letting you meet his golden eyes, imitating your earlier position by caressing the side of your cheek, smiling softly at you. “good morning.”
grateful that he doesn’t harp on it, you smile right back, leaning into his palm. “good morning,” you greet, happily accepting his invitation into his arms, leaning your head into the crook of his neck. “do not ever mention that again,” you make sure to tell him, still slightly embarrassed with yourself. “and that was a one time thing.”
jing yuan catches how humiliated you are, with the way you’re pouting and speaking in hushed tones. he chuckles, taking your hand and kissing the back of your palm. “whatever you say, princess.”
it still makes your heart skip a beat—his pet names. it’s either princess, or angel, sometimes love. you love all of them. anything, as long as it’s from him.
“i am curious though,” he says, kissing the top of your head, lingering there momentarily to catch the whiff of your shampoo from the night before. “what were you thinking about? you seem happy.”
you’re not sure whether he means to tease you, because you’re at least sure he knows the rough ballpark. what else could you have been thinking about besides him? still, you entertain him anyway.
“you.”
you feel him stiffen a little before relaxing.
“yeah? what about me?”
you can just feel him smiling to himself, half happy and half teasing you, but mostly the latter. and maybe you’re just overwhelmed with bliss today that you don’t mind sharing, though it takes you a while to compose your erratically beating heart before you can say it out.
“i was just thinking… what it would be like,” you pause, hoping he won’t think you’re getting ahead of yourself, “to be with you forever.”
jing yuan’s fingers don’t stop playing with yours, and he doesn’t stop rubbing your sides with his other hand. it’s his way of assuring you that you’re not stepping over any boundaries, that he doesn’t think you’re too much. it’s his silent way of telling you don’t worry, he loves you.
“that’s what you think about when you watch me sleep, huh?” he chuckles and you know he’s teasing this time.
“jing yuan,” you call his name, strict, tilting up to lock gazes with him, “i swear if you—”
but he takes your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, leaning you up to kiss him, and he makes sure it’s a long, deep one—makes sure you know how he feels. despite how it looks, he’s gentle. the pads of his fingers don’t hurt your cheeks and the way he kisses you is soft and slow, because he wouldn’t dream of hurting you. ever.
when he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your kiss-swollen lips, he smiles again, with so much adoration you feel like you can melt away, like he’s your sun and you hopelessly orbit around him, like he’s your entire world.
“saying such sweet things when i’m already hopelessly in love with you,” he pauses, a low chuckle exhaled, “how cruel.”
you bite your lower lip, suppressing a grin. “i only do that as revenge,” you say, playing along.
“oh, do you now?”
“mhm, it’s your fault, really, general, for making me fall so deep so quick,” you confess, feeling your heart soar as he presses your foreheads together. “so i thought you should get a taste of your own medicine.”
jing yuan’s lashes flutter against yours as you both stare into each other’s eyes, completely enraptured. “don’t worry, you already have.”
sometimes, you’re afraid that his feelings for you have gone stale. that perhaps, with all this time apart, maybe he realises that he doesn’t need you, doesn’t want you, would do better without you.
but times like these—times where he anchors you down, lets you remember that he’s human, just like you—you know that it’s not the case. because just like you, he can be so hopelessly in love too. he can dream of you, and think of you endlessly throughout the day. even when he barely has time to correspond with you, even when he’s thinking of ways to prolong peace in your world.
jing yuan will always love you.
he clears his throat when he pulls away, looking sheepishly to the side. “you know, i was afraid of something when i caught you smiling.”
you raise a brow, tilting your head to the side, utterly confused. what would someone like him have to be afraid of?
as though he senses your question, he sits up and rifles through his side of the drawer, and you follow suit, draping your blanket over your own half-naked body. you see him taking something into his palms, hiding it before unfurling his fingers delicately in front of you.
it makes you gasp, makes you feel like maybe your heart has stopped beating for a second.
“jing yuan, what is this?”
the solitaire diamond ring glows radiantly in the palm of his hands, the scalloped band studded with natural white diamonds.
for the first time since you’ve met him, you see him being embarrassed. “exactly what you think it is,” he recovers, taking your left hand in his. “i’ve kept this for a while now, wondering when would be considered the right time.”
it’s hard for you to believe. jing yuan is a highly sought-after man. he has everything anyone would want in a husband—yet here he is, declaring his lifelong love to you. you can’t imagine that the same general who leads the luofu, the same soldier who’s protected everyone and made this peaceful life a possibility, is the same person who says he wants you.
“y/n, i knew i wanted to be with you for our entire lives from that first night we had dinner together,” jing yuan confesses, smiling just thinking about how you’d told him about your family, and about how passionate you seemed about taking care of the orphaned kids around your area. “i’m sorry we don’t spend much time together, but i’m working on that.”
he doesn’t have to apologise—you know it comes with the job. you want to tell him that, but you’re still a little stunned about all of this that you can’t get a single word out.
jing yuan’s golden eyes stare straight at you, the desire and love so apparent it overwhelms you, in a good way. “yesterday, fu xuan asked me something—what would you regret the most if the world ended tomorrow?”
fu xuan? is she in on this?
“and the answer came faster than i thought it would.” he brings the diamond ring up in between your faces, grinning from ear to ear, childlike. “it’s that i didn’t get to spend enough time with you, that i didn’t get to marry you.”
is he really about to do this?
“i don’t want to rush you into—”
“yes.”
it came rolling off your tongue before you can stop yourself, and jing yuan blinks at you, completely speechless, before he breaks out into a wide smile, hand on the back of your neck and pulling you towards him, planting a big kiss on your lips.
(jing yuan finds it amusing how honest you are; it’s one of the qualities he finds most attractive in you. every single day he finds out more and more things about you that makes him fall even more in love. you’re his every weakness and yet his every strength—you’re dangerous, the good kind.)
before he puts the ring on your finger, he pauses and clears his throat. “y/n, be my wife?”
(he figures he should ask properly, even though he already knows your answer. the grin you give him is enough to send him into overdrive, enough happiness to last him the rest of his and your long lifespan.)
“make me your wife, general.”
(and when he puts the ring on your finger, he knows. he knows that you’re it and he’s going to protect you his whole goddamn life. that he’s going to love you like he can love no other.)
“looks like you’re mine forever now, y/n.”
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Abs Sans Brain
Top Gun: Maverick - Jake “Hangman” Seresin x f!pilotreader [no use of y/n]
2.6k || Your date with Jake at the Hard Deck is crashed by the rest of the squad.
==== Genre: Fluffy, flirty, and funky
CW: Swearing, drinking
Author’s Note: I’m writing this before I start writing the fic itself. I’m shooting for 600 - 800 words. Please laugh at me when we see how wrong I end up being. Oh, and the reader is best friends with Bob because I said so. || cross-posted on ao3
===
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There were very few things you had asked for in life. Good health, good people, and the entire sky at your disposal. A small list, if a bit demanding. One thing you hadn’t been expecting when you’d asked for the Heavens was all those who came with it. In particular, Jake Seresin, who slid into the booth across from you. Beers in hand, grin in place.
“Come here often, doll?”
You roll your eyes at him. A movement that does little to hide the smile blooming across your lips. “I can’t believe I ever let that line work on me.”
“In your defense,” he said, taking a long swig of his beer. “The first time I used that line, we were thousands of feet in the sky. It’s where I’m at my most irresistible.”
“Ah, yes. That must have been it. Everywhere else you’re just insufferable.” You laughed and took a significantly smaller sip of your beer. It’s your second one in ten minutes. “If I didn’t know you any better, Seresin, I’d say you’re trying to get me drunk here.”
“Tryin’?” he scoffed, “and you say you know me.”
The unfortunate thing about this whole situation was that you did know Jake. You knew him well, better than Coyote. You knew his favorite color was yellow. That’s why it had been put in his helmet. (He’d also left off the ‘a’ in his helmet because the idea of filling it in to say ‘Hungman’ fit his sixth grade sense of humor). You knew he over-exaggerated his southern drawl whenever you walked into a room because you’d once drunkenly admitted to him that hearing him talk flooded your mind with dirty thoughts. You knew Jake’s mind was fifty percent dirty thoughts, twenty-five percent sky, twenty percent you, five percent ways to school you at cards and five percent cheeky comebacks he was sitting on to annoy the rest of the squad with. And, most disheartening of all, you knew Jake was not a romantic.
It didn’t bother him that date night was a few beers, fried food, and a game of pool. It didn’t bother you either. Not entirely, but you were hoping for one night where you could dress up nice and go out somewhere fancy. Somewhere along the lines of joining the military and ending up at TOPGUN the line of being feminine had been blurred. Commanders couldn’t understand why you’d want to put on a bit of mascara to fly a plane. In the same stretch of imagination, Hangman seemingly couldn’t put it together that you’d like a bit of romance in your life beyond the cheesy pickup lines and pet names.
If you could add anything to your list of ‘good health, good people, and the entire sky’ it would be a few nice dates. You’d say nothing fancy, but you wouldn’t mean it. You wanted fancy. Even if it was just to realize that fancy is actually not what you wanted at all. Something to change up the pace of playing pool with Jake and being hit on by him like you were his latest conquest and not his girlfriend of six months.
Part of you felt like you were being slightly unfair.
“Your turn, doll,” Jake said, but when you went to pass in front of him he grabbed you by your belt loop. He pulled you back towards him, matching your laugh, and captured your lips with his.
Moments like these almost had you convinced that maybe you could push those selfish date ideas off to the side. Jake liked showing off. He liked being able to flirt with you in a place where you could laugh loudly and no one would look at you weird. He liked being able to slip out the back door to walk down the beach with you under the stars.
“If it’s my turn,” you said between kisses, “then let me shoot the ball.”
Reluctantly, he let go of your waist and you positioned yourself to sink yet another ball into the pocket. You planned to kick his ass in an embarrassingly short amount of time to get the pettiness out of your system, then enjoy your night together.
Except for the fact that the front bell chimed, and familiar shouts filled the bar. Familiar because you’d heard them less than an hour ago. You considered altering your list once more. ‘Good people who knew when not to come get a drink.’
“Hangman!” Payback shouted across the bar. “Rack ‘em up. Rooster was just telling me how the two of you ended in a tie game last week.”
Jake’s laughter filled your ears. He still had a hand on the small of your back, but his attention was entirely on your group of friends trailing through the door. “Chicken doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about. I smoked his ass.”
“I’d like to see you put your money where your mouth is, Seresin. Unless you’re still broke from the last time I kicked your ass.”
Rooster headed over to the pool table followed closely by Fanboy and Coyote. Payback, scribbling in a notebook, hung back for a moment. Then opened his mouth to edge the tension on a bit more. You knew your date night had been pushed aside, so you took it upon yourself to step off to the side yourself.
Phoenix smiled at you, waving, and tilted her head. “I thought you guys were on a date?” She asked. You shot her a look that said ‘We’ll talk later.’ Natasha let out a laugh. “Sorry. Look, I’ll get you something strong to drink.”
“Make it a double!” You called out after her as she made her way over to the bar where she’d be trapped by millions of questions from Penny. The sound of your name, your government name, being called by a certain southern drawl caught your attention. “Yes, love?” You asked, hoping that your boyfriend was about to make an unexpected promise that the two of you could leave after one game.
“What’s the matter, darlin’?” Jake nudged you softly with his shoulder then threw his head over in Bradley’s direction. “We can always just ask the peanut squad to leave. The small man will only get so much smaller when I whoop his ass for the hundredth time”
Rooster stiffens, almost to attention. He holds the pool cue next to him. Straight and tall. “I’m taller than you are, Bagman.”
It had become a trend of sorts to refer to Jake with various insults that fell so effortlessly from Bob’s mouth. You had tried your hardest to resist, out of solidarity for your boyfriend, some of the nicknames were too creative to avoid… and it gave you an excuse to make Jake try and draw his true name from your lips.
“I wasn’t referring to that kind of height, Chick.”
“C’mon, Jake,” you whine, “can you please just be the polite Jake I know you to be?”
“Oxymoron!” Rooster calls from across the pool table to which Jake whirls around and says, “What the fuck did you just call me?”
You shoot a glare in Bradley’s direction. “Seriously?” Out of the corner of your eye you see Payback pulling that same little notebook out of his pocket to make a mark. You turn on him. “And what the hell are you doing?”
He turns the page towards you. On it in crude, unintelligible handwriting is what you can only assume to be two columns labeled “Hangman” and “Rooster” with a series of ticks beneath them. Jake in the lead by a long shot. “I like to keep track.”
In the corner, you noticed when you squinted to read the handwriting, was a third little box. Completely full of ticks. “Who is that?”
“Bob,” Payback said at the same time Bob said, “Mine.”
You rolled your eyes and turned your attention back to Jake. “Can I talk to you?”
Your tone is enough to etch worry on his face. He set his pool cue against the table, grabbed you by the waist, and pulled you off to the side. “What’s wrong, doll?”
“This isn’t a date.” The whiny lit to your voice didn’t make you feel the most sexy, but you’d tried seducing Jake to go to a movie so the two of you could make out in the dark instead and that hadn’t worked. Pouting was your last resort. “Every time we go on a date, they show up. They’re like fleas!”
“At least fleas can do tricks.” Jake turned to look over his shoulder. “Rooster can’t even hit a ball straight.”
“Jake, I’m being serious. Why won’t you just take me on a date? A real one.”
“Look, pretty girl, I’ll make a deal with you.”
You side-eyed him, unconvinced, and sighed. “Lucky me.”
“Play me in darts. I win, we stay and hang out with everyone. Lord knows Rooster and Phoenix need to be humbled in pool. Plus, you’re the only one here who can get Bob to do enough shots to start doing karaoke.” He rests his forehead against yours. “I know how much you love his drunk renditions of ‘Sweet Caroline.’”
Jake had a point. There had been one night - shockingly, another date night at the Hard Deck turned into a group activity - where you went to sulk in a booth while your schmooze of a boyfriend fueled his bromance with Coyote, Rooster, and Payback. Bob, still not the biggest partier, had grown tired of the swapping insults over darts and was worn out from dodging Phoenix and Fanboy’s attempts to get him to dance with them. So he’d ended up in the booth across from you.
You’d been pounding back shots of tequila like they were water. “He’s stupid,” you had slurred to Bob, “but you’re not stupid. You’re fun. Here, do a shot with me. Let’s be fun.”
He would tell you the next day that he had only intended to do one shot but one turned into two which turned into four which turned into Bob unplugging the jukebox to sing a melody of songs from your Grandma’s playlist with impressive range. After each one he would make sure to point you out of the gathering crowd of dazzled patrons. “This one’s for her!” He’d shout in dedication and start up singing again.
It hadn’t been a bad night then, and, even though you’d never admit it to Jake, you had a lot of fun. Tonight would be the same if you could let yourself stop moping long enough to enjoy it. But there was still the matter of:
“What if I win?” You ask. Competition was the reason you were here on the West Coast to begin with. You were the best of the best because you refused to let anyone else get the upper hand on you. “What do I get then, Seresin?”
“If you win,” Jake said, slowly kneading your hips with his hands. “I will take you out on another date - a fancy one. With roses and the opening of doors and the biggest bottle of wine this nice restaurant downtown has to offer. I’ll dress up and give you the most romantic night of your life. But tonight we’ll stay here and do everything we’d do anyway if I had win.”
“If I win.”
“If you win… but you won’t.”
He didn’t have to say it for you to know it was true. He threw darts the same way he flew planes: with deadly precision. There was a reason Hangman was the only one out of everyone in their generation with two confirmed kills. He could land a shot with his eyes closed. In the air and with two feet planted firmly on the hardwood floors of the Hard Deck.
“That’s not fair at all.”
“I don’t make the rules, sweet thing.” That stupid smirk was back on his face. The two of you hadn’t made it back to your booth yet for appetizers, otherwise there’d surely be a toothpick rolling between those lips of his too.  “C’mon, we’ll make it easy. Three darts each. Most points win.”
“That’s not how you play darts, Jake. Even I know that.”
“Bagman,” Payback called out, “what are you doing, the balls are racked?”
You went to grab the darts from the board as Jake said, “Kicking my girl’s ass in darts as a warm up for kicking your sorry asses in every game after.”
“Ladies first,” you gestured, mimicking his smug smirk. He glared playfully at you but stepped up to throw the first dart in a movement almost too quick for you to see. A perfect bullseye. “Show off.”
“Got to put some skin in the game.” Jake moved you in front of him. His hands gripping your waist to hold you in place as he pressed kisses to your neck. “I like your skin better, darlin’.”
You shooed him away. The dart felt heavy in your hand. Screwing this up would essentially be throwing away your only sure shot at the date of your dreams. You lifted your arm and threw the dart. It flew, fitting itself snugly into the single bull.
Jake’s turn. He moved just as quickly as the first time, but the angle he shot at landed the dart in a single scoring 18. Winning was still well within your grasp. A decent date was inching closer and closer.
Your turn. A deep steady breath. This dart felt weightless. An extension of yourself. You throw the dart in a less fluid motion than Jake, but manage to stick it in the bullseye right next to his.
“Look at that!” You shouted, pointing and jumping. Joy overwhelmed you not just because you were currently winning, but because this had been the first bullseye you’d made without Jake helping you in the slightest. He’d likely still claim this victory as his. It was his silly deal that made you so determined in the first place.
Jake’s final turn. He still had the chance to put you in the dust. Your eyes were glued to the board, but the dart never came. When you turned to look at him, Jake threw the dart at the ground. “You win,” he said, but you shook your head. Eyes back to the board. You won even without throwing this last dart.
You snapped your head in his direction, ready to call him out for cheating, but you were cut off by Jake’s lips crashing onto yours. He pulled away quickly, muttered a small, “You really think I’d deny you anything, doll?” then rushed off to join the restless group at the pool table. Leaving you to glance from the stray dart stuck in the floor and the man you were beginning to fall for at the pool table.
Phoenix saddled up next to you, drink in hand, and passed one over to you. “What did he promise you if you won?”
“A real date.”
“The fancy one with all that inspiration you’ve been sending me on Pintrest.”
“That’s the one.”
She let out a low whistle. “Wow, and I thought he loved you just by the way he looked at you, but this is something else. He’s smitten.”
“I guess I have that effect on some people,” you said and hid your giddy grin with a sip of your drink. “Did you ask Penny to get the tequila shots ready?”
“The real question is if we’re ready to hear Bob signing.”
This might just be one of your favorite dates yet.
===
oneshot taglist: 
@rosiahills22 @pono-pura-vida @gizmodear​
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murdrdocs · 6 months
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No but imagine being at like an event or dinner with your boyfriend and you've got history with Rafe the whole night you guys are just giving each other bedroom eyes and when yiu guys taje a seat at the dinner table he finger fs yiu under the table
your boyfriend sits across from you. he’s supposed to be your focus for the night, already sitting directly in your line of sight.
and you have been focusing on him. mostly.
there was only so much you could do when jokes dried up just as drinks did and your seat partner, also your ex situationship, started to become more entertaining then anyone else at the table had.
dessert was backed up in the kitchen, leaving you to swirl the steadily melting ice cubes in your drink as you waited for cake for the birthday boy and an assortment of sugary sweets for the rest of the table.
“don’t tell me i’m boring you.” rafe’s voice startled you, the deep timbre of it plus the proximity making you jump in your seat.
if your boyfriend noticed, he didn’t comment on it, instead engrossed in conversation with his childhood best friend who had driven up to the island for the weekend.
you shrugged, turning your head just a little to speak to rafe. when your nose almost bumped into his, you turned back to your drink instead.
“not you. just this entire thing.” your pointer finger circled in the air as you spoke.
you felt selfish, your words a whisper in an attempt at privacy. but you could yell and the rest of the table would still not be guaranteed to hear, the sheer volume of the rest of the bustling restaurant loud enough to drown out anything below a shout.
which is why you’re not that worried about the gasp you let out when you feel rafe’s hand slide along your inner thigh. his trail is slow, perhaps teasing or maybe just to give you an out if wanted.
you want the opposite, your legs spreading instead of closing to welcome rafe’s touch. you’d worn a small skirt tonight, intended to rile up your boyfriend into excitedly lifting it up at the end of the night for another birthday gift.
but your skirt ends up lifted earlier than you’d expected, rafe’s fingers pushing your thin panties aside just after he slides the digits along the wet patch you’ve created.
“who’s this for, sweetheart? huh?” two fingertips play in the arousal situated between your lips, his voice low as he questions you.
you look at him this time, distantly astonished at the way he’s able to keep his eyes platonic and rid of any hints that could alert anyone of your under table endeavors.
you grit your teeth, tilting your head. “it’s for him,” your head jerks towards your boyfriend.
rafe’s eyebrows lift in a teasing jerk. “really?” you nod. “none of it for me?” another nod.
rafe shrugs and his fingers disappear from your entrance where they’d been probing. “then i guess you should let him fuck you instead then.”
you let the front you’ve been putting up drop completely, eyes widening as you trap rafe’s wrist in your hand. “wait.” it’s said a little more pathetic than you intended, your pitch a little too high to play off.
rafe grins, aware that he’s gotten you where he wants you. he nods, lips turning down in an upside down smile just before he pushes two fingers into you, giving you no time to adjust before he’s fucking you.
just then, the waiters come out with a cake lit with a ring of candles, all of your friends starting to sing happy birthday to the boy across from you who grins and stares lovingly at you. even when cheerful faces and phones are pointed towards him. even when you're being finger fucked by his friend under the white clothed table.
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crystaljellie · 1 month
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I honestly think that there are so many interesting songs that fit the life series characters so well, so I’m going to talk about them here and explain why I associate them with these songs!
Bdubs - Never love an anchor by the crane wives
"With this heart of mine that's guilty, not remorseful" | It's guilty because Bdubs feels bad, he feels bad he couldn't achieve what he should. He feels bad that he killed Impulse in third life, betrayed him, and even then it got him nothing. He's guilty because he knows the harm he's caused
"There is love that doesn't have a place to rest, but it would burry you if it had settled on your shoulders" | I notice that Bdubs has a lot of trust and faith in his companies, something about this brings back the 'He loves me' scene from last life back. Bdubs loves a lot more than people seem to think he does, so he must hold it back in case of that love being used against him
"I am selfish, I am broken, I am cruel" | Maybe things that Bdubs wants to be, for the sake of letting go and letting himself detach from these people so losing them doesn't hurt as much. Letting other people label him as such
BigB - Know How by the Crane wives
"I am not brave; I keep my focus on what is safe," | I think this is fitting to BigB even if it's not necessarily true; I think from his perspective how he feels, ignoring how he is actually very brave. But at the same time he does keep his focus on what is safe, there's a reason why he always makes it to the final or session before the final.
"Just because I know what I'm supposed to do now, doesn't mean I know how" (Edited line to be shorter) | I'm not sure how to explain this but I do think it really fits him, he knows all the things he's meant to do, to survive, for example killing with the boogeymancurse, but he dragged it out till the very very end before he killed Cleo in last life, because he didn't know how he was supposed to do it.
Etho - I don’t know anyone I am by Salvia Palth
"I don't know anyone, I am in relation to anyone I guess" | Etho has always been seen as a loner throughout all seasons, he doesn't very much get the time to make meaningful bonds or understand his teammates. It makes sense he would struggle to see himself as more than just a survivor as well, he hasn't given himself the time to focus on anything else.
Scar - Icicles by The Scary Jokes
"Their shallow observations will only stall the transformation" | This is very secret life scar to me, maybe something something the watchers talking to him, everyone forcing the title of villain onto him, yet the watchers see him as a gift to them, as a victor and they're trying to make sure Scar keeps doing what he has been and not back out because they're calling him 'villain'
"But I admit it would be easier, To be relieved of all this shame and not have to wear it on my sleeve." | This fits Scar's feelings on the matter, not wanting to go forward, not wanting to be shamed and outcast by the rest of the lifers.
"I can only be forgiven if I'm giving myself up to you" | Secret life in general but also back in 3rd life, Scar believing he can only make up for killing Grian at the end by having Grian kill him, something something 'slay me and take the enchanter'
"My world has turned so cold, but I won't cry, 'cause icicles don't soften when they die so why should I" | Despite Scar being constantly alone, he stayed strong he never 'softened' or cried he also became cold which is why he won.
Grian - Bird Song by Florence + The Machine
"And he sang about what I'd become" | How Grian had slowly lost his mind in third life as well as all the other games, how Grian had became someone obsessed with getting kills, going out of his way to trick and trap people and find loopholes to kill
"I picked up the bird and above the den I said 'That's the last song you'll ever sing" | Grian doesn't want to think that he might be a bad person, or he might be going crazy, so he has to silence anyone saying otherwise, anyone that might prove a danger to him. Maybe because he can't let the watchers get word that he's exactly who they say he his. Maybe even so this is relating to the theory that he might have been the one to curse Jimmy.
Impulse - A Mask of My Own Face by Nature Tapes
Okay now hear me out on this one, Impulse is constantly in and out of alliances especially in third life, lying to everyone to gain vantage.
"And none of them would know that I am secretly myself" | Because they trust that Impulse is putting on a facade all the time, but maybe what they are missing is that the facade is what he considers to be him. Or at the very least keeps him safer
"I'd blame it on the person that nobody knows I am" | Something about him always being like 'Oh I did this so they'd trust me more I'm still on your side I promise' Or 'I did this for the task!' When he could have absolutely targeted anyone else.
Martyn - Metaphors by The Crane wives
"I've gotten good at living on someone elses page" | It's the way Martyn is always deceiving and always planning to betray, living on someone else's page, being content and loyal until he has the chance not to be.
"You can't trust a single thing I say" | Idk something about him talking about how he was planning to betray Ren in third life.
"Don't look too hard cause you won't like the scars he left in me" | THIS BEING SO TREEBARK LISTEN TO ME. HE GAVE UP SO MUCH TO REN THERE ARE SO MANY SCARS CAUSED BY FOLLOWING THE ORDERS TO KILL SOMEONE YOU LOVE
Lizzie - The Crooked the Cradle by The crane wives
"There's blood in the water" | Thinking about Lizzie showing up in limited life to play Pearl and the first thing she was tasked with is killing. Like she showed up and instantly was given the title of boogeyman, a gimmick that was only there in the one other season she was in, a sense of familiarity and a sense of dread.
"The quiet are restless the silent are still" | When there is peace on the server and it is quiet there are people waiting to kill. When it is silent it is because all is dead. And Lizzie knows that well being quick to die each time, she is the silent, especially when she fell into the void, she died alone and in scilence.
"If Mercy's abound I'll be safe I'll be sound, and the devil won't know of the love I just couldn't let go" | Something about Joel being the cause of her death In Secret life... loved him so much she went down for him, she couldn't let it go and it got her killed.
"Can anyone hear me?" | Her in the void not being able to be heard....
Mumbo - Saint Bernard by Lincoln
"To remind me that I am a fool" | I am very strongly of the headcanon that Mumbo is also a watcher, something something he needs to remind himself that he is fooling himself into thinking he could fit in with the world of the watchers or the world of the players
"When I am dead I won't join their ranks because they are both holy and free" | And Mumbo's not, Mumbo doesn't get to go where they go, he still has more to do, more to make up for. Still instructions left to follow
"There's really just one thing that we have in common, neither of us will be missed" This is so Mumbo talking to Grian coded for me
Pearl - Here I am by the Crane wives
"How long have I been here all alone" Double life Pearl in her tower....
"Settled in, had a plan but I never factored in, Everyone else saying goodbye" | Basically also double life Pearl she had a plan with Martyn go to the nether get stuff come back find her soulbound, and then they all left her.
"This ghost town is making a ghost of me" | Everyone dying around her, and being alone like this without chance of redemption slowly killing her.
"I promised myself I'd learn to be the one who leaves" | Throughout the next games, like secret life, she'd be the one who leaves instead of gets left behind, but she didn't seeing how she was always last one alive out of her teammates
Skizz - Wrecking ball by mother mother
"I made a fist and not a plan" | Skizz is usually quite reckless and goes action first plan second.
"You gotta see the artistry In tearing the place apart with me, baby" | This but more in the ironic sense, because Skizz while he wants to reign chaos he is also fiercely loyal and kind to his allies, so tearing the place apart with me, is important. He doesn't just want to cause chaos he wants connections
Scott - Icarus
"Climb ye higher and higher and higher 'Til you're far away and breathing cleaner air" | Scott winning last life, climbing higher and higher through the ranks until he breaks through the clouds into what he had hoped was cleaner air spoiler alert it’s not.
"Who have you become in the wake of all that's happened here?" | What’s happened to you, what happened in last life that changed you, what made you so cold and bitter and so quick to assume the worst when double life came
"Spreading out the ashes of a love That only gave and gave" | Either this as flower husbands, being the ashes of a love that only gave to others, or specifically Scott’s love, that only gave and gave to the one whom he loved
"There's no room for all the hearts who will not stay" | For the people who will not stay with him, the watchers pressuring him to do better and leave the, behind. He won’t though.
Joel - The Wolf by the crane wives
"I will join the wolf at my door Breathing out storms when she comes around" | Well yes we know Joel is a dog boy clearly, but also how he is oh so aggressive to everyone he meets, ferocious and knocking things down.
"I am always burning, burning, burning" | Burning with rage? Burning things down? So many emotions they're lighting up his world so much that it blinds him from seeing anything else
Jimmy - Hollow Moon By the crane wives
"In the darkness, Slowly crawling over my skin, Whispers at the door, "let us in, let us in" | Whispers of the watchers, or maybe his curse, something knocking to let death in.
"I won't be sleeping, There's too many monsters in the backyard" | Okay yes funny because of Minecraft mechanics. But also, idk something about Jimmy not being able to see the watchers but still feeling their presence.
(I'm giving Jimmy an extra song because he's special)
Strawberry blond by Mitski
"I love everybody because I love you When you stood up, walked away barefoot And the grass where you lay left a bed in your shape I looked over it and I ached" | YES I AM BACK ON MY FLOWER HUSBANDS BULLSHIT! Trust me so much they're so insanely in love, they love the world because they love each other, their relationship is so sweet and soft.
"All I need, darlin', is a life in your shape I picture it, soft, and I ache" | because all they ever needed was each other, not the death not the violence, just to be in love
Tango - Monster by Dodie
"I'm guessing that I've grown horns I guess I'm human no more I can tell I've rotted in your brain" | Tango's anger and wondering if those reactions made others see less in him. Make him a monster
"You think I'm a crazy bitch I craft my words to fit your head 'Cause no one listens to the dead" | Idk... something about this and Tango, he always dies relatively early too, maybe it's only death that'll comfort him
Cleo - The Garden by The Crane Wives
"My stone, My shield, my steady hand, Hold your light To the darkness in my head" | Something about this being about how Scott has been her friend and ally throughout all seasons
"Give me something pretty to wear beneath my blood-stained clothes" | I CAN'T EXPLAIN IT BUT THIS IS LIMITED LIFE CLETHO, DOES ANYONE HEAR ME PLEASE TRUST
"My darling, the devil knows my name" | Cleo makes a name known for herself by fighting, making a point with their sword
"Get on your knees and, Dig up the garden, Won't you throw down that spade and, Dig up the garden, darling?" | Something something a wife talking to her husband
Ren - Arms Tonite by Mother Mother
"I died in your arms tonight" | Martyn killing Ren in 3rd life....
"I lost sight in your arms tonight, it was nice" | Lost sight of the goal so obsessed with his kingdom and the Red army
"I cry hard because I have died, and you're alive" | Martyn out living him (Not by very long) In third life
Gem - The Well by the Crane Wives
"All the words I couldn't say to you Fill up the spaces in my chest" | This being Shiny Duo and Gem and pearl being on different sides unsure of how to stay together
"Send me anywhere, take me out I'm the well they're gonna drag you down" | Gem knowing she's only going to be used as a catalyst to hurt others despite her wants
"That old house, those rotting memories Burned easier than I'd have thought" | Those short memories of limited life being replaced by the nicer memories of at least the first half of secret life
And I am done yapping, mayhaps I will do more someday
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the-hopeless-haze · 1 year
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Worried About You
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Chapter 4 of If You Want It, You Can Bleed On Me (House x reader)
“I need Vicodin,” Greg says to you, walking into your office. Well. Your office when you were here. You scowl slightly at the day-old coffee in your line of vision and think about how you’ll be scolded by the other people you share the office with the rest of the week when you inevitably forget that it’s there.
“Funny. I’m not your dealer,” you say.
You and Greg had hit it off, so to speak. Much to everyone’s chagrin and surprise, you continued seeing each other inside and outside the hospital. It wasn’t something either of you spoke about. Psychiatrists (or psychiatric doctors of nursing) are the worst patients and the best repressors. You did what you had to to be able to function like a member of society, but you were as fucked up as the rest of them. And you see Greg is similar. USA-renowned, if not world-renowned, diagnostician—but that was all he had besides a bum leg and a healthy dose of chronic depression and reliance on opiates to function.
When you finally had sex -heterosexual sex, dick in pussy sex - it was a frenzy fueled by alcohol and weeks long of teasing, and you saw glimpses of his leg in the midst of it and he saw the scars scattering your arms, but beyond the “oh, so you tried to kill yourself” he said to you when he edged you on the brink of orgasm the umpteenth time (and oh, boy, was that a mood killer) there were no comments about either.
But he kept you around and you weren’t entirely certain of why. It’s only been a month or so, and he’s not calling you his girlfriend or telling you he loves you, but he’ll still wine and dine you before railing you. And you don’t know if it’s out of obligation, if he feels like even though you’re not a hooker he has to pay you for sex, or if he genuinely enjoys your company. You think about how dissimilar you are to Wilson and how that’s the only person he keeps close. You wonder if maybe you remind him of his live-in ex that you’re almost certain he never got over. It’s a good time though, regardless. You make each other laugh. You both love The Rolling Stones. You begrudgingly agreed to be dragged to a monster truck show one night (“Wilson won’t come with me” he whined) and in return you made him go with you to see a local band perform that he wasn’t the slightest bit interested in.
It was that sacrificing that made you pretty close to a real couple. Wilson pointed it out to you and he no doubt pointed it out to Greg. You made a snarky comment about his marriage and you wonder if you should compare notes with Greg to make sure you’re both not using the same lines.
You don’t know why you keep him around either, so it’s fair. It’s nice to have a fuck buddy, you suppose, and it’s also nice to almost like them as a human being rather than a sex toy. It’s certainly not because you think you can cure him, because you know you can’t. You wanted sex and you didn’t want a rehash. All things considered, he was a thorough lover and cared about getting you off as much as himself, which somewhat surprised you given how selfish he can be in other settings.
It’s not a bad arrangement. At least not right now.
But you’re fucked and you know it. It’s why you were drawn to work with kids in the first place. At least you’d always have a leg up on them. Someone out there thought you were sane enough to be rent an apartment and be a licensed prescriber.
Oh. Speaking of.
“Come on. You have a license to prescribe. Just once,” he begs.
“Yeah. No. I think you’ve got me confused with Wilson.”
“You’re much hotter,” he offers.
“Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“It got you in my bed.”
You smirk, shaking your head. “Yeah. Fair. But that’s as far as it’ll get you. You can be lackadaisical with your license, but I’d like to keep mine until I want to retire.”
“How’d I get with such a goody-two-shoes? Even Wilson will play.”
“He’s not now, apparently. What gives?”
“I bet Cuddy clinic hours that I wouldn’t take Vicodin for a week. They’re all convinced I’m an addict.”
You snort. “Okay. I hate to point it out so bluntly, but this is prime behavior for addiction. Searching all channels to get a fix because you can’t go a week without it?”
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Okay. I’m going to do the week. But I need someone on standby. I’m only doing the week, and I don’t know that I’ll be able to get it prescribed afterward.”
“Chronic pain is outside my scope of practice. Best I could do is a suboxone MAT and say I’m detoxing you off Vicodin and keeping your substance use in check, but even that’s pushing it. There’s a conflict of interest.”
“You can’t keep the clinical and the personal separate?”
“Nope. Could you? If I was your patient this week, would you be able to? Bringing your ex-girlfriend into this is what got you into this mess. Don’t bring me in to try to fix it.”
“I’m not asking you to fix it. And you have a medical background. I’m asking you to write the order I’m asking for. I know how to manage my pain.”
“Why don’t you get through this week first? Then maybe you’ll take me up on the suboxone,” you say, crossing your arms.
“You think I’m addicted?”
“Jesus Christ, Greg, you’re smarter than this. You know what happens if you consistently take opiates. I know you need them for pain. I’m not denying that. But to think you’re immune to the side effects? It’s habit-forming. You know this. You’ve been taking it for years. You’re going to have withdrawal symptoms. You should be doing this in a detox facility if anything.”
“I work in a hospital. Opiate withdrawal never killed anyone, anyway,” he says, seeing no point in bluffing to you any longer.
“Maybe not. But you’ll suffer. I’ll meet you halfway, hm?” You say, looking up at him. “I’ll prescribe you comfort meds for the week. Ease you through it. Mirapex, vistaril, zofran, clonidine, bentyl…”
“Most of those aren’t exactly in your scope. If you want to be technical.”
“If I lose my license for any of those the board has far too much time on their hands. But you’re right. I’ll get Chase to sign them off.”
“Chase?”
“He’s the most desperate to get laid out of the three. I bat my eyelashes enough he won’t even question who the scripts are for.”
“Chase? Look at him. If he’s not getting laid none of us should be.”
You scoff. “I guess pretty boys do it for you, but not for me. But no…I can tell. He reeks of desperation.”
“It’s desperation to be liked by authority. Not desperation for pussy. He’s swimming in it.”
“Okay. We’ll see if he folds,” you say, winking.
Greg sighs. “Is this some kind of game?”
“What isn’t, with you? It’s all games, it’s all puzzles.”
“Why Chase?”
“I told you. I know you’d rather me go to Cameron, but unfortunately, I don’t think flirting would get very far with her. Foreman will never fold.”
“You don’t have other doctors you work with you could ask?”
“Greg, it’s just fucking comfort medications that you probably will have too much pride to even touch. Again. Not risking my career for you and letting people that actually respect me think I’m a nutcase because I slept with you.”
“So… you want to fuck Chase. Right?”
“Where in that insecure little man brain did you think of that? It’s your other head, right? I must want the sexy Australian because all the other girls are doing him? Because I want to ask him to prescribe meds? For you?”
He shrugs. “Matter of time. ‘Oh, I had to blow him, that’s the only way I could get him to do this’ or ‘oh, honey, good news, he said if I sleep with him three times a week he’ll prescribe your Vicodin’.”
“Stop with the immature bullshit. If I wanted to fuck him, I’d just leave you, not worry about the meds, and do it. Grow up, Greg,” you mutter, walking away.
“Then why don’t you?” he challenges, hating himself as the words leave his mouth, hating how unattractively juvenile he was coming across. But there were reasons, the need to push you away to see if he would get pulled back, the need to be contrary, the need to know. Know what, exactly, he’s not sure.
He already knows he’s in for one of the worst weeks of his life. Even if the withdrawal symptoms are mild, he’s going to be in terrible, unmanageable pain, and all the Tylenol and Motrin in the world aren’t going to even come close to touching it. And he’s going to be more miserable than usual. No pain relief. No euphoria from the high when he takes just one… or two… or three extra than he needs. He knows he’s addicted. He tries to roll it off his back, saying it doesn’t matter, it shouldn’t change perceptions of him, it’s something he needs for pain, and it doesn’t affect his ability to practice medicine.
But sometimes he’s afraid. When James looks at him in concern but doesn’t offer any solutions because there aren’t any real ones, are there? He needs opiates for pain. Nothing else will work. Whether it’s pure heroin or your gold-standard synthetic hippy bullshit medication-assisted treatment… it’s still an opiate. Naloxone embedded in the pill or not. Having to go to a clinic to get dosed and having to have checks and balances on his use or not. It’s still an opiate. There’s still a stigma. It still pinpoints his pupils, lowers his respiratory rate, and hopefully, hopefully, takes the edge off so he can function but he knows. Addiction isn’t his specialty, he never wanted it to be, but he knows. One day it’ll be his last Vicodin, or the Vicodin won’t work anymore, and hey, you know what’s instantaneous? Spinal morphine. Can only use that card once or twice, have to tell Wilson he’s in excruciating pain and guilt him into enabling. He’ll only go so far. And then…well, then it’s IV heroin or fentanyl, whichever is easier to get, whichever is cheaper.
Greg knows that addiction treatment centers are revolving doors. He knows that you saw the same people back and forth and back and forth sign in and sign out, sign in and sign out. Change their medication plans a million times. And some of them still died anyway.
He’s afraid. He’s afraid of dying by his own hand by accident, alone and blue, nodding off forever. Sometimes he wishes for it, an end to the pain, but he also doesn’t want people to find him like that. A predictable end to a predictable story. World-renowned diagnostician died the same way a poor broke junkie did on the streets. Hooked on drugs, overshot it.
And it’s not that he thinks he’s better than those people. He knows he is those people. Even prior to his disability he dabbled in drugs, never enough to create a habit but enough to definitely indicate the potential of a problem. He’d tried almost every illicit substance “just to see how it felt” by your age. It feels good. Drugs feel good. It’s how they work. And your brain wants to feel good. It’s how they keep working and you keep using.
He knows. He’s in a vicious cycle he’ll never claw his way out of.
And you know it, too.
And yet you’re wasting your time fighting with him instead of walking away.
Why?
He doesn’t know that.
“Yeah. Why don’t I fuck him?” you snark back, turning on your heel and walking back toward him, drawing him out of his pity party and back into the misery he created for no reason other than to drag you down with him, make you choke on it with him. “I don’t want to. That’s why. I want to fuck you, although believe me, that thought is getting less and less appealing every time you open that fucking mouth and speak.”
“It does have better uses,” he quips, shrugging, almost visibly relaxing at hearing he was chosen, that he hadn’t scared you off yet.
You roll your eyes. “When does the detox start?”
“Now. It’s been a couple of hours.”
“So you wanted to kick it off and try to put both of us in a shitty mood to start with? Not your brightest idea, huh?” you ask.
He doesn’t say anything and you nod, feeling slightly more in control now that you rendered him silent without any arguments. “Go home. You can’t think clearly if you’re going to be actively detoxing.”
“I still have to make them think I can function without it,” he says after pausing. He would’ve lied to you too, put up a façade with you too, but that’s the thing about addiction. It’s easy to hide dependence to people who don’t know what to look for, but you do. And you would smell it on him.
“I thought you didn’t care what people think?”
“I don’t.”
“Then why take the bet at all?”
“I’ll get out of clinic hours.”
“Right. You would never do something like this to prove a point,” you say sarcastically, leading him out of the office. —————- “Why are you with him?” Chase asks. “And you care enough about him to ask me to use my medical license for a script.”
“You’ll see I don’t care enough about him to risk using mine,” you counter. “It’s comfort meds. Just write the scripts and I’ll leave you alone and we can go back to never talking, which is honestly how I prefer it.”
“I’ve done nothing to you.”
“Right,” you mutter. “I’ve heard enough, though.”
“Does he… what does he say about me?” he asks, a look between bewildered and terrified crossing his face.
You laugh, shaking your head. “Forget I said anything. You’re fine, I’m sure, I just don’t want to be entangled in the team. I already work with Wilson. One facet of House’s life needs to be separate from me.”
“Right. So you’re asking me to prescribe him medications.”
“As a doctor. Which is your job,” you point out. You sigh, looking at the pretty blond man sitting in front of you. Maybe Greg was right to be afraid. Most women your age would be begging to spread their legs at the thought of carrying this man's children. He's more stable, at least comes off that way, and he doesn't have an addiction and a crippled leg.
“Why stay with him if you know he’s an addict?”
Why are you staying?
You look at him for a second, reading his face. “You hate people that struggle with addiction, don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t say I hate them. I just think they don’t realize the pain they cause and it’s unfair to the sober people in their life.”
“Everyone is someone’s burden,” you say.
But why did you take him on?
“So you think he’s going to detox.”
“I know he’s going to detox. Which is why. Once again. I’m asking you to prescribe him comfort medication for the aforementioned detox.”
“You guys really like each other, huh?”
Why did he take you on?
“No. I want my week to not be miserable. This might lessen it a little bit.”
“Oh, and you’re deflecting just like he would.”
“Just prescribe me the damn meds, Chase.”
“You’re going to be miserable anyway,” he says, shrugging as he takes out his script pad. “You owe me one.”
You know he's not wrong.
“Yeah. You’ll get a psych consult on the house,” you agree.
“Why’d you ask me?”
You sigh. “Can’t ask Wilson. Too close. So it had to be one of you three. Foreman just wouldn’t. Cameron would ask me too many questions and she’d tell everybody.”
“And me?”
“Process of elimination, really. Thank you, you know," you say, deciding to leave out the part where he gets off on sucking metaphorical dick for the chance at appealing to authority. Sometimes you wish you were as crass as House. You come up with some good ones if you could only find the guts to just say them.
“He’s not going to take them.”
“Probably not. But I’m doing my part.”
“As what? His girlfriend?”
“His… friend,” you clarify, and you walk out of the office with the scripts in tow to fill at the pharmacy. Later you hand them to him and he takes them without a word. He opens all the bottles, takes one of each pill in his hand and he pops them dry. Terrible for his esophagus, you tell him, and he mutters something about how he’s wrecked his liver and everything else has to catch up. He opens a bottle of wine and you lean against his chest, barely processing the cheap soap opera flashing in front of you on the TV. He's already sweating, you can feel his shirt damp against your cheek. You don’t know why you’re here. You don’t know why he made a show of taking all those pills in front of you. Maybe to show your efforts were appreciated without having to say the words, even if he thought it was stupid. Maybe it was a desperate attempt to make this all suck less. Maybe it was because this was bending the rules a little, a detox with help, however minor, and he always wanted to see how far he could push before the consequences could roll in. Let’s cheat a little. Instead of a slice of pizza on a diet let’s have a hydroxyzine in a cold turkey detox.
He asked you to come over tonight but he hasn’t said much of anything or initiated much either. Why does he want you here? To know he’s not alone this time, that you’re willing to face the brunt of this pain with him when it returns, like Stacy was unwilling to?
You don’t know.
You don’t want to know. It’s best he keeps that information in his own head where it belongs. You don’t want to get too attached, too close, too entangled. This is fine how it is.
But you still wake up drenched in sweat that isn’t yours.
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shadowlali · 6 months
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mayor que usted - ch. 1
COD AU - Coronel Alejandro Vargas x fem!reader
[18+] wc: ~3.3k series masterlist
series summary: You live a carefree and happy life in Las Almas now that El Sin Nombre is gone. Unbeknownst to the people, a new narco moves in with his eyes on you and nothing to lose. Alejandro steps up as your pretend boyfriend while Los Vaqueros stage a plan to take down this new threat. It's fake dating until it's not. You and Alejandro slip into the roles too well and lines begin to blur. Will Alejandro be able to let go of his own rules to allow himself the chance to find love? Based off this request.
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warnings: NSFW, some proofreading, no smut in this chapter, no use of y/n, not too many descriptions of reader (Alejandro is taller than reader), original characters introduced, age gap (not specified but keep it legal), stalker behavior by unwanted suitor, brief mentions of sexual harassment, mentions of blood/violence, mentions of narcos/cartels, mentions of drugs, mutual pining a/n: the first chapter of my first ever series! this chapter will establish their dynamic and the story! enjoy!
Alejandro’s P.O.V.
Alejandro walks through the backdoor of Rudy’s home, hearing the music and lively chatter of the Parra and Vargas family. He goes around and greets both families and friends until he ultimately sees you. You’re talking to Rudy’s younger sister, Ximena, the two of you notoriously always joined at the hip. His heart begins to race once he sees you laugh. He pretends to listen to a conversation with Rudy, but his eyes keep moving back to you.
Dios, that smile… He’s not supposed to think your smile is pretty or that your laugh perfectly scratches that itch in his brain. Your Ximena’s best friend for god sakes, part of the Parra family at this point. Alejandro shouldn’t be interested, you're younger than him, not prepared for the life he has. It doesn’t matter that both the Parra and Vargas family know of the mutual attraction and try to push Alejandro to swoop you up before someone else does, he doesn’t – he won’t ruin you.  
That doesn’t mean he can flip a switch on his emotions. He can’t just tell himself to ignore the desire and your allure. Alejandro watches as you get up to dance with one of Rudy’s cousins, Javier or Jaime or whatever his name is. Jealousy burns his stomach while you laugh the moment you’re spun in a circle. He feels someone bump his shoulder and turns to see Ximena.
“You should ask her to dance. I think she’ll say yes,” Ximena says as she points to you. 
“Don’t point,” Alejandro says as embarrassment colors his cheeks from being caught. “No, I’m not going to ask her to dance. I wasn’t–wasn't even looking at her.” 
She raises her eyebrow at his words. “Honestly, Alejandro, I don’t know why you do this to yourself. You two obviously like each other. And like I told Rudy, I’m okay if my best friend and older brother date.” 
Alejandro whips his head around,” Rudy is interested in–” 
“No, menso,” Ximena interrupts with a laugh,” you’re my other older brother.” [Dummy]
Alejandro remembers to breathe in that moment. He should’ve known Ximena was talking about him. He and Rudy consider themselves brothers and of course Ximena would also consider Alejandro her brother as well. Her words bounce around in his head. A selfish part of him thinks you would fit well in his life. 
You would be okay to wait for him while he’s on mission. You would busy yourself on his ranch by riding his horses or having picnics in his peach orchard. Maybe you’d visit his mom and calm her nerves while he’s away. You wouldn’t be too scared when he’s gone on dangerous missions because you’d know he’d always find a way back to you. 
He wonders if you’d enjoy a weekend camping up in the mountains or if you’d let him take you to the restaurant you love so much or if you’d enjoy walking around town where everyone could see you two together. Alejandro always stops wondering the moment he realizes other people would bear witness to the relationship. What would they think about him, a man roughened up by war and bloodshed, taking advantage of such a sweet girl like you?  
Alejandro knows you’ll say yes if he asks you to dance. He’d be stupid if he didn’t notice how you look at him and the way you touch his arm when he’s close. He doesn’t allow himself to be alone with you, knowing he’ll fall to his knees and beg for your affection. So instead Alejandro, as much as it pains him, hopes that you’ll find someone. That you’ll focus your pretty eyes on someone else. Then, God willing, Alejandro won’t be tempted by you anymore. 
Ximena pokes his arm, gaining his attention once more. “Will you dance with me?” 
He nods and follows her to the dance floor as a new song begins. You’re still dancing with Rudy’s cousin, whatever-his-name-is continuing to spin you around and make you laugh. A minute into the song, Ximena abruptly spins them both around and puts them right next to you. 
“Javier, you need to teach me how to dance,” Ximena says as she lets go of Alejandro. 
“Uh,” Javier turns to look at you then back at his cousin,” sure yeah, next song–” 
“No, now!” 
Before Alejandro knows what’s happening, he’s pushed towards you and Ximena whisks Javier away. You look at Alejandro and give him a confused smile.
“We don’t have to–” you begin to say. 
“I guess we should–” Alejandro interrupts,” Oh. Si no quieres bailar conmigo, we don’t have to.” He’s not sure why he feels a pinch in his heart. [If you don’t want to dance with me] 
“No–I mean, yes. Why don’t we just dance?” you stumble over your words. 
The music has now switched to a new song, something soft and romantic. Alejandro stares into your eyes and grasps one of your hands in his. His other hand is placed on your hip and you both begin to sway to the music. The rest of the guests fade away until it's just you too holding each other close. He falls victim to the pools of color in your eyes and the slope of your nose. He tries to stay strong and not glance at your soft lips, but eventually he does. 
“I didn’t realize you were such a great dancer, Coronel,” you whisper. 
Alejandro lets out a small chuckle and grasps your hand a little tighter. The dress that you’re wearing is thin enough that he can feel the warmth of your skin on your back.
“My mom taught me,” he whispers back. “She said if I ever want a wife I need to know how to dance.” 
“Señora Vargas is a smart lady, that's why I like her–” 
“She likes you too, nena,” Alejandro interrupts,” she likes you too.” 
He’s being honest. His mother along with Rudy’s always have nothing but good things to say about you. Qué niña tan lista e independiente. She’s going to make someone very happy, they’d say. [What a smart and independent girl]
“Can I cut in?” Rudy says. 
Alejandro reluctantly lets your hand go. He walks away and turns as you and Rudy begin to dance, catching your eyes and giving you another smile. 
- - - 
Reader's P.O.V.
“¿Todo bien?” Rudy asks with concern clouding his features. [Everything okay?]
“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be–oh… That,” you respond. 
A few days prior, you and Ximena visited a bar in town. Las Almas is a small town, mostly everyone knows each other. When a couple of drinks were placed in front of you by the bartender, you both thought maybe a friend or family member had sent them. What you weren’t expecting was a guy dripped in gold and silk to slide up next to you, a little too close for comfort. You tried to deny the drinks, already knowing where this was going. 
From the clothes he wore and the way he talked, even before he told you what he did for a living, you already knew. When El Sin Nombre reigned supreme in Las Almas, guys like him existed in every corner. Guys who thought that one day they would run the Las Almas Cartel if they pushed enough merchandise or threatened enough people, all in expensive clothing. 
You hadn’t seen him before and he confirmed your suspicions when he told you he was from more down south. His name was León and he was here to take advantage of the border that separated Las Almas and Texas. You and Ximena sat there in disbelief, thinking that maybe someone was pulling a prank on you. 
León spoke so casually about everything, like if it was no big deal selling hardcore drugs or amassing enough artillery for a small army. Your body ran cold at his words. Life had improved drastically at the exile of El Sin Nombre. Yet here was this random guy who was able to enter Las Almas so easily. 
He didn’t seem to notice or care as you and Ximena stared back in horror. León, if that was even his real name or just a moniker, took a small baggie filled with white powder out of his pocket and squeezed your upper thigh. 
“It’s supposed to… heighten, every cell in your body,” he said while running a hand up and down your cold skin. 
You’re not sure how Ximena managed to safely drag you out of the bar, a weak excuse thrown at León. The two of you drove to the Vaqueros’ base where Rudy was stationed for the night. No way were you going to risk León following you back to your house. Rudy took your words’ seriously and dispatched two soldiers to go check the bar if he was still there. They didn’t find him, no surprise, but they did see him leave and arrive through the security cameras. 
Ximena convinced you to stay the night at their house, just so you wouldn’t be alone. Rudy decided to keep what happened quiet, wanting to gather as much evidence as he could before presenting the information to Alejandro. The trail has run cold, Rudy not being able to track which roads León used to get into and leave Las Alamas. No new property had been bought recently and there were no new satellite images of any incoming trucks or planes passing through Las Almas. 
You thought you had seen him while walking to work the following morning, someone with the same build and awful fashion sense standing across the street, but when you glanced back there was no one there. 
“I thought I saw him the other day but… it might have just been my mind playing tricks on me.” 
Rudy nods at your words.”If you see him again, please and I mean it please, call me or Alejandro immediately. Don’t engage, we don’t know anything about this guy.” 
“I will Rudy, I promise.” 
Rudy gives you a brotherly kiss on your forehead and leads you off the dancefloor once the song finishes. You spend the rest of the evening talking and eating while trying to dodge Javier’s advances. He’s cute and polite, but he can’t compare to Alejandro. Sooner rather than later you’ll have to let the crush go, but there’s a small part of your heart that still holds hope. 
Alejandro managed to focus his sole attention on you while dancing and even now you keep finding him look at you before quickly glancing away once he’s been caught. The last thing you want to do is seem desperate, but you wish he would let go of his annoying principles for just one moment. 
As the night goes on, neither family seems to be getting tired or having any plans to stop the party. You have a busy schedule in the morning and it's still somewhat of a drive back into town from Rudy’s ranch. You begin to say your goodbyes, and surprisingly Alejandro offers to walk you out. 
“You’re sure you don’t want me to drive you, nena?” 
You smile at the nickname,“I’m sure, Alejandro. Thank you.”
He holds the car door open for you and waits in the driveway while you reverse out onto the road. You stay smiling throughout the entire 15 minute drive back to your house and even as when parking your car. Right as you step onto the porch, you notice the door to the house slightly open. Your brain begins to race with a million thoughts and it becomes difficult to breathe. 
Even in the moonlight you can see the doorknob and lock have been knocked off for easy entry. Against your better judgment, you slowly tip toe up the porch and push open the door. There, on your entry table, is a large bouquet of red roses with a note sticking from the top. Cold sweat runs down your back and you stay frozen to the spot. You’re scared to enter more into the house to find safety in your room but also scared to run the few steps back to the car. 
The party and Rudy’s ranch seem so far away now. You take a deep breath and run back to your car while pressing the unlock button only once so it opens just the driver’s side. You don’t know if someone is waiting to grab you outside or if they’re waiting inside, but you don’t want to risk it. Once in the safety of the car, you check the back seat quickly and speed out of the driveway. You press Rudy’s name on your phone and begin to explain in rushed words what just happened. 
The drive to the Vaqueros' base seems long and each car that passes next or behind you seems like a threat. The moment you pull up to the entrance, the soldier on duty waves you in. You park in front of the building that holds Rudy and Alejandro’s office as another truck parks next to yours. Before you know it, Alejandro has yanked your trembling body out of the car and squeezes you to his chest. 
“Are you okay, nena? Are you hurt? Did anything happen to you?” He says his words in a rush. 
“I’m–I’m okay, no one was there I think. Where’s–where’s Rudy? I thought he was meeting me here?” 
Alejandro sighs and presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “He went to check your house with a few other soldiers. They’re going to review the security system and see if they can find who did it.” 
You close your eyes and nod to his words. Your body begins to calm down while Alejandro keeps you locked in his arms. His hand massages the back of your skull and your grip the front of his shirt to keep you balanced. 
“You should’ve told me,” he whispers,” you–you need to tell me stuff like this. Gracias a Dios que no te paso nada. Let’s get you inside, yeah?” [Thank God nothing happened to you] 
Alejandro leads you into the building and directly to his office. He makes you lock the door, you guess more for comfort than for safety, as this is most likely the safest place in Las Almas. He leaves to get some pillows and blankets for you to rest a bit. 
“Only for a while until Rudy comes back. Then we’ll take you with us.”  
You’re not sure if that means back to Rudy’s or to Alejandro’s ranch, but you’re too shaken up to ask more questions. You begin to think about the state of your home. There was someone in your home. Someone went in and did God knows what and left a bouquet of roses. To taunt you? To make you cower in fear? You’re not even sure if they destroyed or took anything. You most likely know who did this but you don’t want to believe it was him. 
- - - 
Alejandro’s P.O.V.
He hasn’t stopped shaking with anger the moment Rudy got the terrified call from you. Alejandro ran to his truck and managed to arrive at base in only a few minutes. He did his best to control his anger at Rudy for not informing him about the incident at the bar. It was Rudy’s job to gather intel first then present information to Alejandro if it posed a threat. They weren’t even sure if it was the same guy or just an isolated incident. 
Once you explained, your voice trembling from adrenaline and fear, how you didn’t stick around and jumped back into your car, he praised you for being such a smart girl. He’s not letting you back into that house until they find who did this. Alejandro doesn’t care if he has to drag you kicking and screaming to stay at his or Rudy’s ranch. 
Alejandro returns to the office and wraps a blanket around your shoulders warm your cold skin. Once he’s sure you're comfortable, he leaves again to meet with Rudy downstairs, making sure you lock the door behind him. 
“Did you find anything?” His voice is rough as he talks to Rudy. 
Rudy holds up a plastic evidence bag with a white note and some words scribbled on it. 
“I’ll see if we can get prints on it to identify this ‘León’ guy.” 
“You think it’s him?” Alejandro asks. 
“Read the note, Coronel.” 
You didn’t give me a name the last time we talked. I found you anyway. I even know your favorite flowers. Red roses, right? Like the color of the lipstick you wore that night at the bar. Nos vemos pronto, muñeca. –León [See you soon, doll]
Anger and something akin to fear rises in Alejandro’s body. No one gets to threaten you and make you fear your own home. No one gets to stalk you and make you feel unsafe in the town you grew up in. He made sure that Las Almas would be a safe place for you, for everyone. And he’s not going to let some wannabe narco cause you terror and destroy everything he’s built. 
“We need to get the security footage from her house and the surrounding houses. We need to confirm he only left a bouquet of roses and nothing else. I need someone to change the locks on her door and–” 
“Coronel,” Rudy interrupts Alejandro’s anxious tirade,” Coronel, we are doing all of those things, no te preocupes. We need to focus on finding this guy and figuring out if he’s actually moving coke.” [Don’t worry]
“Rudy, that’s your focus right now? What about her–” 
“I know, Coronel. That’s my next point. He thinks she’s alone, single. What if–and hear me out before you yell at me again–what if she has someone?” 
Alejandro stares back at Rudy in confusion. “Yes, I expect her to have un escolta the moment she leaves base and until we find León.” [a guard] 
“That’s not–that’s not what I’m saying. What if we have one of the soldiers step in as her boyfriend–” 
“¿Qué chingados estás diciendo, Rodolfo?” [What the fuck are you saying]
Rudy ignores Alejandro and keeps talking,” Maybe it’ll scare him enough to leave her alone and then we can focus on–” 
“Rodolfo,” Alejandro says in a voice simmering with anger,” I will not allow one of the soldiers to date–” 
“Pretend date–” Rudy interrupts. 
“Me vale ver–” [I don’t give a shi–]
“Or you could do it. Who else than the Coronel to scare a narco away?” 
At that, he stays quiet. Rudy stares back, an obvious glint of victory in his eyes. Alejandro thinks about the situation. While he trusts each and everyone of his soldiers with his life, the idea of one of them dating you, even if it's pretend, makes his stomach churn. And as ridiculous as Rudy’s plan sounds, he’s right. Alejandro would have a much better chance at protecting you if León and everyone in Las Alamas believes you two are dating. 
- - - 
Reader's P.O.V.
“Wait–I’m sorry. I don’t understand how this is supposed to help me?” 
You’re in Alejandro’s guest room with Rudy, Ximena, and Alejandro. Ximena looks at you and back at her brothers with the same confused look. Rudy and Alejandro, well mostly Rudy, just explained their plan to get León away from you at least until they find out where his operations are happening. Alejandro hasn’t said much but his eyes don’t leave you. 
“If León is interested in moving merca’ through Las Almas, then he’s not going anywhere. We’lll find him,” Rudy’s voice is serious, “but we’re worried about you. Alejandro thinks it’s best if you two pretend to date.” [goods] 
You want to laugh, you really do. In only a few hours you went from flirting with Alejandro to your house being broken into to now being his pretend girlfriend. 
“This sounds like one of those romance novels,” Ximena says. 
Alejandro shakes his head. In a few strides he reaches then kneels in front of you. “This is—this is serious. We need to make this believable, nena.” He reaches up to cup your jaw and without thinking you place your hand over his. 
“Okay, Alejandro… Let's do it.” 
part 2 | part 3 [epilogue]
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longstoryshort22 · 7 days
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Peter is brand Taylor talking to real Taylor, I Look in People’s Windows is real Taylor talking to brand Taylor (the two were supposed to become one, but the more famous she gets the harder it is)😭😭
The whole theme of the album is Taylor herself and her career and how the industry has affected her, joe/matty/travis/kim are just red herrings bye im gonna go cry listening to Peter
(more details⬇️)
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I’m not saying that some songs aren’t about those specific people, I’m just saying they’re only PART OF the theme, I believe her father (and other big heads in the industry) had a big influence on her career and forced her to stay in the closet from the very beginning, that messed her up, she had to hide her true self and keep bearding, and in 2019 she planned to come out but didn’t because of the masters heist, now it’s because she’s gotten more famous than ever that she has too much to lose. So maybe these men he dated, she did like them and she had multiple feelings when these relationships ended, but it’s all part of who the industry had made her into; she had one true love (maybe Karlie) but she couldn’t be with that person that’s why some songs are about a true deep love lost, but that’s still part of the “her career” theme, because of her career, she can’t be with that person. (more details⬇️)
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What’s really interesting in this theme is that she’s calling out her father in multiple songs because he really made her life harder…
In Cassandra, (the obvious theory is that Cassandra representing gaylors bc we’ve been saying the truth but never believed. And the first verse is about her getting the news of her masters heist just before her coming out plan, and then “stone’s thrown” is referencing Stonewall.) And in the bridge “They knew the whole time that I was onto something. The family, the pure greed, the Christian chorus line. They all said nothing. Blood's thick but nothing like a payroll. Bet they never spared a prayer for my soul” she’s saying her family knew something but said nothing because greed and money, we saw the leaked emails of her father and how he cares more about making money out of Taylor’s career than caring about her as his daughter, so I think this bridge is about her father, also about religious trauma may or may not due to him.
In The Bolter, “A curious child, ever reviled by everyone except her own father. With a quite bewitching face, splendidly selfish, charmingly helpless, excellent fun 'til you get to know her, then she runs like it's a race” she’s talking about herself being a precocious uniquely intelligent ambitious child, which everyone reviled except her father. why? because he wanted to invest money on her, he controlled how she conducted her career from the beginning.
What’s crazier is that Robin may be about her father too. That song sounds like a sweet song but she’s faking it like “all this showmanship to keep it for you in sweetness”. If she’s referring to her father (only wanting to make money out of her career) in this song then “you’re an animal, you are bloodthirsty” makes so much more sense. And the “buried down deep and out of your reach, the secret we all vowed to keep it from you in sweetness” her father probably knows about her queerness but wants her and everyone to keep it quiet.
In But Daddy I Love Him, “people only raise you to cage you” is pretty obvious about her father forcing her to stay in the closet, and “people try and save you cause they hate you” is literally about homophobes. “Dutiful daughter, all my plans were laid” is about her father laying all the plans for her, which isn’t always what she wants. “I'd rather burn my whole life down, than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning. I'll tell you something about my good name, it's mine alone to disgrace” reminds me of that scene in Miss Americana where her father was lecturing why she couldn’t public her opinions. “Thinking it can change the beat of my heart when he touches me. And counteract the chemistry, and undo the destiny” is so queer coded. “Sanctimoniously performing soliloquies I'll never see / You ain't gotta pray for me” another reference to religious trauma.
So all of this, about her father, about her lover and other men, it’s all connected to her career and she’s looking back at it, thinking and reflecting on it, that’s it that’s the blog
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hatchetmanofficial · 6 months
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Why does Alan seem less supernatural than his coworkers?
Of course he’s just as dangerous but a lot of his unhinged behaviour and readiness to break the rules can be explained by the way he grew up abused, was being forced to be aggressive to defend himself, his lack of socialisation, being rebellious against a society that didn’t help him, and even an underlying mental condition (maybe inherited from his dad). With the trauma, isolation and demands of his job then turning it all up to 11. I mean, despite being axe crazy and a bit sociopathic Alan still seems mostly human. If a little animalistic. He’s very strong and fast and completely ignores the norms of society but still looks and acts basically human.
Whereas you’ve got dudes like Carver whose whole appearance has warped, and Stitches who was literally created a month ago from components and kills in a body horror way. One look and you know something is very wrong.
Alan also seems to be the only one with the wish or ability to defy the boss. Is it because he rejected the work name and mentally kept his own identity? Are names power here? Literally or symbolically.
It feels like the Boss employs vulnerable drifters, the lost souls. Does the Boss find it easier to control you if you want to reject/forget your identity, are running from your past or a bad situation, or (like Stitches) never had one?
Obviously it is a predatory Leonine contract, basically a deal with the devil. Nobody ends up like this coming from a good situation or with any better choices available. And the horrific consequences if you leave or disobey are a huge factor. But I’m covering subtleties and the differences between the coworkers.
Or is it because in spite of how cruel life and people have been to Alan he still has a tiny scrap of humanity left? Before he only had the solace of animals. Doe Eyes has reminded him how starved he is for kindness and love, maybe recalling the time before his mom died when he had a family, and Doe Eyes is human.
It makes it hard to obey the solitary rule. To stay misanthropic and emotionally shut down enough to continue indiscriminately killing people for the Boss.
(I’m the shy anon who suggested the idea of untraumatized Ranger Alan a long while back 👋 Wherever he is, whenever he is, I hope he’s happy and well adjusted.)
(I love this question and I love your username!!!)
I like to think that Alan still has a part of him, that wants to weasel his way back into society, especially after meeting his Doe-eyes. But he can never have it. It's selfish of him to want.
Boss is unpredictable and very much so picks those who believe they are someone without a cause. I'd like to think that The Beast's song "Come Wayward Souls" applies to him. However, he can still influence his employers. If he sees someone get out of line, he would simply have to put them back in place. Alan, however, never gave Boss any hassle, not even when he first found him. You could say he has a clean track record when it comes to his job. Until doe-eyes that is.
When I say that Boss kinda has favorites.
He truly does.
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hanafubukki · 1 year
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Lilia’s Relationship with Malleus and Silver / The Image of a King Upheld by Malleus
Book 7 spoilers
So I’m just thinking about Lilia and his complicated relationship with Malleus and Silver. Literally, it’s at two ends of the spectrum how his relationship is with each of them.
On one hand, he raised Malleus to be a king. He had placed lines between himself and Malleus to a certain degree. He protected him and installed in him the knowledge to be a great king and what is expected of him. Even at the end of book 6, we see Lilia say how a future king shouldn’t be getting lost in his thoughts. And for just a few moments, you can see how that kind of upsets Malleus a bit before he agrees.
Then we have Silver, Lilia found this baby as far as we know, and raised him. He wasn’t raising a future king. There was no expectations or rules when it came to caring for Silver. He just raised him as best as he could and he loved the child and the child loved him in return. To the point of wanting to do his father proud, and also wanting to always be there for him.
You can see the two different ways that Lilia raised and cared for them, and they, in return loved him.
On one hand, I can see Malleus being envious. Envious of the love Silver received compared to him. But he’s not, rather it was Silver crying that tipped Malleus over, because he loves Silver as well.
While Silver wanted to make up for all the love that Lilia always showed him and be there for him till the end but he can’t even do that.
All because Lilia freaking Vanrouge decided that he didn’t want people he loves to suffer the same way he did when he lost loved ones. So, he leaves. Causing a cascade of heartbreak.
Now going back to Malleus, I think about all those years he had with Lilia, but I think about how lonely he might have felt even with those years. He loved Lilia and Lilia loved him…within limitations. He was after all raising the future king. But then remember, Lilia wasn’t always at Malleus’ side. He would leave on adventures while Malleus was at home. And little Malleus would look forward to his return. He would be happy to see Lilia and hear all the stories he would return with and the little souvenirs and I imagine seeing Lilia happy was what made it worth the wait for his return and maybe even what stopped Malleus from being selfish and telling Lilia to stay.
Because that’s how he was being raised, think about the happiness of others, respect their wishes, think about the peoples’ wants…that’s what it means to be a king and the sacrifices that needs to be made.
But it would hurt Malleus wouldn’t it? But Malleus can never show it because even those closest to him expected greatness from him. Expected him to be this great figure that would take over for his grandmother. He will be a King.
So, is it not expected then? For Malleus to, at one point, reach that tipping point?
And that tipping point was at the hurt he saw in his loved ones which reflected his own. Which finally allowed him to express his own.
Because a king can’t fall to his own emotions, but he can for others.
A king can make sacrifices so others can be happy.
So, won’t you let him show you a happy ending?
Even at the cost of his life?
475 notes · View notes
onigiriico · 8 months
Text
Amane audio drama (t2) - English TL
[ links: Spotify | Youtube ]
So much religion talk in this one. So much. I typed so much stuff into DeepL my JP keyboard app crashed at some point, but! it is done at last! 🎉 As always, if you've got any questions or find a mistranslated line, you can find me on Twitter or send me an ask (and in case you've got some money to spare & feel like supporting me extra, you can also find me over on Ko-fi)! But, without further ado:
⬇️ translation under the cut ⬇️
(Es enters)
E: Prisoner no.8, Amane. It’s time for your interrogation. Let’s talk for the first time in a while.
A: Warden.
E: What is it, Prisoner?
A: We've been disappointed by you.
E: Hah?
A: Even though we could sense the possibility of the new world we desire here in Milgram… and in you.
E: I don’t care how much you look down on me. I told you that won’t work.
A: Furthermore, you may say incomprehensible things, such as us “not being forgiven”...
E: Oi.
A: But we are generous. For now, let us make some time for a conversation with you. After all, our history is one that is built on dialogue.
E: Oi. Listen to what I’m saying.
A: What is it?
E: Amane. Don’t think you’ll be able to lead the conversation with that total change in attitude. Is it the result of the judgment that you’ve ended up like this?
A: “Like this”?
E: The dazed look in your eyes. The atmosphere around you. The way you speak. In comparison to the first trial, it’s like you’re a different person.
A: Hm.
E: Everyone who was unforgiven told me they heard voices judging their sins. They’re experiencing a lot of emotional stress as a result. Were your changes influenced by that as well?
A: Hah? Those stupid voices, huh? Yeah. I have heard them as well. However, such things do not pose a major problem.
E: What?
A: We have firm teachings. We have a clear and noble faith. No matter what kinds of things other people might say, these things cannot be shaken.
E: Faith… That would be referring to the religion you believe in, right?
A: Yes. It seems like the power Milgram holds is real. Did you have a look as well? At our faith.
E: Yeah. Though it was a depiction of a fairly small group of people… I’ve judged that your murder was the result of religion – of faith.
A: It wasn’t murder. It was merely a punishment in line with our doctrine.
E: So it’s not a sin, you mean?
A: Is faith a sin?
E: Faith itself is free. I’m not religious myself, but I understand that some people might be saved by it.
A: Hm. Is that so? Are the prisoners who weren’t forgiven feeling lost right now? Maybe they need our faith as well.
E: I’d rather you spare me the missionary work inside the prison.
A: Faith is free. It exists for people who are feeling lost.
E: … We’ve digressed. So – just what are you right now? You’ve been saying “we” this whole time. Does that mean you are not Amane Momose right now?
A: Right now, I am both Amane Momose and I am not. I am speaking on behalf of our faith. I am speaking as “we”, who believe that dialogue and warnings are in order since you made the misjudgment to not forgive us.
E: So you’re saying I’m talking to the very concept of your faith right now?
A: We don’t mind you thinking of it that way.
E: Huh.
A: Well then. Let us warn you once again. Warden. You judged that Milgram couldn’t forgive us, correct?
E: Yeah, that’s right.
A: As stated previously, our actions were in line with our doctrine, and thus cannot count as sins. Thus, Milgram is in the wrong.
E: You’ve killed a person.
A: In line with our doctrine.
E: You understand that you’ve broken the law, right?
A: We’ve talked about this before. There are things more important than the law. That would be our teachings.
E: I won’t acknowledge you turning such selfish rules into a standard of judgment. I won’t allow it. End of story.
A: …
E: Both religion and faith are free. However, a doctrine can’t become a universal standard of judgment.
A: You fool. Isn’t Milgram trying to enforce a new standard of judgment precisely because laws cannot guide this world onto the right path? Are you still being weighed down by the law?
E: As someone who’s just the warden, it’s not exactly my ambition to know about Milgram’s philosophy. It’s not because it’s against the law – but as Milgram, your murder can’t be forgiven. I judged it that way. That’s all.
A: …
E: Milgram… denies your doctrine.
A: If you do not adjust your way of thinking… we, too, will never be able to forgive you.
E: Heh.
A: What’s so funny?
E: What do you mean, “we”? You’re making me laugh. What you’re doing is just plain murder – no matter whether we’re talking in general or according to religion. It’s murder.
A: …!
E: Understand that. Amane Momose. It’s not “you” (plural) who killed someone – it’s you (singular). Don’t look away from your own actions by playing pretend!
A: … Ha…haha…! - You’ve insulted us… [You’ve insulted] God…!
E: So what?
A: This is unforgivable! I won’t forgive you! (screams)
(Amane tries to strike Es, but gets stopped by the barrier)
E: I’m telling you it’s impossible for prisoners to attack the warden.
A: I won’t forgive you…! I won’t forgive you!
E: Did you get those scissors from the storage room? Were you never taught that you’re not supposed to use those on people?
A: In light of our doctrine, your insult to us is more than enough to warrant a punishment! I won’t forgive you! I won’t forgive you!
(she tries and fails to attack them again)
E: Well… it’s in vain, so you might as well just listen to me like this.
A: I won’t forgive you! I won’t forgive you!
E: Prisoners can’t attack the warden. This is one of Milgram’s core rules, though a certain guy with multiple personalities slipped past it.
A: I won’t forgive you! I won’t forgive you!
E: Which means that Milgram doesn’t decide who the prisoners are based on their body, but based on their mind. If the mind is a different one, the rule doesn’t apply. It bothers me that it has a loophole, but…
A: I’ll kill you…! I’ll kill you!!
E: Thanks to this defective rule, we’ve now confirmed this: the you holding those scissors right now isn’t a god or a concept. It’s Amane Momose herself.
A: … I’ll…!
E: So, what you’re doing right now really is just a game of pretend. This is stupid.
A: …
E: This is the head-on battle with Milgram that you wanted.
A: Shut up…!
E: What’s wrong? Have you ended up wanting to be treated like a child after all?
A: Shut up!!
E: In fact, if you ask me, the fact that you are a child has a lot to do with this matter.
A: …!
E: No matter what you do, no matter how grown-up you behave – you’re a child. That’s an unchangeable truth.
A: You’re a child, too!
E: Wrong. I’m fifteen, so I’m an adult in Puerto Rico and Haiti. You’re twelve, so you’re a child no matter the country.
A: …!!
E: Hehe. You look angry.
A: I don’t.
E: You do.
A: I don’t!
E: Well, either way is fine. In the end, there’s two main reasons as to why children get reduced sentences under the law – the possibility of reformation and the influence of the environment, I believe.
A: …
E: In this case, it’s mainly the latter. I’ve said this before – during childhood, the things that the parents teach a child have a great impact on them, and the environment one grows up in has immense influence as well. A child who is born into a very religious environment will grow up believing that those are the rules of the world.
A: What are you trying to say?
E: In other words, they will turn their faith into their entire life – feeling as if their doctrine is the whole world.
A: …
E: Previously, you objected to being considered [mentally] underdeveloped based on your age. I suppose you were right about that. Your self really is fully developed. However, that self is one that was built in a particular environment, isolated from society.
A: …
E: That’s exactly why… We have also speculated whether this really was your crime, or that of your parents – of your surroundings.
A: …!
E: But as I said before, there’s different ways these components could have worked together—
A: “We”? What’s “we”? Are you not just “I”?
E: … I…?
A: Aren’t we the same? Me and Warden-san. You know, I’m aware that I’m out of the ordinary. That my environment was peculiar, and that everyone [else] is normal.
E: Amane…
A: In fact, there have been people who said that to me. I’ve been told things like, “You’re being deceived.” “You can still make it right now.” “You’re crazy.”
E: …
A: You are treating me as a child after all. Because I’m a child, you believe that I must have been brainwashed. It’s not like that. I, too— children, too, understand everything! Please don’t just decide that people must be unhappy.
E: …
A: I’m happy that I was born to my parents! It was a bit difficult, and it could feel restrictive sometimes, but I’m really happy that I could grow up on such beautiful teachings! I want to live this way!
E: Is that so…
A: You call that brainwashing, don’t you? From my perspective, you also generally oppose religion based on your personal values. Why can that be blindly trusted just because you’re more people?
E: I got what you’re trying to say.
A: It’s only natural that we, who weren’t acknowledged as a society just because we’re fewer in numbers, would view the possibility of a new world through Milgram as a dream.
E: Yeah, I’ve got it! Still, I won’t recognize your doctrine. By my standards, a doctrine that approves murder cannot be forgiven!
A: Yes. I’ve understood that.
E: Milgram is a three-trial system, though. I’ll be watching and listening to the footage from your mind for now, going into deeper depths this time… and if I feel something there, I plan on firmly accepting that.
A: Facing me head-on, is that right?
E: Yeah. That’s it.
A: If you end up deciding not to forgive me – not to forgive us –, then I will not forgive you, either.
E: Yeah.
A: Ah… no, that’s wrong. I will not forgive you (plural).
E: Wha—
(machinery whirrs, bell rings)
A: “Don’t look away from your own actions by playing pretend” – that’s my line. Warden-san, it’s not just you; it’s all of you. You all said you wouldn’t forgive us. We’re meeting each other on eye level. You all won’t be allowed to not get your hands dirty.
E: … What are you saying…?
A: What could it be? Warden-san, you were the one who said “we”, so…
E: (falls to their knees) … My head… Huh…?
A: Oh? Do you have a headache? Are you alright, Warden-san?
E: …
A: Do get back up by yourself, alright? That’s a trial given to you by God.
E: (heavy breathing)
A: Both pain and illness are trials. According to our teachings, those who run from them are the worst evil there is. That’s one of the four great principles. No matter who you are, that cannot be forgiven.
E: What are you…?
A: Oh – speaking of which, there is one among the prisoners right now. An evil existence that’s trying to steal people’s trials away from them.
E: …!
A: Shidou Kirisaki… His actions violate our rules. I have given him a warning. If he continues, I suppose it will be inevitable for me to intervene.
E: …!
A: Or… could it already be too late?
E: Shut up!! (hits her) … You’re getting ahead of yourself…!
A: Using one-sided violence… that’s unfair of you.
E: Shut your mouth…! I am the one casting the judgements here!
A: Hehehe. And how does that set you apart from us?
E: … I told you to shut up… Listen to what I’m telling you.
A: Hehe… This is nice. If the world you’re striving for is admirable in my eyes… That is to say…
E: Prisoner no.8, Amane… Sing your sins…!
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nhl-stories · 20 days
Text
hornylovesickmess – Nico Hischier
Summary: Marie should know better by now, knows she should leave him alone, but Nico's like a drug. One more hit can't hurt.
Author’s Note: Almost a year to the day I finally finished this album series. Phew! Also lol to me thinking I'd have the motivation to finish it in 10 weeks. Seems clear from the title but it does get steamy below.
Word Count: 2.6k
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Album Series Masterlist
And I don't wanna be the type of person who calls you up Every time I need to get off
The view from her hotel room is taunting her. It’s sunny and bright on the Hudson River, reflecting off the buildings of the New York skyline.
Most people wouldn’t be too upset about being put up in a nice hotel and having 48 hours free in close proximity to the city, but Marie had moved away for a reason.
And still part of her is stuck here, even at a 4-star hotel minutes away from Newark airport.
So, she does what she does best and gives into her baser instincts.
She’s no stranger to crafting the perfect sext, keeping it tantalizing and teasing enough while still giving her location. Like an eloquent ‘u up?’
Marie hits send before she can second guess herself.
She shouldn’t be reaching out to him, grabbing for that loose thread and pulling for her own selfish reasons. But she’s been lonely since the move and in all honestly, just plain horny.
Nico almost swallows his tongue when he opens the text.
At first glance a simple picture of the New York skyline, but at second glance the reflection of a naked woman comes into view.
It might as well be Marie’s calling card.
He regrets opening the text in the locker room.
“What the hell has you that red Neeks?” Bastian calls from his stall.
He can feel the blush getting darker.
“The last time you looked like that was because of that flight attendant,” Bratter calls out.
When he doesn’t respond balls of tape come flying his way with a chorus of groans.
“It’s not like I texted her first!”
“You never text her first,” Jack rolls his eyes.
“I’m not texting her back.”
“Block her number while you’re at it,” Bratt responds.
Nico stashes his phone away and mostly forgets about the text.
||||
She checks her phone for about the fifth time during drinks with her friends. She knows what they’re thinking, but they’re not gonna say it.
It’s especially kind of them since Nico hasn’t responded. Even though he’s the type of guy to have read receipts on, so she knows he looked at her message.
Her phone buzzes, she pulls it out of her pocket so fast she fumbles it, dropping it on the bar. Her friend snatches it up and laughs.
“It’s a notification from Postmates, you have coupon.”
Marie feels herself flush, embarrassed to be caught like some kind of junkie waiting for their next hit.
“Jesus Christ, just go get laid! You’re unbearable when you’re wound this tight. It’s not even worth the catch up.”
“Fine, I’ll go, but only because I haven’t had sex in months. See you on my next layover.”
“Unless you’re still jonesing for that Jersey dick!”
“It’s Swiss,” Marie sticks her tongue out.
She waves down a cab, and she should give the address to her hotel, but she’s in some sort of horny fugue state. Why go back and masturbate at her hotel thinking about him when she knows his address?
Before she knows it, she’s at his door fixing her hair and trying to lean seductively against the doorframe. Maybe she’s lost her mojo during her recent dry spell.
She knocks before she loses her nerve.
Marie hears someone lumbering along around on the other side of the door. Nico finally answers the door; shirtless with a pair of gray sweats low on his hips, hair flopping about like he just woke up.
Her mouth goes dry at the familiar sight, or maybe she salivates, or somehow both at the same time. She feels so out of sync with her hormones.
But she knows she wants, scratch that, needs.
“Thought maybe the picture just didn’t do the real thing justice,” she smirks even though she kind of wants to grimace at the cheesy line.
“I was trying to let you down easy,” he’s trying to avoid eye contact.
“Well, here I am, easy and ready to be let down on your bed.”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. She can practically see his willpower crumbling piece by piece.
“C’mon, I haven’t been with anyone else since Denver.”
She dares to reach out, running a finger from his collarbone down, down, down, until Nico grabs her wrist.
“Just–“ he yanks her into the apartment, “get in here.”
Marie is flush against his chest now, she smirks, “that’s more like it.”
“Your picture got me in trouble in locker room, the boys think you’re no good for me.”
“Do you want me to be good for you?” She roughly grabs him through his sweatpants.
“I don’t think you could be if you tried,” he ruts against her palm.
She gentles her touch in response, she wants to be good, for Nico at least.
Marie can’t make eye contact now. If she looks up all the guilt of coming here after she promised herself she’d stop will come rushing back. She doesn’t have time for that when she can feel him hardening in her hand.
So, she closes her eyes and kisses him. Lets her tongue explore his mouth. Lets Nico manhandle her towards the bedroom. A path she’s too familiar with even with her eyes closed.
She doesn’t dare open her eyes until she’s flat on her back and hears Nico rummaging in the bedside table. As he comes back up with a condom, Marie works on the too many layers of clothes she’s still wearing.
He rolls on the condom and strokes himself slowly, “Is this you being good?”
Marie spreads her thighs and bites her lip, holding back demands for him to get on with it.
He pushes her legs even farther apart and nearly drapes himself over her. One finger runs up her slit, feeling how slick she is with desperation, he sucks the finger into his mouth and Marie can’t hold on any longer.
“Please, fuck, please,” she grapples for his shoulders anything to anchor her in the moment.
He doesn’t need any more encouragement than that to push in one go.
“Jesus Christ,” Marie gasps at the sudden intrusion, familiar as it is.
He sets an agonizingly slow pace, making her feel every unbearable movement without getting her any closer to her climax.
“C’mon Nico, give it to me,” she whines and clenches around him, trying to egg him on.
But it doesn’t deter him from his mission to tease her death, maybe it’s punishment for how she’s treated him.
She tries to move her own hips for more friction and still Nico keeps with his slow and steady pace.
Marie grabs his hair and makes him look at her, “I swear to god, if you don’t start really fucking me, I’m gonna explode.”
The evil little smirk he gives her, makes her stomach swoop.
“I knew you couldn’t stay good.”
“If being bad means I’ll have an orgasm, I guess I’m the devil,” she pulls him in for a kiss that’s probably too much tongue and teeth but she doesn’t care.
Then Nico takes her by surprise, flipping her onto all fours in such a fluid movement she already feels closer to coming. And that’s before he starts railing her from behind. The slap of skin and pornographic squelching fills the silence in the room.
Marie has lost all her witty words, can barely get enough air to make noises beyond tiny gasps. Nico knows exactly where to thrust, how to grip her hips, tweak her nipples, reach between her thighs and rub her clit. It’s too much, to have your body read like a book.
She clenches around him when she’s almost over the edge and feels him release, one hand tightening so hard on her hips it might bruise.
He blankets his body over her back, kissing her shoulders while he continues to rub her clit, buried deep inside her.
Her arms give out when she finally comes, her body singing with pleasure. Nico’s weight heavy on her, but she can’t bring herself to move him, it all feels too good.
She doesn’t remember when they move apart, or if they clean up at all, or if she peed afterward, she really hopes she at least did the last one. Still, she’s in hazy bliss before she’s rudely awoken from her dream-like state by her alarm obnoxiously ringing, too loudly at that.
She has to get out of the bed to find her phone her jeans pocket.
“Shit, fuck, shit,” she swears before having to put her clothes back on.
Nico’s alarm starts going off now. He sits up to see Marie half-dressed already.
“Of course,” he sounds so disappointed.
“I have a flight to catch and I still have to get my uniform and pack my suitcase.”
“Sure,” he sighs as he starts to get out of bed himself.
She probably deserves this, scratch that she knows she deserves this, but doesn’t mean she won’t defend herself.
“It’s a 9:30 Newark to DFW, look it up” she knows her shirt is inside out but that’s how late she is as she calls an Uber.
“Thanks for last night,” she gives Nico a quick kiss and leaves before he can respond.
Of course, when the elevator opens, Jack is the one standing on the other side, with an exhausted looking boy next to him. It’s probably his brother, Marie’s brain supplies the small Devils knowledge she has.
“That fucking idiot.”
“I showed up here, the blame is on me,” Marie holds her hands up in surrender.
“But the inside shirt and messed up hair is probably on him.”
“Probably can mostly blame me for that too, I know you want to.”
The look of disgust on his face makes that very clear.
Thankfully, the elevator door opens before the torture can continue.
||||
Marie goes back to rebuilding her resolve. She was trying to quit him cold turkey, not mess up Nico’s perfect little world again.  But she couldn’t resist one more hit of her favorite drug.
Still, the universe isn’t making it easy for her to stay sober.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!”
Marie and her coworkers all jump at the exclamation. When she turns around there’s Jack Hughes.
Nico is nowhere to be seen, so Marie is sure she can get away without making much of a scene.
“Of all the hotels in a city with multiple airports…” Jack doesn’t seem amused at her response, “I’m just as surprised as you, sorry the universe is clearly playing a sick joke on us.”
She runs off to her room before she has a chance encounter with Nico. Begs off from dinner plans with her coworkers. Masturbates in the shower in hopes of taking the edge off.
She’s wound up like a rubber band knowing Nico is so close.  For all she knows, there’s only a wall separating them right now.
And of course, she gives in, because Marie is a fiend and a rotten person. How can she resist when the world laid it out on a platter like this.
She hopes he’s stronger than her and doesn’t respond, but she texts him regardless: I have it on good authority we’re in the same hotel
Marie can barely put her phone down before she gets a response.
Yeah for someone who doesn’t want me interacting with you Jack was quick to gossip
She can hear his tone through the words, hear his husky laugh at his own joke. Her chest feels like it’s squeezing her heart. Makes her act out of character.
Wanna get dinner or drinks or something?
Marie from a few months ago would be nauseous at this kind of proposition, but her present-self feels like she owes Nico… something different.
So, she finds herself tucked into a corner booth at some restaurant Nico says he’s been to before.
And she laughs at his jokes. Brushes her hand over his. Turns a bit soppy looking into his warm brown eyes.
And she knows she made a mistake.
But still, she holds his hand as they walk back to the hotel; swaying back and forth, a little wine-drunk.
Marie walks him to the door like she’s some sort of gentleman at the end of a first date, they both know the connotations are anything but gentlemanly.
“This was nice,” she smiles up at him.
“If you were still in Jersey, we could have nights like this all the time,”
That should deflate her a bit, but she’s made it too far for it to end here with some serious conversation, so she reaches into his pocket to grab his room key and unlock the door, shoving him into the room.
She kisses him, hard and needy. She desperately wants her lips everywhere. She follows that train down his jaw.
“Clearly you want this kind of thing too, or you wouldn’t come crawling to me anytime we’re in the same place,” his hands are bunching up the skirt of her dress.
She bites down on his neck, a little meaner than she should. But it gets him going enough to throw her onto his bed. Her underwear is gone and a finger is pushing into her before she can make any moves.
A second and third are soon to follow. The pressure from his thumb on her clit is enough to make her throw back her head and enjoy the intoxication.
His other hand cups her jaw, makes her open her eyes and look at him.
“This is all I wanted, but you had to be a brat who let me find out you moved by showing up to your empty apartment,” he stops moving his fingers, stops using any pressure.
“I apologized for that,” she whines, desperate and uncaring.
“Did you?” He crooks his fingers just so.
“I gave you a blow job,” Marie grits out.
He raises his brows while he pulls out, leaving her feeling emptier than ever before.
“Fuck.”
The realization crashes over her harder than any orgasm ever could.
She scrambles off the bed throwing on her underwear and grabbing her phone.
“I’m deleting your number.”
“What?”
“I moved to a city that doesn’t even have a hockey team to stay away from you and that’s not even working.”
“You moved because of me?” The crease between his brow is like a canyon.
“You wanted more and I knew I wasn’t– I’m not in a place to give that to you, but fuck! Whatever I’m doing now– I’m just being cruel, aren’t I?”
“I’m not exactly turning you away.”
“Doesn’t mean I should keep using you,” tears she wasn’t expecting start to well up, “Nico you’re worth a lot more than a quick fuck from a flight attendant who happens to be in the same zip code as you.”
Nico just stares at her and Marie knows she has to be the bigger person here.
“You should block me on everything too, don’t give me a way to weasel my way back in.”
Once she’s dressed, she moves towards Nico, moves a strand of hair off his forehead.
She feels like she should say something meaningful, but this isn’t that kind of relationship; Marie made sure of that when she scorched the earth behind her when she left.
She kisses him one last time and hopes she’ll be able to find her next hit in someone else.
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