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sweatervest-obsessed · 5 months

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Violent Delights Have Violent Ends

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

WC: 1.8k

TW: Serial killers, murders, blood, referencing to infidelity,

A/N: This has been something I have been thinking about for a while. I hope y'all enjoy it!

Spencer did not realize that someone could know more about anything intellectual than he did. It honestly baffled him, when Hotch called him into the office, to introduce the two of you.

“Spencer this is Doctor Y/N Y/L/N, Doctor Y/L/N, this is Doctor Spencer Reid.”

He gave you a small smile, and a slightly awkward wave. You were beautiful, there was no doubt about it, an absolute plus to the fact that you were intelligent. He was captivated by your eyes but quickly coughed and looked back at Hotch.

“Doctor Y/L/N—”

“Please Agent, call me by my first name after the initial introductions, Doctor makes me feel a tad bit ridiculous after like the second time.” You couldn’t have been more than twenty four, Reid deduced.

Hotch smiled at you, nodding. “Please, call me Aaron, or Hotch, I feel the same way about agent. Reid,” He turned towards Reid. “Y/N, is going to be a consultant on this next case, and you two will be working closely together.”

Reid was suddenly excited by the prospect of working with a consultant. He usually dreaded them, but something about you made him excited to actually be able to converse intellectually with someone on the team.

But luckily for Morgan, you were not what anyone was expecting. You all had boarded the jet, sitting around and chatting since you had a long flight from DC to Oregon, not really willing to get into the details of the case just yet.

“So, Doctor Y/L/N, what made you choose Shakespeare?”

You rolled your eyes. “Agent Morgan, if you keep using my official title, you’re going to be talking to the wall. Wanna try again?”

His jaw dropped slightly, enjoying the banter you were providing. Derek Morgan was far from ugly, far from it. But he simply wasn’t your type. But that did not mean you couldn’t flirt back.

“Well then, Miss Y/N, why Shakespeare.”

You smiled, “Shakespeare is just another language. And I already speak French, Arabic, Spanish, some Latin, a little Greek, and I’m learning enough Mandarin and Cantonese to get by on my next trip to China. So understanding Shakespeare from a linguistic point, I’ve already got covered. Especially since it was something I could read easily from a young age.”

JJ and Emily had stopped their conversation and turned to face you, eagerly listening in to what you have to say.

“But, from a theatrical point, his writing is so incredibly intricate. There are layers upon layers of text and context and subtext throughout all of his plays and sonnets, not to mention the fact that Shakespeare can be transformed, moved from one thing to another incredibly easily. You have to factor in that he was a misogynist, anti semitic, probably-most-definitely racist, among all of the other things, but adapting his works throughout time is something I have a special interest in, particularly his portrayal of woman and how that has been changed throughout productions over the years, mainly focusing in comedies and this strange need for him to have happy endings end in weddings.”

The jet was all staring at you, while a smirk slowly slid onto Derek’s face. “Looks like you got some competition here, Pretty Boy.”

You shrugged at Derek, and looked back at your phone. “I appreciate competition more than meaningless run-around conversations Derek. If you’re going to profile me, then just profile me. Or google me really. There’s no need to prod and pretend like you’re not trying to find out whether or not I’m single. If you wanted to ask me out, you should just ask me out.”

Jaws on the plane dropped. Derek tried to stutter out a response but was cut off by Emily, smirking over at him. “Besides consulting on murder cases, what do you actually do with a PhD in Shakespeare?”

You looked up at Emily and shrugged. “Whatever I really want to do. It’s just flexible enough that I can bullshit a job I want and take it, excluding present company. Usually I consult in England with the Globe Theatre and the Royal Shakespeare Company, I also guest lecture Shakespeare for younger audiences, like high schoolers and first years in college because I’m still young enough that I could be considered nerdy by a high schooler, but have college freshmen not be able to talk to me because I’m just good enough to get away with it.”

“What did you get your undergrad in?” Spencer spoke for the first time to you since you met him, you smiled a little bit.

“No one really asks me that.” You looked over at Spencer. “I have a bachelors in Directing with minors in English Literature, French, and Classics, and then I went on and got my Masters in Art History, since the visual aspect of the Arts is what interests me so much.”

Rossi nodded, “Makes sense considering I’ve seen your thesis–very impressive.”

“What did you write about?” JJ looked over at you.

“I–” You started but Rossi interrupted you. “Actually, if any of you had done any research, or were familiar with the Theatrical Arts, you would know that her thesis was an incredibly well-received production of Hamlet that delved into the female psyche and experience.”

Your jaw dropped slightly. “I-I didn’t think you, any of you would have even known that. Let alone had time to go and see my production?”

“Well, I have a fondness for the arts.”

You shook your head. “Or incredible timing.”

“Wha–timing?” JJ scoffed.

“Well,it’s— the program was in London, and it was only running for a few weeks…”

“Rossi when the hell did you go to London?” Derek finally spoke up, slightly captivated by you, but not in the way Reid was. You were something else, something completely new, which meant he could learn, and you were something he wanted to learn everything about.

“Well, right before I rejoined the BAU, I did a lecturing series over at Scotland Yard, and everyone had been discussing this production by the youngest female director to ever direct at the Bridge Theatre. I loved your use of, what were they, silks?”

You nodded, slightly embarrassed, mostly in awe.

“Ah yes, your usage of silks and the columns. I was on the floor, part of the cattle that was moved around. Very innovative use of that space, very impressive.”

“I’d have to agree.” Hotch spoke up, and you turned to look at him, eyes even wider than before. He smiled at the look on your face. “When we got this case, and we were requesting you as a consultant, I watched the recording. Very good work Y/n.”

“W-wow, um, thank you so much Age–Hotch. I really appreciate it–from the both of you.” You smiled at him and Rossi.

“I would love to hear all about this production, if you don’t mind me asking.” Emily slid across the aisle, taking the seat across from you, JJ doing the same, crowding Derek.

“Well, as Rossi said, it was about the female experience, and my Hamlet, was absolutely incredible, really took on the queer aspect of the role since Ophelia was still a woman, and–” You explained the concept, the design, the thought behind all of it. Every single person on the plane was simply obsessed with you by the time you were done, asking questions when they were curious. It confounded Spencer how he had never really paid attention to that section of the world of academia, and he was almost beating himself up over it, because he had missed you this whole time.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

“Eyes look your last, Arms take your—this is Romeo’s death monologue before he stabs himself. And this other one, is ‘Be buried quick with her, and so will I’, which is Hamlet trying to fight Laertes after he learns of Ophelia’s death…And..this is the one from this morning ” You turned to the sheriff who was just trying to make sense of the fact that you just were able to comprehend and relay Shakespearean information after reading the images of the victim's blood used on the walls, so calmly. “Sheriff?”

“Sorry, yes. Yes”

You frowned a bit, “They’re getting more violent. This is Brutus finding out Portia is dead–’with meditating that she must die once, I have the patience to endure it now…”

Reid looked over at you, “All of them are the men’s reactions to the death of their beloved.”

You nodded and sighed. “That means, uh…If he has a list,” You walked over to the white board and started writing the names of the fictional couples on it. “He still has Antony and Cleopatra…Macbeth and Lady Macbeth,,,,and….”

“And what?” The sheriff looked between you and Reid, as you turned a little white. “The um. The last couple dealing with murder/suicide of each other is, uh, Othello.”

Hotch gave you a look. “Explain.”

“What do you know about Othello?”

Hotch furrowed his brow.

You took his silence as permission to ramble. “It’s just a theory but, it’s regarded as not only one of the most tragic endings to lovers, even beyond the stupid miscommunications of Romeo and Juliet, because Othello kills his wife, believing she had cheated on him, suffocating her to death on their marriage bed, and then once he realizes he’s been tricked by Iago, he kills himself next to her body. It’s horrendous.”

“If I had to guess, He’s forcing the husbands to kill their wives, and then he kills them..” Spencer followed up, analyzing the pictures across the tables. “Based on the way they were positioned—he’s setting them up as a series of muder-suicides, just like Shakespeare.”

“Actually.” You picked up one of the pictures and handed it to Hotch. “I think it’s a woman.”

“You just stole Reid’s line.” Derek mused from the doorway, handing you a cup of coffee, which you gratefully accepted.

Reid huffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s not my line.”

“It is.” Hotch said dryly as he analyzed what you had just told him. “Y/n, can you please get me a list of the monologues left, so we can try and figure out who might be his next victims, so we can try and link the victims we do have.”

You nodded and sat down at your laptop. It was bugging you slightly at how much you enjoyed working on this case, working with the BAU, working with Doctor Reid.

This was the most action your PhD had seen since you had written it.

Part 2

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #Spencer reid x y/n angst #Dr Spencer reid x dr!reader

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kaylasficrecs · 10 months

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stupidly yours | miguel o'hara

you found your roommate stupidly annoying, from the girls he brought home, to the way he never cleans up. so why, all of a sudden, was he trying to get into your good graces? (this is a horrible summary, i didn’t really know how to explain this one.)

college roommate!miguel au. he could still be spider-man 2099 in this, but it doesn’t pertain to the plot of the fic.

note: this was technically a request, but i think i deleted it before i knew i was going to start posting fics. sorry anon! this one's for you! also i didn't use too much spanish except for a couple of words because i hardly know any of the language (i know waaayy more french).

tw: talks of Miguel’s toxic family, language (pls let me know if there are others)

wc: 2k

It’s not that you didn’t mind your roommate Miguel, but you thought about throttling him regularly.

Between the girls he brought home and his sometimes too-brutal of honesty, you’ve thought about packing your stuff and sleeping under a bridge (not that there were many bridges in Neuvea York) instead of dealing with O’Hara on a daily.

But instead, you got your shit together and just retaliated in other ways.

You stopped cleaning up his shit, because sometimes he was indeed a college guy, and you were tired of being that nice of a person to do his dishes, vacuum, dust, and clean his stuff. You stopped buying groceries and making meals for both of you. Whenever he brought a girl over to his room while you were in the apartment, you blasted the High School Musical soundtracks. Yes, all three of them. You had heard doors and slam and groans of frustration in lieu of this, but Miguel never argued with you about it.

Because that was the thing, he knew he was being a prick, but it didn’t ever seem to occur to him that it would affect the people in his life. Or that he should apologize for it.

The last part of your ‘Miguel must be put in his place’ plan was if he was ever extra rude to you during a conversation, you would just stop talking to him. At first, it annoyed the hell out of him, he couldn’t seem to figure out why you had simply stopped talking to him at the moment. He would get even more frustrated, his brown eyes seemly burning red. But he was smart (smarter than you probably) and put it all together pretty fast. So now when those moments happen, he would apologize softly. Which in turn, surprised you. You never thought you would hear a “sorry” muttered from his lips.

After enough apologies from O’Hara, you decided to let up on some of the parts of your plan. You stopped playing music loudly unless they were being extra loud during sex. You started cleaning up again because honestly, it was starting to bother you too. But what surprised you the most, was that Miguel met you halfway: brought over fewer girls, - and when he did, he kept it quiet - helped you with dishes, and started taking out the trash all of the time. Miguel even started cooking for the both of you. When both of you were home for dinner, you would sit on the floor in front of the small living room TV, and eat and watch a show together.

More time spent together meant getting to know each other better. You told him about your family, and he told you about his fucked up one. You discussed likes and dislikes, learning that he couldn’t stand trashy Mexican food from fast-food places; making you swear you would never bring home Taco Bell again.

You started to maybe feel things for him after you fell asleep on him during one of your dinner-and-a-movie nights. And it wasn't the fact that you fell asleep that made butterflies form in your gut, but that you woke up in your bed the following day. It had taken you a few minutes to piece it together through the drowsiness, but you realized he had carried you from the couch to your bed. You had been pouring yourself coffee when you came to that realization. Let’s just say most of the coffee didn’t go into the mug.

The next time you started to blush after thoughts of Miguel was when he came from work to drive you home in the rain. After living together for so long, you got used to each other schedules, even before you started spending all this time together. So when it was raining Wednesday night after coming from the library, you weren’t nervous about Miguel knowing where you were, more just shocked. The library on campus wasn’t too far from where you guys lived, so you always walked. But you would have at least brought an umbrella if you were expecting rain. The downpour opening the doors outside made you face the fact that you would likely catch a cold.

To the left of the doors though was Miguel's fancy sports car; rolling down a window, yelling at you to get in.

As you shut the door, setting your backpack on the floor, you asked, “How… Why are you here?”

“I got off work a little early. And seeing it rain, I decided picking you up on my way home was way easier than dealing with you with a cold for the next few days.”

You looked at him aghast. Of course, he was a bit of a jerk about it, but the actual gesture made you pause. A few months ago, you would have never thought he would do this. Even now, you had never known Miguel to be this generous to anyone.

You tried to hide your small smile as he started the drive home, but you don’t think it worked because you saw one on his face too.

But the worst part for you was that he kept on picking you up. Week after week, Miguel would text you after he was done with work and pick you up to take you home from the library on campus (even though it really wasn’t that far of a walk). Soon after, he started dropping you off on his way to work too.

Miguel kept up the niceties till Christmas: carrying all the groceries (now that you were back to paying for them since he cooked for you both now almost on a daily), letting you fall asleep on him, not bringing girls around, buying you coffees, opening doors, and letting you pick movies for your dinner nights.

He made it really hard not to fall for him.

Then Christmas time rolled around. You knew it was hard for everyone that didn’t have the best family relationships, especially in Miguel’s case where he didn’t really have anyone left that was a good human being. Finals must have also rubbed off on him, he was snappy and rude to you for the weeks leading up to the holiday. He didn’t cook and barely ate for himself.

You gave him a pass this time, mostly because you owed it to him for being so nice to you, but also because maybe you liked him. Just a little bit.

So you tried to cook, were patient with him, let him pick the movie, and hopefully cheered him up some days with one of your sarcastic jokes. You didn’t want to leave him alone. But come December 23rd, and you had to go home for the holidays.

You had your suitcase all packed for the coming week, ready to say goodbye to Miguel, when he hugged you. He hugged you. He was a massive person but felt so small wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your shoulder. It felt like an atonement for all the bad things he has said or done the past few days. You wrapped your arms around his neck in gratitude, threading a hand through his hair, whispering in his ear, “Please call me. If you need anything.”

When he finally let go, Miguel’s arms still slung loosely around your waist, you met his eyes, and reached up to smooth out the worry lines on his forehead. He leaned into your touch, so you pushed a little further and kissed his jaw, “I’ll be back after New Year’s.”

His hands tightened around you, eyes closed, and let out a shaky breath. You couldn’t think of what more to say in the moment and didn’t want to ruin the soft glow that surrounded you both. You slowly pulled away, taking quiet breaths as you left the apartment. You desperately tried to forget about him while you were home.

But that wasn’t going to happen, as Miguel showed up at your parents’ front door three days later. Thank goodness it was you who answered the knocking late one night, as your parents were getting ready for bed, your siblings nowhere near the door.

“Miguel, what-” you backtracked, “are you okay?”

“I was going to call bella. Prometo. But I just needed to see your eyes. Just for a few seconds.”

You didn’t know what to do with that. You bit your lip and twiddled your fingers, wanting to help Miguel, truly, but you were nervous about how your parents would react to you bringing a 6’ 6” man into the home randomly. And at night.

“I-”

He didn’t even let you get a word in, “I apologize bella, I should not have sprung upon you like this. I will just see you at the apartment in a few days.”

Before he could fully turn around, you grabbed his wrist, caressing his hand as you slotted your fingers in between. Yes, it would be hell to talk to your parents about Miguel staying, but you knew you didn’t want him to leave. “Wait just… come inside.” You pulled him in, staring up into his eyes as you reached around to close and lock the door, “Stay right here and let me… uhh… discuss with my parents, okay? But please, don’t leave, we’ll figure something out.” You gave him your best reassuring smile as you gently slid your hand from his, walking toward the back of the house where your parents were.

Though it was one of the most awkward conversations of your life, your parents agreed to let Miguel stay the night, they could all discuss details in the morning, and formally meet him when they were wide awake.

You were going to let Miguel sleep on your bed and you take the couch, as your house didn’t have a guest room, and he was too big for said couch, but he insisted you could share your full-sized bed, and you really didn’t want to upset him more by arguing with him at this time of night.

You asked no questions about why he showed up at your house, just got ready for bed. He already showed up in more relaxed clothes so he could just hop right into bed. He was sound asleep by the time you got done with your shower and face care routine. Slowly slipping under the covers, you studied his face; still seeing the grimace he always wore, even in his sleep. It made you worry and smile at the same time, you wished you could ease whatever pain had caused him to come to see you in such a state. Clearly needing comfort, you brushed some hair back from his face, “Sweet dreams, Miguel.”

Sometime during the night, you swore you felt that same softness again, his arms cradling you, his breath softly blowing your hair. But when you woke up, the side he slept on was only faintly warm, a sign that he had been gone for just only a little while; a note laid on your nightstand:

Thank you for everything last night. I just needed to escape to you from these past few days. I can explain everything when you come home. I didn’t want to wake you, you looked so peaceful I’m sorry I left. Tell your parents I’m sorry I couldn’t stay to meet them, but thank them for letting me stay in their home with their precious daughter. Happy New Year bella,

Miguel

If it weren’t for your stupid family you would rush to the apartment, or home, as Miguel had put it.

With those words, he had confirmed it, you were stupidly in love with him. His stupidly warm eyes, his stupidly thoughtful actions, stupid full lips, stupid words (stupidly round ass), and most of all, his stupidly wonderful soul. He could pretend to be a hardass, mean, rude man to everyone but you.

And January 2nd couldn’t come soon enough, for your stupid brain could only think about Miguel’s arms holding you tightly once again.

©kaylaficrecs 2023

thanks for reading <3

note: i think i might do a sequel to this one, let me know if you are interested!

#miguel o'hara x reader #spiderverse #atsv #mcu #imagine #flangst #comfort #fluff #fanfic #my writing #writing #request #fem!reader #reader insert #au #roommate!miguel

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alpaca-clouds · 7 months

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The Haitian Revolution

Yeah, okay. I guess to properly do the history thing, I also have to talk about the Haitian Revolution, don't I? Given that it is so important for the backstory of both Annette and Edouard.

Why didn't I do that so far? Because the Haitian Revolution is super hard to talk about because of the sources. A bit issue is that for a good part of it we only have French sources, that are not always the most... neutral. Because a lot of the rebelling slaves had never learned to write. As such, we actually do not know a lot about the side of the rebels until some Free Blacks started to take their side and lead the rebellion.

But I know a bit.

So, let me explain what I know.

Haiti (St. Domingue specifically, the French side of the island) was build exclusively on slave work. There were plantation there for indigo, sugar and coffee for the most part. And those plantation were very important for the French economy. And of course it was slaves working those plantations.

On the island there was a three class system (though if we are honest, it was a four class system).

Whites, who were free people and citizens of France. (Though in truth there was a difference between the plantation owning whites and those whites, who were not of the owning class.)

Free Black people. What differed in Haiti from the US for example is that it happened quite often that children of rape (white owners on Black slaves) would be freed and even adopted as children. While not considered citizens, they could own things, including their own plantations. (Yes, there were quite a few of these that owned slaves.)

Slaves, who outnumbered all other people on the island somewhere between seven to one and ten to one.

Now, most slaves did not survive the first three years after getting to the island. Many died in fact in their first year, because the working conditions were so harsh, they often did not receive food, were severely punished (through it receiving infections and such), and of course there was just the general issue of sicknesses.

There were people rebelling a long while and from what we know (again, there is so little in terms of sources) there were some escaped slaves living in the mountains and at times using guirella tactics. But there was not quite the move for a widespread rebellion starting...

That was until the French Revolution started. Once more the gentle reminder: The French Revolution took a long while to brew and originally was not a violent revolution, it only became violent in response to the violent oppression of it. Now, the people on St. Domingue were instructed not to talk about the Revolution, because some folks rightly assumed that it might give people ideas. Especially as among the Revolutionaries there was a big discussion about the abolition of slavery.

But in the end... Well, it did not work out and the freed slaves banded together for a proper uprising in 1791.

It is this uprising that we see in Nocturne. I have seen some people being very shocked in the human on human violence we see there, because folks are really whimpy when it comes to that. So, a little explanation: Originally (in the 1791) uprising the slave uprising was once again not very violent. Almost everyone who got killed was connected to immense abuses of slaves. The rebels tried to spare everyone who treated their slaves kindly. As such within that first uprising only 400 whites got killed, compared to 4000 Black people, as the French were much better armed.

Still, the rebels managed to capture part of the island.

It should be noted: This is probably around the time when Annette and Edouard left. They captured some plantation, and freed quite a few more slaves.

There would follow quite a bit of back and forth then. Especially between Haiti and the French Republic. And I would not be surprised if we were to see that in the coming season(s).

Mostly, because the Revolitionaries went back and forth between whether Free Black people could be citizens who got to vote or not. Making the Free Blacks, who originally were against the revolution, more and more take the side of the rebels.

And yes, it would get more and more violent. Because France and then later Britain, too (who did not agree with France on many things - but on saving slavery) threw thousands upon thousand of soldiers in fighting down the revolution with extreme violence, leading the Haitian Revolutionaries to answer this violence with their own violence.

But for the love of God, do not go there and be like: "Ugh, violence. Violence bad." Like, fuck that. I said that about Isaac before as well: Slaves freeing themselves have the right to use whatever violence necessary for that.

#castlevania #castlevania netflix #castlevania nocturne #haiti revolution #haiti #colonial history #slavery #castlevania annette #castlevania edouard

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arrowheadedbitch · 9 days

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Okay, we were talking about multilingual Shawn in the discord server and I just wanted to share it with all y'all

So, we decided Shawn should be fluent in (I know it's an unrealistic amount, let us live) 13 languages so he can say he knows a baker's dozen languages

Which leads to everyone else going "what the fuck does that mean"

There are some languages the we know he knows in canon and some that are more unclear, and then of course the rest of the languages are just complete fanon

We mostly chose languages we failed to learn lol

So, here's the list we chose.

English, Hebrew, Thai, Hindi, German, Argentinian Spanish, French, ASL, Welsh, Russian, Italian, Polish.

When he tries to speak two languages that are even semi similar, he ends up speaking a weird conglomeration of both by accident

"he tries to hold a conversation and ends up switching languages everytime he doesnt know a word" -J

But these are the languages he can speak, and just the fluent ones at that!

I think he has a completely separate list of languages he can read and it mostly does not coincide with the ones he can speak lmao

"Someone calls him stupid a little *too* rudely and he is not in a great mood today so he starts cussing them out in all the languages he can to prove a point" -me

He absolutely forgets words in English and can only remember it in pretty much any other language

But he uses it to further his "dumb" persona, no moment wasted

When he forgets the word in English, he'll just say whatever word he thinks is probably closest and let's someone else correct him

Then he goes "I've heard it both ways"

" It was the- um *fuck, I can only think of the word in French, but they don't know I know french!* uh, jigsaw!"

"You mean *hacksaw,* Shawn?"

"...I've heard it both ways."

"NO YOU HAVENT"

A foreigner comes up to Shawn asking what the word for something in English is but he *also* forgot the English word for it so he's just sitting there staring at it like *Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh*

He probably learned pineapple individually in every language he could get his hands on 💀

He probably learned curse words first lmao

He can say curse words in languages he doesn't even speak

Like "I can speak 13 languages, but I can say hello in 8 more and I can say fuck in 29"

His greatest accomplishment (in his eyes) is the acquiring of so many swears

"My goal is to be able to call my dad a bitch in every language known to man the day he dies"

#LetShawnSayFuck

Also we had to look it up and he wouldn't be on an FBI watch list for knowing 13 languages, but if the FBI ever found out he would NEVER know peace again (not that he leads that peaceful a life) because they would NEVER stop trying to recruit that man

He would be on a list labeled "PLEASE recrute this man, someone FOR THE LOVE OF GOD hire this guy, PLEASE" so not quite a watchlist but close enough

Now, to tag the people who were part of the convo! @j-snapdragon @thespiritssaidso and majesticrhyhorn but idk if they have a tumblr

#psych #psych tv #psych usa #🍍#shawn spencer #multilingual #genius #discord

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ninyard · 4 days

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Heyy! You said someone should ask you about Kevin under this post about Kevin's struggles from the nest of which we don't know enough... So I'm asking you about Kevin! Please tell us your Kevin thoughts! You always make very good points and I like reading your thoughts!!

cody my friend I am so glad you asked but you might regret it. i hope you're prepared from an unorganised huge convoluted MESS of a ramble

i've been thinking for a few days about this one like... what would a kevin POV look like? what is he hiding? how does he cope? WHO IS HE?

the kevin we ""know"" is a "coward", an insufferable bitch, an asshole and a hardass. other people's opinions and view of him makes up the entirety of our impression of who he is. but that's not who he is. that's just who we're supposed to believe he is.

kevin, born and bred to have this... borderline psychopathic lack of empathy, who can look his teammates in the eye after being told seth is dead or andrew is being committed and say, "what about the game?"

but when the raven's are switching districts; his sense of danger and fear is paralysing. he's three steps ahead trying to figure out how to please riko, how to keep himself safe, willing to put himself back into the centre of his abuse just to stop riko from finding him and killing him. he has to get blackout drunk to deal with any amount of riko. he's frozen with fear by being in the same room as him.

kevin knows where jean's mind and body goes to when hes panicking, knowing his worst place is right back in the nest being drowned by riko. kevin telling neil "do you know what he'll do to you?" and "he'll break you" when neil asks for his ticket. kevin's text to him before he goes into the nest, and staring at neil like he'd seen a ghost when neil returns after the nest (when he looks like the butcher). his comforting "i know what he's like" or "i know how he sees you, i know it means he did not hold back,".

kevin nervous breakdown panic attack day vs kevin smile for the cameras one track exy mind day

im so intrigued by him. how does he cope? his mother is dead, probably killed by the mafia family he was raised by. he grew up into a cult, he was only a child watching neil's father cut a man into pieces in front of him. how many other's had he seen?

how many other injuries cover his body, in places where the cameras can't see? how many rapes and assaults was he forced to watch in the nest? how many beatings was he forced to participate in? what did he have to say to jean in french that he didn't want riko to hear?

he needs someone with him all the time because of the nest. he's a "health freak" because of the nest. his sleep schedule, his anger, his anxiety.

did he say "what about the season?" re: andrew after drake because he doesn't care, or did he think "i've seen this happen too many times. and they've always kept playing,"? did he think "andrew is the strongest person i know. andrew is stronger than me. he would never let this destroy him," knowing that it has?

nobody has protected him in his life apart from the cameras and andrew.

he's scared. he doesn't know what love is supposed to look like.

he's only been a human for a year.

his scars are healing for the first time in his life and they're not being replaced by new ones, but every day he's afraid that that's going to get ripped out from underneath him. his entire life already got flipped upside down when he left the nest. of course exy is the only thing he "cares" about.

because it's the only thing that's been certain in his life, and even for those few weeks or months where he thought he would never play again, he trained and trained, and learned how to use his non-dominant hand because he can't lose this. he can't lose exy like he's lost everything else.

kevin has never had anything stable in his life except for violence and exy. now he has people he's supposed to care about, and he has to change his priorities. he has to learn how live a life that isn't fueled by self-preservation for the first time ever.

jean was only in the nest for five years; and look at him. look at what the nest has done to his social skills, his view of himself, his self esteem. look at what it's done to him, how he expects violence and contrition, coach and always waiting and waiting and waiting for the punishment to come.

kevin might not have had the same level of physical abuse that jean had, but he was there far longer. the ravens existed before him; their mindset and their abuse and their violence and their poison.

he's been drinking the raven poison since his childhood. the only difference between him and jean other than those things above is that kevin had more pressure to hide it, because he was half of the face of the ravens, half of the face of Exy; media trained or PR trained or a master at being a fraud and faking the way he speaks when he's being recorded.

kevin knows how to hide his abuse because he has always had to, and he's had quite a lot of practice at it.

kevin has only been a human for a year. kevin has only been kevin for a year.

so who is he? does he even know?

or is he just Kevin Day, Raven Fox starting striker, number two, six foot two, left handed right handed left handed, heavy racquet, stick size five? is that all he will ever see himself as?

anyways. or something like that. maybe he is just an insufferable bitch for no reason at all. who knows!

#just thinking about him okay....#something something baby girl #oh god im so sorry once again that this got so long LMAO #kevin day #aftg #tfc

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notroosterbradshaw · 2 years

Text

Uncle Brooster

A family party to celebrate Viper’s birthday brings the fluffiest of fluff with a side of 18+ NSFW slow smut for Rooster and our reader. 8.5k words.

part of: The Boyfriend Experience universe

Thank you @imjess-themess and @callsign-phoenix for beta’ing - I truly appreciate it! Was hard to do this re-write justice, so hopefully, you enjoy it. Please let me know what you think. Reblogs and comments are highly encouraged and give me life xx

You had been stuck in traffic for at least four hours to this point. You’d left LA a little later than you should have with a hangover a little worse than it should have been, the city made you pay more than deserved. Travelling on a Saturday was a dicey decision at best and you tapped the steering wheel with the beat of a song you’d heard at least three times on different stations. Silence it is, with the occasional beeping from other aggravated drivers in the same predicament.

It was well after mid-afternoon when you arrived at your grandparents but broke into a small grin when you saw that all too familiar blue Bronco parked a few houses down. He didn’t have to arrive without you, but he did, and it warmed your heart that Rooster felt comfortable enough to go to your family’s events stag even when you were running terribly late. Grabbing the champagne you’d picked up a few blocks earlier because even when it’s family, it’s still rude to turn up empty-handed, you popped out of the car as your nephew, Oscar, zoomed past you on his scooter.

“Don’t let Daddy catch me!” he exclaimed as Arron, your brother-in-law, raced around the side of the house after him. He smiled a friendly hello, roaring after Oscar. Ducking back towards the car to avoid becoming roadkill, you waited, protecting the chilled French beverages in each hand. Priorities on point always.

Wandering into the house, you were greeted by Nana with hugs and smiles. If you were anything like her, with her vivacity at 90, life would be good, you realised. “We didn’t think you’d get here. Bradley said you were stuck in traffic. Why did you go to LA?” she demanded.

“I had a birthday party for an old college friend. I probably should have driven back last night. At least I wouldn’t have been so late...” you grumbled, and would be in less of a puss after hours of containing your road rage. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re here now. Why didn’t Bradley go with you?” she frowned.

“To quote him, ‘I’ll die before I go to a club in LA’. ‘Please don’t make me go to a club in LA’. ‘I will do anything to get out of going to a club in LA’. So, he knocked out a wall in the bathroom instead. He said it was cathartic,” you shrugged. “Dude loves demolishing stuff, Nana. What can I say?”

“Could have been a nice getaway for you both,” she tried.

“You know he’s happy at home,” you reminded her. “That kinda scene is not for him.”

“Maybe you could learn something from him.”

“Probably, Nana,” you bit back your smile.

“There’s plenty of food outside. Go say happy birthday to your grandpa,” she ushered you out but not before she stopped you again, helping you smooth a crease on your sundress. “Can't half tell you’ve been in the car for hours,” she huffed. “This is beautiful, you look divine.”

It was Rooster’s favourite sundress and you figured the least you could do today and wear something easy on his eyes. It made you feel pretty sexy, knowing he liked it so much and only got brought out once before for a dinner date in your early dating days when he fell in love with it.

“Where’s Grandpa?”

She threw her hands in the air. “Holding court, where else?”

Holding court, with his friends and re-telling old war stories no less. Heading outside, you didn’t immediately spot Rooster but found Grandpa and made your way through your family and his lifelong co-workers and friends, stopping and being stopped as your past people before politely interrupting Grandpa to wish him a Happy Birthday.

“Here’s trouble,” Viper smiled, you were the apple of his eye. His darling granddaughter.

“Happy birthday, sorry I’m late,” you apologised.

“It’s okay,” he reassured you. “Rooster is here,” he clicked his tongue.

“Grandpa, one day you’ll have to accept he’s my partner,” you said gently, putting a hand over his heart. Viper sighed, patting your hand.

“I know, but not today,” the old man smiled wickedly. “I like keeping him on his toes.”

“I know,” you rolled your eyes as he chuckled, pushing you away tenderly to continue his story. Hearing ‘Vietnam’ and ‘Mitchell’ as you wandered through the masses of guests, someone gently checked you with their hip as you passed and Rooster grinned at you… holding your six-month-old niece, Ava, in his strong arms tenderly.

Well, this was a new development.

“Hi,” he said quietly, lowering to kiss you gently, you cupped his cheek. “I missed you, sweet girl.”

Shocked, you nodded at Ava. “Me too. I’m so sorry I’m late,” you said, extremely distracted by the sight before you. Rooster chewed his bottom lip, incredibly pleased with himself – he enjoyed rendering you speechless. It didn’t happen easily and it certainly didn’t happen often. “Stealing hearts and infants now?” you teased as he nodded, letting his grin rip wide across his tanned features, you know those warm honey-coloured eyes were dancing behind his mirrored aviators.

“Looks like it.”

“Are you okay? Do you need me to take her?” Something to distract me from looking at you with a baby, perhaps? He shook his head as Ava held his long, slender index finger in her soft hand and he watched her keenly, a little taken with her himself. She was a true beauty. Annie had told him Ava was your dead ringer as a baby, and he could almost believe it.

“I’m good,” he promised. “I’d love a beer though.”

“I think I can do that,” you told him as he smiled and turned his attention back to Ava, cooing in his deep rasp that almost made you want to cry.

Heading to the cooler, you greeted some of Grandpa’s former Top Gun students and Rooster’s superiors as you grabbed Rooster a beer and picked up the champagne bottle for yourself as Annie sidled over to you to say hello.

“Didn’t think you were ever gonna get here. How are those ovaries?” she smiled, nodding over her shoulder to Rooster who was still gently rocking a dozing Ava in his arms. “Give that man a baby, and give that man a baby now.”

“Oh, my God,” you sighed. “Make yourself useful,” you shoved Rooster’s beer and a champagne flute into her hands, popping the bottle and pouring yourself a generous glassful. “You want?”

“No, Ava will need to be fed shortly,” she replied as you took the drinks back.

“Was this your ploy?” you asked, looking back at Rooster.

Christ, was his chest broader today? Was it arms day? He did mention he went for a run on the phone earlier. He usually broke it up and used some of the free equipment near the beach if he felt particularly energetic. He looked so good. You mean, he always did. Sunglasses now in his sun-kissed curls, casual in a crisp white linen shirt untucked over a pair of khaki shorts and barefoot in the plush grass. He was not remotely interested in fashion, but just one of those people with that body that everything fit him perfectly. You groaned that you had to wait to love on him properly, without the gaze of your family and his higher-ups even if it wasn’t a workday. You were already imagining stripping him of that beautifully offensive shirt -

“What, to see Rooster with a baby?” she joked as you gave her your attention again. Fantasizing about Bradley Bradshaw would not bode well for you at a family birthday party. Nope. You could be patient. You waited this long for him, what was another few hours? “No, I had to help Mom in the kitchen since you decided to show your face at the last minute, and he was the closest, reasonably responsible adult in the vicinity to hand her to.”

“And where was your husband during all this?” you asked, sipping your champagne.

She pointed to Arron and Oscar on the trampoline.

“I see.”

“Yeah,” she said, unamused. “I have three kids at home.”

“Hey, he’s your kid’s best friend,” you reminded her. “And that’s fucking priceless. We can’t say the same thing with our old man. Enjoy it now because one day, Oscar will be just like you and it should be terrifying for all of us to go through your teenage years again.”

Reminiscing her wild adolescent days momentarily, Annie shuddered. “If that kid is half the asshole I was, I don’t know how I’ll cope,” she laughed incredulously.

“How did Rooster react with Ava?”

Annie cackled. “Unfortunately, no ejector seats nearby for Rooster. Looked like I’d asked him to punch Grandpa.”

“Yikes,” you laughed, loudly.

“I showed him how to not drop her, but he figured it out pretty quick.”

“You just dumped her in his arms, didn’t you?”

“Threw him completely in the deep end,” she confirmed, still laughing. “He’s had her for nearly an hour though and I’ve offered numerous times to take her. He even knocked Mom back.”

“Oh, wow.”

“It’s been nice to eat and talk for once instead of being the Mom.”

“You are the Mom,” you reminded her, lightly kicking her shin. “But I know you’re so much more than that too.”

She flashed a shy smile. “Thank you.”

As nice as the familial love was, Rooster still had your undivided attention. You sipped the cool amber gold and felt yourself melt. “He looks so good,” you said to her quietly.

“We can talk about this, if you want,” Annie joked, not missing the longing in your voice. “He looks very good. A bit of a natural, to be honest. You have the dreamiest look on your face,” she teased.

“You can see what I’m looking at, right?”

“Yeah, I can see,” she poked your arm. “Your old bedroom is just up there, I’m sure Rooster would love to see where you spent your formative years.”

“Rooster didn’t see me like that when we were teenagers.”

“No, I suppose not. But if you asked him to go up there with you with all these people here, I guarantee you, he would be dragging you up there.”

“I don’t think I need to christen Grandma’s favourite duvet today with his superiors here…”

“Bullshit,” she sang. Sadly, Annie was very good at planting very bad ideas in your head, and the little bunny bounced around freely. “If I know Rooster, the thought of getting away with something like that would be very, very appealing to him.”

“I watched him do 164 push-ups without stopping the other day,” you changed the subject.

“Why would he do that?”

You rolled your eyes. “For the sake of it. ‘Peak physical perfection’ was what he told me. He was gloating, I might add.”

"I’d believe it,” Annie shrugged.

“He’s got an endurance like I’ve never seen,” you sipped your champagne to cure your dry throat.

“You’ve heard it your whole life. They’re the ‘1 per cent’,” she said in air quotes.

“Just ask them,” you said. “I miss him, I’m going to rescue him,” you decided with a hum of satisfaction but wouldn’t give Annie the pleasure of knowing just how true the ‘1 per cent’ really was.

“I’ll come to get her soon but enjoy it for now.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you rolled your eyes with a grin that told her you’d do just that and wandered back to him. Gently caressing his side, you offered him the bottle, keen to see his next move. Pouting in thought, he adjusted his posture around Ava’s snug little body and grinned as he released a jazz hand, admitting success.

“Thank you, baby,” he took an eager gulp.

“Do you want me to hold her?” you asked as he shook his head.

He shook his head. “Naw, I got it,” he replied, swaying on the balls of his feet to subdue Ava like he’d been doing it his whole life. “I’ve held footballs bigger than this little love.”

Little love? Your ice-cold heart-melting at his endearments, you managed, “You look very comfortable, Bradshaw.”

He flushed a little. “What, you think I could do this?” he smiled shyly.

“I think you’d be a beautiful father,” you divulged. “Not that I… think of that.”

He giggled quietly. “Of course not.”

It was kind of true though – you enjoyed this incredibly selfish phase you were in with Rooster. You rarely left the house when he was home. Just the two of you in your own bubble. You didn’t have to be together, he could be found with a sledgehammer, knocking down walls or strumming a guitar in his makeshift music room, and you could be reading or lesson planning. You were just content to be together, doing your own thing.

“I think of that,” he shrugged easily. “I mean, not right now. But eventually. I want to have some kids.”

Of course you do, you sighed to yourself, sipping your drink. You felt an unfamiliar fluttering in your tummy. You just assumed it was your biological clock introducing itself violently. Fuck, unfair.

“You… don’t?” he raised an eyebrow, a little surprised.

“I dunno…” you admitted. “I hadn’t really thought about it. I guess so, I’m not getting any younger.”

The lopsided grin on his face told you he was satisfied with your answer and the taunting could stop… for now. “We could do this one day,” he shrugged.

You were gone for 12 hours, and it had been pure torture. He went for a few drinks with his squad and could not keep interested if he tried (much to the humour of Hangman’s taunts of him being so pussy-whipped that he forgot how to have fun – Rooster agreed. He’d much rather be getting laid every night with a woman as sexy and eager as you than have to look like a desperate asshole like he did… Hangman quit his schtick pretty quick). He’d forgotten how to sleep alone, not curled around you (and you’d called at least a dozen times in a drunken stupor wishing he was there, wishing you were home, wishing you were fucking each other instead going back to the hotel without him. It was hilarious, and in Rooster’s mind, heart-warming you were missing him as much as he was missing you).

“You okay?” you frowned, he’d drifted off a minute.

Blinking as he came to, he nodded. “Thinking about your endless calls last night,” he recovered with a smug grin that you rolled your eyes at.

“You’re such a dick.”

He gasped, pretending to cover Ava’s little ears. “Not around the children!”

“Said the naval aviator.”

“We are all upstanding, respectable members of the US military, ma’am,” he recited.

“Are you shittin’ me right now?” you looked around and could only insinuate the backyard was an absolute pissing contest, testosterone was choking the place. How Phoenix and Halo put up with the shit from these guys only spoke volumes of their strength and resilience.

Rooster let out a hearty laugh. “Okay, okay. But we’re not all a bunch of dickbags,” he protested to Ava. “Are we?” he frowned, suddenly a little concerned.

Pettily, you replied and started counting on your fingers, “Bob,” you paused and frowned. “Just sweet Bob.”

“Sweet Bob?” Rooster hooted. “You must be outta your mind because that guy is as wicked as the rest of us. You’re just confused by the glasses, aloofness – ”

“Aloofness,” you mocked.

“He ain’t reserved, he ain’t shy. He plays the game better than all of us combined. Baby, that motherfucker is foolin’ you,” he said, seriously. “If you think for one second he isn’t sewing his seed in whatever port we’re in, Jesus, baby, you’ve fallen for it too.”

You groaned, now Rooster was just reaching.

“Trust me, Bob is single for a reason.”

“Nope, refuse to believe it,” you turned away from him as he grabbed your wrist and whispered by far the crudest thing you’d heard of all the antics from any of Rooster’s friends. Rooster smiled as he watched your facade change as he went into some very explicit details.

“Oh, my word.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t know this,” he giggled again, kissing your temple. “My innocent little baby.”

“Yeah, definitely something Natasha and I should have talked about.”

“She has her own shame,” he kept paying out.

You looked at each other and said in unison, “Bagman.”

“Well, you’ve broken my heart, Roost. I’ll never be able to look at that sly bastard the same again,” it kind of crushed you. Not-so-sweet Bob. You were more than intrigued though and would ask Rooster again sometime. He wasn’t entirely forthcoming about his friends (or his) antics when they were abroad. There was a code they quietly shared and you probably didn’t want to know.

“Don’t get me wrong, when he’s on form, he’s amazing – we all took notes. It’s not a front, but what you don’t see, babydoll, would make your head spin. Credit where it’s due, he will not behave like the wild man he is around the ladies. He’s very respectful of Phoenix, Halo, and you,” he gently cupped your chin and chuckled. “Lucky for you that you have such an honourable, roguishly handsome, intelligent, Adonis as me, huh?”

“I’m supposed to pay you those compliments.”

“On you for forgetting I have an ego,” he replied thoughtfully.

“Ooh, you are on one this afternoon,” you murmured.

He smiled, slugging his beer. He leaned down to kiss you deeply, no mind to anyone in your vicinity. “I love you and you know I’m settled. You’re the only woman that turns my head.”

“Keep talking,” you instructed.

He nodded you closer and he freed a hand to tuck you into his arms, trying not to squish Ava. “I am so in love with you, I don’t care if anyone thinks I’m whipped. Because I am. You’re the love of my life and those arseholes can fuck around all they like. You are the only woman I want. Who I fantasize to, first and last thing on my mind every day even when you’re next to me, who gets me over the line when I’m away. I am so infatuated with you.”

“Better,” you blustered as he kissed you again, a little softer this time.

“I love you,” he said against your lips. You whispered the same back as you snuggled into him, lightly tracing the soft skin on Ava’s little hand. Your sister sure made adorable babies. Casting his gaze over you, he sighed wistfully. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Oh, this was completely purposeful,” you smiled as he cursed quietly. You moved across the space between you to hold him as inconspicuous as you could with his superiors, and of course, Viper, lurking. He leaned down to kiss you again. “With that blue lingerie you like.”

You knew Rooster thoroughly enjoyed being teased and that was solely what the dress was. You motioned him closer again and he bent to hear right into his ear, a glutton for punishment. “What?” his tone guttural.

“Free reign. You can do whatever you want to me,” you gently kissed his jaw before he stood to his full height again, exhaling deeply, a look of disdain (or discomfort) crossing his features. “I’m very looking forward to getting you alone tonight,” you said kindly.

“That dress comes off the second we cross the threshold,” he hissed at you. “So goddamn sexy.”

“Watch yourself, Bradshaw,” Grandpa stalked past as you both gave each other wide berths.

“Yessir,” he replied, meekly, hoping the old man’s hearing was going and he didn’t hear him talk so disrespectfully. His shoulders slumped as, thank God, Viper didn’t stop to reprimand him. “One day, he’s gonna love me,” he muttered, hardly self-assured. Sure, Rooster was in on the joke, but he couldn’t wait for the day Viper was his mentor again… and didn’t only see him as the guy fucking his granddaughter.

“Not today, he’s not,” you snickered, sipping your champagne and swishing the skirt of your dress a little, loving the movement of it – Rooster had very good reason to find this his favourite. Your silhouette in it drove him to a level of wild he’d never imagined.

“You are a fuckin’ menace.”

“I am, I agree but you wouldn’t change a damn thing.”

Of course, he wouldn’t. He lived for you smart mouth. “Jury’s still out on current behaviour,” he mumbled, giving you a playful side-eye as Ava started to whinge. Panic crossed Rooster’s face, with the little one peaceful to now.

You smiled. “It’s okay, she’s probably just hot. Stop cradling her like a football and see if she’s comfier down your chest,” you offered, you mimed what you meant. He was a little spooked the ease of just holding the infant got a little harder. Watching his struggle was a sight, but you wouldn’t tease him, he was by far trying his best. “Can I help?”

“Yes, please!” he squeaked.

“Come here,” you rested your glass on a nearby table and opened your arms, happily taking Ava from him. Rooster knew his strength, and it certainly wasn’t a lot to hold Ava, but he was not used to the posture of it all and shook his strong arms out willingly.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “She looks much happier now.”

“She’s probably hungry too. You did great,” you told him, rocking gently, hoping to calm her again.

While you focused on Ava, cooing and whispering sweet words, Rooster sipped his beer, watching you intently. You were so beautiful, but holding your niece was stirring up some shit in his already-convoluted brain. He’d been thinking about a lot of things lately. His career was on the rise, he’d officially transferred and moved into his parents' old beach house, leaving Virginia behind. When he was home, you spent every night together; where there was one, the other wasn’t usually far, and everyone could see how happy you were together. He could see it too. He had changed, he had mellowed and he wasn’t remotely miserable about it.

He loved making a life with you.

It was all moving in one direction and while he was excited for it all with you, he could admit it was scary because he’d resolved himself probably not having kids and probably not getting married after his mother raised him without Goose and how it affected her every day. Leaving nothing behind always seemed like the easier option if things...

But now the thought of his last name being passed along didn’t seem so farfetched. The notion kind of enthralled him, and he found himself thinking about it – thinking about Carole’s engagement ring hidden in the safe he’d recently purchased with his will, Goose’s dog tags, passport and that kind of stuff with some various items of yours also. You just wanted your passport somewhere you’d remember it as well as some legal docs.

“Uncle Brooster!” you heard Oscar before you saw him.

“Uncle Brooster?” you frowned.

“I may or may not have picked up a new nickname today that has stuck pretty quick,” Rooster explained, blushing a little. “Oscar started to say Uncle Bradley, but I guess, also Rooster?” he shrugged with a faint grin. Uncle Brooster didn’t seem to hate it, you realised as Oscar ran at him, Rooster catching him in his arms, sitting your nephew on his hip.

“You said you'd play!” he accused, thrusting his new mitt on Rooster’s face.

“Hi, Oscar,” you smiled.

“Uncle Brooster said he’d play when you got here,” he whined.

“Missed you too, bud,” you replied curtly.

“All right, pal,” Rooster nodded. “I promised,” he held his hand out for the ball, putting Oscar back on the grass, as he winked at you and lowered his sunnies over his eyes again. “Duty calls.”

“Is this where you tell me you coulda made it in the pros if the skies didn’t call to you again?” you asked innocently enough. You’d heard that story so many times over the years. Rooster loved baseball. An unhealthy amount. If the Phillies (you had no idea why because he had no connection to the city in any way) were playing, he'd lose a day yelling and cheering at the TV. You dreaded the thought when football season started.

“I could have,” he sighed. “I was scouted.”

“By Uncle Sam?” you teased.

“Oscar, lemme show you that pitch, buddy,” he rolled his eyes at you, wandering away after him. “Your Aunty is a real meanie.”

“Yeah, but if you ask her real nice, she will always let you get ice cream, even when Mommy won’t,” Oscar replied as you giggled. Rooster might have been King of the Kids today, but Oscar still knew where his bread was buttered.

“Yeah, you’ll always be ‘Bad Influence Aunty’,” Annie smiled, sidling up to you and offering her hands to Ava. You shook your head, enjoying the cuddles.

“I’m not a bad influence, I just say yes to everything you say no to when I’m sitting,” you grinned, as she motioned you over to the big tree you’d sit under as kids and play endlessly. The sun was starting to get to you anyway and you sat down on the cool grass with Ava eagerly.

“How’d Rooster go?”

“Said he could see us having babies one day,” you blurted out.

She smiled. “That’s exciting!”

You shrugged. “I like that it’s just us at the moment. He’s away so much that I don’t want to share him,” you played with Ava’s little toes. “Is that wrong?”

She sighed. “That’s really a conversation you need to have with him. Because I know you two will be amazing parents, but if you don’t want to do it, you have to make sure you’re on the same page. It could be a dealbreaker if you both feel strongly about it.”

It felt like a boob punch, but Annie was right. Argh, you hated talking. Even to Rooster who, in reality, he was the easiest person to approach. He’d talk to you about anything, even before you two got together. It wasn’t that he was a few years older, because his maturity was not his always strong suit but had an opinion on everything and he listened well. He wasn’t scared to give you other perspectives on matters or pander to you if he knew you really needed it.

Fuck, he really was breathtaking, you watched him pass under arm to Oscar who missed it but Rooster kept encouraging.

Knowing you were trying not to get too upset, Annie added, “But you two want to have as much time together is wonderful. Things have a habit of falling into place like this sometimes. It’s still fairly new to both of you. You haven’t been a couple for a super long time, you don’t live together – ”

“He wants to, he’s said it a few times now,” you admitted as Ava started whinging and you attempted to appease her.

“What are you waiting for?” Annie asked.

“Every day he’s away, I dread the knock at the door – ”

“Don’t be like that. Rooster is very good at what he does, he will always come back to you.”

“His dad didn’t.”

“And our dad left on his own volition. Real life happens.”

You nodded, solemnly. “I know.”

“You have to open yourself to that man loving you. Because he does. So much so and he’s not afraid to tell anyone but if you keep him at arm’s length, he won’t have to fight for you because there is a queue of women who would kill to be in your shoes. He will be the love of your life, it’s just up to you to accept that.”

Oof, Annie always had a brutal way to deliver her message but you knew she was right.

Ava refused to calm in your arms and Annie held her arms out, preparing herself to feed her daughter. You gave Annie a moment and palmed Ava over, giving your attention to Rooster, baseball forgotten and jumping on the trampoline with Oscar, having the fucking time of his life. “You are gonna regret that, babe,” you said quietly. 30-year-olds were not made for trampolines, no matter how many hours you’d spent on one as a child. You’d fallen for it many times. The aching muscles the following days were never worth it.

Oscar showed Rooster a small tumble, close to the mat. Not surprisingly, he congratulated your nephew and asked him to step back, bouncing way too high for the small trampoline and flipping himself in the air, giggling like mad.

“Good chance Oscar will be suffering a broken arm or leg sometime soon with Rooster’s influence. He will be double-bounced at some point today,” you told Annie as she sighed and nodded.

Sitting outside as the guests had started to leave, you relaxed back against Rooster’s chest, sitting between his legs as he rested his chin against your shoulder, kissing and nuzzling occasionally. It had cooled off a little, the evening breeze coming in off the water and Rooster’s body heat kept you snuggly warm. He always seemed to burn just a little warmer than most.

“Goodnight, Rooster. I expect I’ll see you you on the tarmac at 0600,” Cyclone said above you and you felt Rooster straighten up. “At ease, Bradshaw,” Cyclone instructed, casually.

“Yessir,” Rooster replied, hating being caught unawares. “0600, sir.”

“Goodnight,” Cyclone said to you. “Hope to see you again soon.”

“Goodnight,” you said after him. “I think that’s the last of them,” you reported quietly as Rooster sighed.

“Not one day of peace,” he muttered.

“You knew what you were getting into with my family.”

“I know,” he said against your skin.

“It’s a lot, isn’t it?”

“It’s a lot,” he agreed. “Wouldn’t change it for anything. This is your life. Our lives have always been so ingrained in all this. It’s what you get when you date the ex-Admiral’s darling granddaughter,” you felt him smile against your skin and smiled a little too.

You nodded, humming in agreement. “Did you ever think this would happen, Roost?”

Chuckling, he replied, “Probably, yeah. When we finally got together, I realised work and play were a lot more muddled, but it’s okay. I mean, the Navy feels like it’s all I know these days. It helps that you get it too. Sometimes I wish you didn’t know the ins and outs of what I do because I know it scares you a lot.”

Sighing, you stayed quiet.

“But know, I am always going to come home to you, okay?”

You nodded, pushing further back into his arms and he tightened his grip around you.

“You’re quiet,” he noted.

“I’m just listening,” you admitted. There wasn’t much more you could add, anyway. You could listen to him talk about anything and everything. His voice was a lullaby to you.

“Strange you’re not arguing with me,” he teased, giggling into your neck. You reached back to wrap an arm around his neck, your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. He sighed, he loved when you played with his hair. He was a simple man, but he fucking loved being touched. He was never starved, but no one could touch him the way you did.

“Take me home?”

“Of course. Can I just keep you here in my arms for a few more minutes?” he asked softly. God, he was just perfect. He always knew the right things to say and do to make you feel safe and protected and after your evening, he knew you just needed him to keep you close. “Don’t wanna let you go yet.”

Turning back to face him, you kissed him. “I love you.”

Even in the dark evening, Rooster’s cheeks flushed. “I know, sweet girl. I know.”

Home later that evening, you’d left your car at your grandparents, Rooster driving his Bronco back for his early start the next morning. Your drinks had caught up with you and he trotted around the car to wrap his arms around you, leading you to the front stoop of his home. Noting you didn’t exactly fall into his arms, he stopped and kissed from your earlobe to your pulse. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you replied.

Warning sirens wailed in his head as he dared say, “If the answer to my next question is ‘fine’, I’ll going to be really concerned,” he teased, trying to play cool in his concern.

“Then best you don’t ask,” you told him as he hummed into your skin and held you tightly, before unlocking the front door and letting you both in.

“C’mon. What’s up, baby? Make me regret asking…” he joked, hustling you in his arms and a mess of limbs as he walked you to the kitchen. He dumped his sunglasses, keys and phone and hoisted you onto the kitchen bench. Fuck, you loved when he showed his strength and manhandled you a little bit. He pushed up the skirt of your dress and boldly parted your legs to stand between. “Have I said or done something?” he asked, pretty sure he hadn’t put his foot in somehow since leaving your grandparent's home.

“My God, no,” you held his handsome face in your hands, tenderly. God, you loved his face and his eyes warmed under your gaze, relieved. “Just a big day. I’m tired, I drank too much champagne, I guess. Never a wise decision in the sun,” you said as his large, strong palms massaged your quads.

“No, probably not,” he admitted. “But for a sec, let’s pretend I can’t see right through you and I can’t tell something is eating at you…” he tried as you sighed and rested your forehead on his strong shoulder.

“Can you know me worse?”

“Tried. Only made me want to know you better.”

“Then say less nice things.”

“Tried that too. You prefer me gruff and nasty,” he chuckled quietly, playing with the ends of your hair.

Looking up to smile, you gently kissed him. “Today was a lot.”

“Why? Me holding Ava? Being king of the kids? Get you all hot and bothered?” he goaded you.

“Some of that. But also got a lot of, ‘so, are you and Bradley thinking about settling down?’ and ‘gee, he’s such a fine young man, better start thinking about weddings and babies’. And my favourite of the day from Aunt Maggie, ‘you are only getting older, dear. Bradley will want a baby eventually. If you don’t start thinking about it soon, you may be too old and miss the boat’.”

Rooster’s jaw hung. “You’re fuckin’ with me.”

“Nope,” you popped the P.

“Wow, okay. That’s a lot,” he said, a little taken aback and cradled you in his arms.

“Yeah, was a lot,” you replied, meekly, blinking back some tears while he couldn’t see your face. “What kills me the most is we’re doing so good right now.”

“So good,” he agreed.

“We’re having fun, we spend more or less every available minute together.”

“Yep.”

“Why does it have to be muddled with weddings and babies?”

He sighed softly, pulling back to look at you. “I dunno, baby. It doesn’t have to be.”

“You said it yourself though, you want kids.”

“I’m guided by you. You want a baby in ten years, fuck, that’s ten years I get to be completely selfish and have you to myself. You decide you want a baby now, well, whip your undies off and let’s get to it. We can start practising right now.”

“I’m on the pill, Roost,” you reminded him.

“Then stop it,” he shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me because you lead, and I will willingly follow. Always. If you decide you don’t want a baby, well… that’s okay too,” he said the last part quietly but you both knew he was lying.

“Bradley?”

He pursed his lips, looking at you. He knew what you were going to ask, and replied, “I want to have it all with you. But if you are happy as we are, I will be okay with that too.”

“Bradley…”

“I won’t lie to you. I want us to have a family,” he admitted.

“And what if I can’t give that to you?”

“You’re already my family, so how can I lose?” he shrugged.

Breathing, you kissed him deeply. You were so in love with him, he always knew how to reassure you and this time, you truly believed him because he was all you needed too. “You really think about it?” you asked shyly. As undecided as you were… you couldn’t help but ask.

He nodded, a simple smile gracing his features and a shrug. “Baby… you’ve always been an Aunty. Seeing you with children isn’t new to me. I’ve always known you’d be a beautiful mother. The only difference is it would be our sweet baby.”

Sighing, you couldn’t believe this man was yours, you wanted to kiss his face off. “Knock it off,” you rolled your eyes as he laughed, quietly.

“And you work with kids all day. You’ve got the patience of a saint. Not with me,” he said meekly as you giggled. True, Rooster Bradshaw would get under your skin in about three seconds some days. “But with those kids in the pool, that’s commendable. You’re giving them skills they will use their entire lives.”

“Bradley…” you warned.

“You want a baby, yeah, I’d make a baby with you. The practice would be a lot of fun,” he rattled off. “Kid would be fuckin’ adorable, because… I mean, look at us,” he raised an eyebrow, gauging your response and you bit your lip, trying to remain passive. “And if you decide that you don’t want to either, that’s okay too.”

“I – ” you started and shut your mouth again so quickly that it worried him.

“You?” he frowned.

“No, forget it. Didn’t say anything.”

“I have magnificent hearing.”

“You shouldn’t for someone who is in a jet every day.”

“True, I’m on a one-way ticket to tinnitus. But you were going to say something, and I want to hear it.”

“It’s so dumb,” you dropped your gaze.

Cupping your chin, he sighed. “Nothing from your mouth is dumb.”

“Okay, you asked for it… you’re away so much.”

“Correct. Not a question though.”

“What if I change my mind and you’re away for six months or something?”

“Well, I hope those days are behind me but respectfully?”

“Of course.”

“You go off that pill and I will come home so ready to make babies with you that you will be sick of the time I am inside you,” he kissed that spot on your jaw that drove you absolutely wild.

It was so hot, you think you died a little. “Impossible.”

He laughed quietly. Shaking his head, amazed. “Do you feel a bit better? I don’t want you down. It’s your body and I know you could hesitate because I might not be home as much as you need me to be.”

“We’ve got time?”

“Our whole lives,” he promised. You finally smiled, looking into his warm hazel eyes, as you cupped his chin, your thumb dragging across his marred skin, never wanting to change its perfection. “You good?”

“I feel so much better,” you admitted, softer now. More mellow from his touch. You hated the power he had over you to just snap his fingers and allow you just relinquish pain and distress. Every day he was teaching you, and it was amazing how easily he could get you talking.

“You feel really good,” Rooster admitted, quietly, his tone changed, his strong palms massaging. “Look really good too, like you need to be fucked really good.”

“I do,” you agreed as he sighed and hitched you into his arms. “Last 24 hours was pure torture.”

“I know, I know,” he kissed you softly, that kiss that drove you senseless. Just that kind of kiss that he stole before he would allow you to fall into it and your lips would chase him, a taunt he thoroughly enjoyed. “You’re here now. Bed?” he nuzzled your pulse, heady on your perfume. You giggled quietly, lacing your fingers into his curls.

“Bed.”

He smiled into your skin, his kiss leading to your lips and he kissed you properly for the first time today. You were so fucking addictive to him, his body on high alert. He knew what you needed and was not afraid to give it to you. His slick tongue tickled your lip as you gratefully fought back, missing his taste. You barely noticed he was carrying you back to his bedroom before you were lowered to the bed and his hefty weight was on you – right where you needed it to be. You wrapped your arms and legs around him, not letting him move as he huffed a laugh against your lips. “All right, all right, but you got me locked in pretty tight… how am I supposed to get you naked?”

Pondering, he was right. “Okay,” you released him and he backed up, offering you his hand as he pulled you to him, your back to him, nuzzling the base of your neck. “While I love this on,” he sighed. “The time has come, old friend,” he said to the dress as you bit back your smile and his nimble fingers made light work of the zip. He brushed the spaghetti straps off your shoulders, letting the dress float to the floor, leaving you in your strapless bra and matching underwear you’d promised earlier. He hummed, gently turning to him. “Shit..”

Pinching his cheek, you shook your head. “I know you like this one,” you taunted.

“I like this one, yes,” he swallowed thickly and your body was in flames. “Never used to give half a shit about getting a woman naked… but you make that effort to just give me a little more than I thought I needed,” his fingers traced your rib cage. “Makes me want to keep you in it just a moment longer. As well as the heels,” he tutted. “I don’t know how you wear them all day, but your legs could not look more amazing than if they were wrapped around my head.”

“Bradley,” resting your head on his chest, you were burning up under his gaze. He had the ability to make you feel like the most self-assured person on the planet under his touch. He cleared his throat to tease as you raised your eyes again.

“Don’t you dare get shy on me,” he bit back his smile, starting on the buttons of this shirt. You gently pushed your fingers away as he took the hint, his arms falling to your hips, massaging the soft skin and God, there was nothing you enjoyed more than helping Bradley Bradshaw undress. At the last button, you pushed the lovely shirt away and let it pool at his feet. He used his feet to kick off his sneakers. Popping the button and the fly on his shorts, you let the material add to the pile around his ankles before he eased you back towards the bed.

He crawled up the bed to you, his knees between your begging body. There was absolutely no need to rush. He placed a gentle palm behind your knee and dragged it to the ankle, unbuckling the heel and then repeating the action again on the other foot.

“Slow?”

You nodded as his lips crashed against yours, his arms caging your body impossibly close to him, wrapping your hands above your head with his, and again, your legs encased his hips, forcing his weight heavy on you. “I love you,” you told him as he breathed hard and said the same back, your name rolling off his tongue, his lips barely leaving yours as you grew a little more desperate for his body and he rutted his hips into yours, feeling a little more impatient than what you’d promised each other.

You rolled your head to kiss his well-worked biceps. Sitting you up, he made light work of your bra and his boxers, pinning you below him as your lips met again for a bruising crush of lips, tongues and teeth. You could kiss him all day, even with that moustache. It was so irrevocably Rooster that you probably couldn’t remember what he looked like without it anymore. You’d probably miss its tickle if he ever decided to shave it off. Other parts of your body would miss it too.

He hitched your legs wide as he slipped his middle finger under the seam of the blue lace underwear he left you in, the pad of his finger eagerly testing the waters as he tutted. “You’re so warm and wet, babygirl.”

“Have been all day.”

“I’ll bet,” he sighed. “Tell me if you need me and I will always take care of you,” he rasped, his warm tongue rolling around a straining nipple, lips enclosing and sucking purposefully. He bit you, a hiss escaping your lips as your fingers laced into his curls.

“You are so sexy – ” you tried as he slipped in a finger and his thumb started drawing circles on your clit. Your breath caught and a sigh of utter bliss escaped. His fingers were magical. “I need to touch you,” you said, reaching for him and he rolled your bodies to face each other, your warm palm reaching out for his hard cock. Your delicate fingers swirled the pre-cum around his head and he shuddered, chewing his bottom lip as you tugged at him, helping him find a rhythm.

“Good girl,” he cooed gently, his tongue sneaking between his lips as he breathed long and deep, wanting to feel your hands on him as much as you did him. “Good girl.”

You craned to kiss him, rough, the opposite of your bodies.

“I need you,” you told him, trying hard to compose yourself and not cum all over his fingers. While his fingers worked wonders, you just needed to feel as one. He breathed an ‘okay, baby’, dragging the flimsy material down your hips, moving to his knees to collect them over your ankle and tossing them over his shoulder. Sidling behind you, his strong arms dragging you tight against him, your back to his chest, your ass to cock. So warm and slick, he sunk into you slowly, it was almost torturous as you pushed your hips back, taking him all in, your arm reaching back and curling around his hip.

A guttural growl from behind you as his fingers crept over your thigh, dragging it over his hip and opening you to him as he lazily drove into you, his palm gripping the tender flesh to keep you close. He laced his other hand in your hair, giving it a gentle tug, to kiss your shoulder blade as you mewled into him. “So good,” you manage, the slow pull of his cock and the sharp snap of his hips rendering you lifeless in response.

“Touch yourself,” he begged. “Please?”

With that voice, he could make you willingly participate in a multitude of sins, but this was too easy. He lived for watching you bring yourself pleasure, and he breathed raggedly as he tried to keep his eyes on your body, but lost to the sheer pleasure as your walls started to tighten around him. Your fingers toyed with your clit as you drew haphazard shapes, writing his name, knowing exactly what you wanted as he cursed, begging for your orgasm, his hips drawing into you, slow and delicious. You were far too wet and warm for him to last, and you were far too close as his cock hit you in the most desired of places.

“Come, baby. You are so close,” he struggled to say as his hips sped up. He was so close, only holding on to feel your walls pulsate around his cock, milking him, and dragging his orgasm out too. He gave your hip a wild smack and his teeth sunk into your shoulder.

“Holy shit, Bradley,” you moaned as his hips stuttered into yours, his orgasm triggered.

“Jesus,” his resolve crumbled as he fucked into you, hard and fast, coming thick and hot inside you as his hips continued to stutter of their own volition. “Shit,” he breathed, you both in a tangle of limbs and quietly panting. Rooster massaged your side and over the spot-on your ass he groped so roughly. “You okay?” he kissed across your shoulder and to your bicep, a litany of goose-pimples bursting on your overstimulated skin, the last sparks of your orgasm firing as he breathed deeply, trying to control himself still feeling the last jolts of your electricity.

“I’m okay,” you sighed, blissed, and found his hand resting on your hip, twisting your fingers in his.

“Love you. I’m so fucking in love with you, sweetheart,” he whispered, urgent.

“I love you too,” you told him, and he kissed you and kissed you and kissed you until you begged to stop to go to the bathroom.

“Sure you’re okay?” he asked, watching you unsteadily, your legs rendering you a little like Bambi learning to walk. He chewed his bottom lip, highly amused. Mission accomplished if your legs were shaking, but he’d lift his game up if you were still able to walk, period.

Keeping your thighs together, he sat up to meet you at the end of the bed, eyes dancing mischievously as you caught his chin in your palm crudely.

“I’m amazing, I love you. Gear up, big boy. Your night is just getting started,” you warned, as he smiled willingly, the pleasantries over. A tinge of red crept to his ears as he watched you cross the room precariously and close the door after you. He rubbed his face and collapsed back on the bed, blissfully. He heard you all right, gear up, big boy.

masterlist.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

#notroosterbradshaw #rooster #rooster fluff #rooster smut #rooster imagine #rooster fanfic #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x oc #rooster x female reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #top gun fanfiction

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yelenassafeplace · 1 year

Text

Childhood sweethearts

Again sorry for my bad English, I’m French and still have a lot to learn. Anyway please do not translate or re upload this oneshot. Thank you.

pairing: aged up!Neteyam x human/Na'vi fem!reader

Author's note: In this AU: reader replace Spider (she's a scientist’s daughter and not Quarritch's), she’s a human but went through the consciousness transfer ritual like Jake at the age of 13, Neteyam is 5 years older than Lo’ak, the humans never came back to Pandora and the Sully's never left the forest to ask for Uturu from the reef people.

Warnings: baby fever, breeding kink, p in v, oral (f! receiving), fingering, clit stimulation, fingering, Neteyam talks to your pussy??, childhood best friends, best friends to lovers, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, Neteyam talks you through it, belly bulge, size kink if you squint, tell me if I should add more warnings.

Na’vi vocabulary used: Omaticayan (a Na’vi clan), Eywa (the guiding force and deity for Pandora), Toruk Makto (a Na'vi individual who successfully manages to ride a great leonopteryx), the last shadow (a great leonopteryx), Olo’eyktan (a clan leader), skxawng (a moron), Ikran (a mountain banshee), Talioang (a sturmbeest)

You were many things for the Omaticayan clan and the sully family. Looking past your humanity (maybe it was because Eywa had sent them a sign) they saw you as a friend, a sister, a daughter, someone they could rely on and trust, a kind and warm soul.

You were always eager to learn new things and give a hand to people when they needed help. You were even considered as a potential woman for the many boys looking forward to the day they would get the opportunity to get a mate.

But it was useless. Your heart was already taken.

By someone who probably didn’t even feel the same way about you, but still. You had the biggest crush on the eldest son of Toruk Makto, the rider of the last shadow and the Olo’eyktan of the clan.

His mother somehow found out, or maybe she always knew, and, to your great surprise, she was pretty supportive of this (non-existent) relationship.

Neytiri treated you as her own child, always there to protect you and even teaching you how to use a bow as well as crafting your very own one when you were big enough to hold it by yourself.

You didn’t know why she was so kind to you when you were a simple human, the kind that had hurt and killed her people almost eighteen years ago. Her sister, her father, her brother and even her Ikran, had died from the hands of the sky people.

Yet, she was showing nothing but love and affection towards you.

You were approximately 3 years old when they took you in. Neteyam was already born and around the same age as you, only a few months older.

You basically grew up together, being best friends since your youngest age. You had learned to talk, walk, run, annoy Jake, swim and eat on your own together.

The bond between you only got stronger as the years went by, the two of you never left each other’s sides, Neteyam often following you like a shadow and vice versa.

And then Lo’ak was born. This child was so annoying yet so adorable. He was always causing trouble to Neteyam and you, putting you in uncomfortable positions in front of the father figure of the family.

He calmed down for a while when Kiri was born but eventually got his attitude and sass right back after 3-4weeks. And it became even worse as he grew older.

This skxawng was always arguing with Kiri over the smallest and stupidest things, Jake almost ripping his braids right off when the two off them began to hiss, or more like scream in Lo’ak’s case.

But Kiri, unlike this hyperactive of Lo’ak, was literally the calmest kid you ever met. She barely ever cried, always looking at everything around her with wide and curiosity-filled eyes.

You liked to spend time with her. Whether it was at the lab when she needed to see Grace, her biological mother by whatever miracle, or in the forest when she wanted to take a break from her family and spend some time surrounded by nature, the great work of Eywa.

You plaided your case to Neytiri and Jake to transfer your spirit into a Na’vi body through the eye of Eywa for years.

And they finally accepted when you turned thirteen. So you went through the ritual. All the Omaticayans were more than happy to, officially, fully welcome you into the clan.

You worked really hard and got your very own Ikran, named Nrraya, at the age of 15. Your first hunt and first Talioang kill happened only a few months later.

You remember the feast they prepared for you as if it happened yesterday. Everyone was smiling and dancing and eating…You were really the happiest in the world.

But then Tuk came into the world and you were even happier. She was the cutest baby ever. She learned well and quickly, she was affectionate (and she still is even now) and so, so, so loving.

You were extra protective of her, often holding her on your hip as you walked through the forest or your village, always making sure that she was well-fed and hydrated, that she slept enough and kept her entertained as best as you could when you were free and she wasn’t sound asleep.

She loved the nightly routine you had when Jake and Neytiri asked you to babysit her while they were going out to spend some time alone. And you loved it too.

You tucked her in her makeshift hammock, telling her made up stories until her head lolled from side to side and her eyes squeezed shut, a little snore confirming her sleeping state.

And today was one of those nights.

What you didn’t know is that someone was watching you. Yellow eyes scanning your form and following you as you did all of these cute and kind things. And it was Neteyam’s of all Na’vi’s.

He couldn’t help but get hard at the sight of you getting so motherly with Tuk. It made him want…No. it made him crave and need to give you a child to mother. Your very own child. A child with him. A child that you would bear within those wide hips and waist of yours.

He has to close his eyes and breathe deeply to stop himself from jumping on you and fuck you right there and then.

Instead, he waits patiently for you outside the family’s home and think a few minutes before he decides that tonight is the night he will confess what he feels for you. He already knows that you feel the same way towards him. You’re not really good at hiding things. And he can’t hold himself back any longer anyway.

You come out of the house and smile brightly at him.

"I hope I haven’t kept you waiting for too long."

He shakes his head, smiling back at you.

"No, you didn’t. Are you ready?”

You nod enthusiastically as he takes your hand in his, the little touch enough to make you shiver.

"Mhmh…We can go now."

You follow him through the forest, your tail happily swaying from side to side as you listen to him talk about his day.

Your smile falters a little when he tells you how his father had been so hard on him yet again but you quickly brighten the mood by telling him about your day too. And he listens to your rambling with a wide smile playing across his lips, glad to hear that at least one of you had fun.

You finally reach your favorite spot in the forest and lay on the mossy floor to look at the stars. Neteyam does the same and scoots closer to you.

"It’s beautiful…”

Your best friend turns his head to look at you, swallowing thickly as he watches the reflection of the sky and stars dance into your wide, pretty and almost pitch black eyes in the dark night.

"Not as beautiful as you."

Your eyes widen even more if possible, a light blush tainting your plumped cheeks with a bright purple color as you crunch your nose.

"Ew, that’s so cheesy, Neteyam ! Stop saying things like that…"

He sits and pulls you to him so you sit beside him too, tilting your head up by your chin with his free hand as he keeps your hand in his other one.

"I’m dead serious, y/n. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met in the entirety of our clan. And I’m sure it would be the same beyond the village and the forest and even on earth. I could bet my life on it."

You blink up at him, heart thumping hard in your chest like it was trying to get out of your body.

"N-Neteyam…What are you saying?"

He smiles fondly at you, thumb rubbing your cheek soothingly.

"You know what I’m saying. Nga yawne lu oer, y/n."

A single tear slides down your cheek, your lips trembling as you try to keep your emotions down.

Neteyam frowns and wipes your tear away before he plants a quick, yet firm, kiss to your plush lips to try to ease the pout forming on them.

"Oh, don’t cry baby…"

You sniffle and he helps you settling on his lap, your arms locking around his neck and legs crossing behind his lower back.

"I’m sorry, I don’t want to ruin this moment. I promise I won’t cry anymore."

Neteyam chuckles softly and rubs little circles on the small of your back.

"You’re not ruining anything, princess. Don’t worry."

He sighs contently as you press yourself even closer to him and kisses the side of your face.

"I love you so much Nete’…So, so much."

"And I love you even more."

You get your head out of the crook of his neck and take his face in your hands before kissing him lovingly.

Neteyam kiss you back, groping your ass to make you gasp so he can swiftly slide his tongue in your mouth.

You feel butterflies in your tummy when Neteyam caresses your tongue with his, moaning softly against his lips as you instinctively press your clothed pussy down on his swelling cock.

He makes quick work of discarding your chest piece and get rid of your loincloth, leaving you completely bare, before he lays you down and sit back on his heels to take a look at your body.

You can practically see his cock twitch under his thin loincloth at the sight.

"Fuck…You’re so pretty."

His tail wraps around your thigh and stays nestled there as he leans over you to kiss you again, settling comfortably between your open legs. You moan at the feeling of his hard on rubbing against your pussy when he starts to move his hips slowly, desperate for any kind of friction.

"A-All of this…just f’me."

You grind up against him in hope that it will somehow make him touch you faster.

"’Teyam…please…"

He cups one of your tits and massages it before pinching your nipple, the pain shooting a spark straight down to your core.

"Please what, y/n? What do you want, precious girl? I need to hear it."

You start blabbering, cheeks pink, almost purple, and all your body burning from desire for him as he latches on one of your nipples and suck it harshly.

"F-Fuck me ! I need…I need to feel you inside of me, please Neteyam…stop this teasing. I’ve been waiting for you too long already."

He bites on the column of your throat, earning a little hiss from you, and leaves a trail of kisses and wet patches from his tongue before he gives you a few hickies.

"Ah, you’re right, my love. I’ve kept you waiting for long enough. I should take care of my needy baby now, shouldn’t I?”

Neteyam kisses down your body. Your neck, chest, stomach, just above your pubic bone, your knees, your calves, your ankles and your inner thighs…He doesn’t forget anything.

He looks at you one last time before he gives the sweetest kiss to your puffy clit.

"There she is..My little princess. You felt neglected while I was kissing mommy, mh?"

At first, you’re a little confused as why he’s saying that to you. And then you realize that…He’s not talking to you. He’s talking to your pussy.

You shouldn’t be turned on by this. But you are. You can’t help but get even wetter as you listen to him talk to your pussy, acting as if you weren’t there at all.

"Oh, did you get wetter? You like that, yeah? What a sweet girl…Daddy’s going to take good care of you, don’t worry."

He practically starts to devour you, two fingers easily sliding in and out of your fluttering hole as he laps up some of your arousal before going back to lick and suck your sensitive clit.

You can hear him growl and mutter something as your walls clamp hard around his fingers when he hits your sensitive spot.

"It’s here, isn’t it? I found your weak spot…That’s good news."

Having a hard time trying to keep your voice down, a few moans and huffs passing the barrier of your lips without your consent, you squeeze your eyes shut in hope that it will help you in any way. But it doesn’t.

"Such pretty sounds…don’t be shy, let me hear you, love."

You don’t really know if he’s talking to you or your cunt but you don’t care anymore. So you just let go and moan to your heart’s content.

"That’s it, let everyone hear how good I make you feel. Let them know who you belong to."

And just like that he brings you over the edge, lips tightly wrapped around your little bud before he releases it with a pop to lick you through your orgasm.

A loud squeal escapes you when two of his fingers replace his tongue, quickly rubbing your pussy from side to side.

Your juices gush out of your hole as Neteyam keeps abusing it and finger your pussy even harder. Your body jerk up, trying to get away from this overwhelming pleasure, and that’s his cue to slip his fingers out and let you recover from your orgasm.

"Didn’t know you were the squirting type."

You roll your eyes and lay flat, still out of breath but feeling the energy come back in you as soon as you flip him off.

"Fuck off, skxawng."

He laughs and takes you in his arms, kissing your forehead and your nose and your lips.

"Yelp. I deserved that."

You smile as he nuzzles his nose against your cheek and wrap your arms around him to pull him in a tight hug.

"Oof- are you trying to kill me already? We’re not even mated yet !"

"Yeah, but you’re annoying, so I might just…Strangle you…While I still can !"

Neteyam pretends to struggle in your grasp before you finally release him.

"Damn you’re strong."

He lays back down and pulls you on top of him so you don’t stay on the ground too long.

"Yeah, I know."

"And humble too."

"Ahah. Very funny."

You plant a kiss on his lips and the mood shifts to a more heated one again. Neteyam hold you by the neck and pulls you back to his lips when you pull back. It’s all tongue and teeth and spit, and you love it.

Your body melts against his as he reaches between you to push his loincloth to the side and holds his hard cock to guide it to your pussy. He slides it through your folds to get it wet and shudders at your warmth.

He moans out as you slowly sink on his dick, hands on his chest for more steadiness. His hips snaps up into yours to get his cock fully seated inside of you and his eyes roll back.

"S-So fucking tight…Aah…"

Your hand come to rest on the little bulge his cock forms in your lower stomach, biting your lip as you start to bounce up and down his shaft.

"You’re so deep inside, Neteyam…Look."

He opens his eyes again and lock them on your stomach, almost cumming on the spot as he sees the bulge his cock forms in your tummy before it disappears again as he helps you up ‘till only his tip stays inside and force you down right back so he’s balls deep in your pussy.

Your pornographic moans only get louder when Neteyam hold your hips still and thrust up into you, thumb rubbing tight circles around your clit.

"Gonna cum for me again? Mh? Y’re going to cum on my cock and -fuck- you’re gonna soak it, yeah?"

You nod frantically, breath coming out as loud huffs when he fucks you harder.

"Yes, yes ! Neteyam…I’m so close."

"I got you, baby. I’m gonna get you there, just relax."

And he keeps his promise. He makes you cum so hard that your entire body shakes and twitch so much that you slump on him. But he doesn’t stop thrusting, chasing his own high as your pussy holds a tight grip around him.

"G-Good girl. That was good, mh? You liked t-that? Gonna like it even more when I’m gonna cum inside of you and give you a baby…"

You can’t hold back the moan that bubbles in your chest at his words. He chuckles lowly at that before he becomes a moaning mess as he starts to cum.

"Oh…Yeah, keep clenching around me like that. Fuck, fuck, fuck…Oh, I’m cumming…I’m cumming !"

He unloads inside of you, thick ropes of cum coating your gummy walls white. Neteyam fuck his cum into you before pulling out slowly when it becomes too much and starts to physically hurt.

He keeps you close to him, his hand coming to push your hair away from the damp skin of your forehead.

"Are you okay, baby?"

You only make a "uhuh" sound, incapable of moving or say anything for now.

"Oh my pretty lady can’t even move uh? Did I fuck you so good you don’t know how to talk anymore?"

Yeah, now he was being way too cocky. You straighten up quickly and ignore your blurry vision and dizziness before you hit his chest playfully.

"Shut up or I’ll cut your dick off."

Neteyam spank your ass and laugh when you hiss at him.

"You wouldn’t. You like my cock too much to do that. But I’ll still shut up just in case…”

You spend the rest of the night cuddling and kissing, coming back to your house only after a quick shower, the sun already rising behind the two of you as you walked hand in hand.

#neteyam sully #neteyam sully x you #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully x y/n #neteyam smut #neteyam #avatar 2 #atwow imagines #atwow neteyam #avatar the way of water #smut thoughts #smut imagine #+18 only #yelenasdirtythoughts #yelenassafeplace

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alwaysonf1 · 3 months

Text

wtf just happened?

Pairing: Charles LeClerc x Hamilton!OC

Genre: Slice of Life; Fluff

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning: Mild "slander" of French speakers. Language. (Mild)

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: N/A

“Iman.”

Nothing.

“Iman.”

More silence.

“Iman Marie!”

Ignoring the shouting was her plan, but that was when it was from just outside her room. That last one was right in her ear, making her jump and then without looking, she uses the pillow next to her to hit Logan in the head.

The man truly took annoying little brother to heart. And just like any sister she wanted to kill him. Not kill him dead, but just enough so he would leave her alone. Even in the midst of her angst she didn’t want the idiot dead, she would sadly miss him very much.

“Ow!” he says.

“You should have left me alone,” she mumbles into her other pillow.

“No, we have plans. And you moping around like a dork isn’t going to change that. I don’t even know why since you wanted this.”

Iman pushes herself up a little and turns her head at a speed that should hurt her neck. Her eyes narrow on her friend who looks annoyed and amused as he rubs his face. Her accuracy clearly worked in her favor. However, she can’t find it in herself to be happy about that.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” she whines.

“Because you’re being dramatic.” Logan rolls his eyes as he says it and moves out of range for her to throw anything at him.

Not that she plans to throw anything else at him. Iman can’t find the energy to attack him for what he said. Partly because she knows it’s true, even if she does glare at him for it.

There are few times in life she’s felt more like a big baby than now. She’s capable of handling her emotions. Lewis always made it clear that she was allowed and should always accept how she’s feeling because those feelings aren’t wrong, but that she has to temper her reactions. To be fair most of that had to do with her wanting to fight a racist or anyone who had some reach of a comment to say about him, but it wasn’t the only place he ever applied that kind of thing. He always said he knows the influence he’d have on her life and he wanted to ensure that she didn’t have to learn some of the hard parts like he did. Which she appreciated.

But goodness it didn’t help at the moment.

Charles Leclerc kissed her a little less than twenty-four hours ago. Something she’d hope would happen sooner rather than later. Something she was going to try to make happen herself because she was tired of playing whatever game it was that meant she withheld her feelings for the man. And because everyone who knew her was annoying and pestering her.

Now she’s finally experienced it, and her reaction was to play it cool in his face and then put her phone on Do Not Disturb so he couldn’t reach her to talk about it. Something she knows has happened because he’s reached out to Lewis, Logan, Alex and Lily to make sure she’s okay.

More than anything she wishes the urge to vomit stemmed from thinking that Charles wants to tell her that he regrets the kiss. That it meant nothing and that he wants to continue being friends. Or not friends at all. But she doesn’t have that voice in her head. Instead, the one she’s dealing with focuses on what comes next. There are obvious answers, but something about it is stressing her out.

Something she’s wanted for a while now lacks the joy it deserves and it’s driving her up a wall.

She’s acting like Charles. She’s not an overthinker and yet that fucking Monégasque has her in shambles. How dare a French speaking man do this to her at all.

A pillow slams into her face and her head whips back and then forward at a speed that could probably induce whiplash. Logan is sitting on her bed with a pillow in his hands. It’s angled back like he plans to do it again, but then he sets it down.

“What the fuck, Logan?” she shouts.

“Mate, you were zoning out.”

“So, you hit me with a pillow?”

“You hit me first!”

Her hand twitches and moves toward another pillow and he reassumes the position prepared to attack her too.

“I didn’t believe you.”

“I told you.”

The voices draw her attention from her stare down with Logan to her doorway. In it stands Lewis and Sebastian. Iman is familiar with the man and feels comfortable around him, but his presence confuses her so much that the urge to throttle Logan leaves her.

“Hi Seb,” both her and Logan say.

“Hello. Did we walk into a war?” he asks.

“No.”

Lewis rolls his eyes. “Then what did we walk into?”

“Her being stupid.”

Both pillows fly without a word and it’s a flurry of them hitting each other and failing to dodge. It only lasts for what’s probably seconds and both of them have made it off the bed and onto the floor with

“Okay, separate kids.”

Like creepy twins they go from glaring at each other to Lewis and again he rolls his eyes at them. Iman and Logan put the man through a lot, so he’s used to their brand of nonsense.

Sebastian is barely concealing a laugh as he watches all this and Iman fights not to turn her irritation on him. She’d laugh too if she was watching this mess.

Lewis claps his hands and like well trained dogs they release their pillows and sit on her bed. She’s still glaring at her brother, but she’s toned it down.

“You stop hitting her with pillows. You know how she gets.” He points to Logan.

“She started it. I was just defen…” A single look from Lewis shuts him up and Logan huffs, but nods.

“And you.” As he says it all three sets of eyes are intently on me. “Pull it together, yeah. The first few hours were fine, but this is a bit much. I won’t tell you how to feel, but you’re happy about it, he’s happy about it. Stop being a dunce and do something about it. Man is blowing up my phone.”

“Mine too,” Seb chimes in.

“You texted him first,” Lewis says.

A grin that Iman considers evil, because it’s only ever present when he’s up to no good, spreads across Sebastian's face. The man likes to be in the know and he’s fond of his former teammate, so his self-insertion isn’t surprising in the least.

However, as quickly as that look of mischief comes, it goes. Sebastian is still smiling, but there’s a seriousness to his demeanor that makes Iman a little uneasy.

“Don’t hurt his feelings or yours.”

Then they’re both gone.

Iman is unsure of what to do or say, so she just sits there. A million thoughts bubble inside of her head, but she blocks them all out. Lingering on even one of them could lead her back to where she was minutes ago, and Lewis is right. He’s often right.

Logan exhales. “You know I just want you happy, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So be happy. You’ve been pining after the guy for a while now. He’s finally made it clear he’s ready and available. That he feels something for you, even if you don’t fully know what that is yet. Don’t play around and overthink it. You’ll kick yourself for it later. Hell, I know you’re doing it now.”

She nods but says nothing. Still doesn’t know what to say, but she does lean her head down on Logan’s shoulder. The gesture is one of the usual casual affection, but also a silent thank you. He knew what to say and she knew that before he’d even shown up at her place, thus her ignoring his pestering to begin with. Being stubborn is on brand for her.

He pats her head and then abruptly he stands up, leaving her barely any time to adjust herself so she doesn’t fall over. The glare is back on her face, but Logan just smiles as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“Now get up and get ready. We’re already running late and you’re the one who begged me to come try that new place with you.”

She rolls her eyes, but nods.

Logan heads toward the door, but then turns around. He tosses something at her, and she flinches a little, but is calmed by her phone landing on her legs.

“Oh, and text him back.”

Then he too is gone. Probably to raid the fridge.

Iman’s gaze doesn’t leave the phone in her lap even as a retort is on the tip of her tongue. She doesn’t hate when Logan’s right, however when she’s in a mood it can be annoying. And the addition of him, Lewis, and Sebastian Vettel, all calling her out takes it to another level.

They’re right and she wants to stop feeling like such a mess over it. All these emotions are overwhelming, and the real problem is she can’t isolate any of them so they can be tackled one by one. Hell, she can’t even get them down to pairs.

What is obvious to her is that she’s happy and hopes that a step has been taken in the right direction. That this will hopefully lead to her no longer having to deal with getting her hopes up just for another girl to show up on his arm. That phrasing makes it seem like it’s constant and he’s never been single for a second between girlfriends, but even when there are months between them it always feels like it was nothing more than a day for her.

A soft scream escapes her lips, and she falls back onto the bed. She’s overthinking again and it’s close to sending her into a spiral. The last thing she needs is that, especially when he’s part of the summer vacation group. This putting a damper on things is out of the question and she refuses to be awkward like some little kid dealing with their crush.

With a sigh she sits up, tosses the phone on the bed, and gets up. Without a second glance she walks into her bathroom and closes the door.

####

Charles stares at his phone like he’s done for the past few hours. He tried to tell himself that Iman drank quite a bit the night before so she might still be recovering. Or that she wants a chill day and is away from her phone, something he’s witnessed first-hand. Hell, he’s even thrown in that maybe she’s just busy despite knowing that Williams refuses to call in their people on their days off without an emergency and both drivers have told him there hasn’t been one and that she’s fine.

Which means she’s intentionally not responding to him. And he is trying so hard not to seem desperate that the possibility of her regretting kissing him is all he can think about. Something he’s reassured himself that isn’t true. Something his brothers and friends have told him is a dumb idea to even entertain. But he can’t help but wonder if he fucked up when she won’t respond to him.

As he sits there, he tries to tell himself he needs to get ready for the early dinner he promised a group of his friends that he’d attend. But he can’t break his eyes away. Which he thinks is fucking ridiculous. That he is yet again being ridiculous.

So, he closes his eyes and takes a breath. Then without opening them he gets up from the couch and turns away from it and his phone. His eyes open and he takes a step. His phone makes a high-pitched sound and vibrates like crazy.

Like a man possessed he turns around and snatches it up. It’s unlocked before he can truly think to do it and then his eyes are glued to the message, his body sitting without him telling it to.

Air leaves his lungs and Charles melts into his couch. His entire body relaxes, and he feels the corners of his lips inch upward, something they hadn’t done since he realized Iman was ignoring his attempts to reach out.

His friends would never let him hear the end of it if he ever admitted how much that simple greeting did for him.

#charles leclerc x black reader #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x black!reader #formula one x black reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x black!reader #formula one x reader #charles leclerc fan fiction #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 fan fiction #f1 imagine #formula one x oc #formula 1 x oc #charles leclerc x oc

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sgiandubh · 4 months

Text

Geotagging, take 2

Thanks to @2truthsandalie5's lynx eye (thank you - I am a legit Instagram imbecile, but I can whip some mean French clafoutis in less than 20 minutes), we can now confidently determine a couple of more details.

I have no problems correcting my posts and even amending them when proven shaky: this is not a competition, but I believe integrity is paramount.

So, here goes:

It was a private dinner, as I first supposed. Unclear if on behalf of Ora Ito himself or just hosted by him for what probably is (at least part of) The Amateur cast, which would explain why both C and Malek attended. I should think he hosted it: not his birthday, and the Modulor is his pet project.

If you want to try and stretch out the connections game, know that Ora Ito is the son of the French designer Pascal Morabito (hence the name). Morabito is rather famous (as far as I know, and I do know a fair bit) for interior designs (furniture) & perfumes, but still...

You can probably see all the people in attendance: all you have to do is check out the clip on the event organizer's Insta account.

It happened on Saturday, January 13. Not on the 15th (stroke me as odd, but went with it because I shall probably never learn). Again, I have no problem admitting I was wrong as, for me, it does not change anything. Posted as a latergram on Monday, hence the mistake even Malek's fandom made, with less drama than in here. Happier people, I presume.

Still no McSideburns. Je suis désolée (nope, not really, buttercup!).

I will never understand these people's passion for empty, derelict looking concrete hallways that require an Aspirin and a hot toddy immediately after returning home. But that's just me. I am sure they had a great time and, more importantly, the timing still fits.

This page has nothing to hide. Never did. Never will. [edit] Oh, and: S left for Palma Gran Canaria on the 14th.

Makes sense.

#fandom #shitshow

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signiorbenedickofpadua · 8 months

Text

Anachronistic Greetings

by SigniorBenedickofPadua — Read on AO3

Pairing: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling Rating: Mature Words: 2900 Tags: Sleep Deprivation, Accidental Kissing, Professor Hob Gadling, First Kiss, Getting Together, Dream Sex, Middle English. Counter Sex, or counter-foreplay to be precise, Accidental Confession, Daydreaming, Feelings Revealed by Daydreaming

Summary:

Hob is sleep deprived. That's fine, it happens, he's used to it. It's just that when you're 600-something the centuries can start to blend together a bit when you're tired. Enough so, apparently, that when Dream pops by for a visit, Hob's muddled brain decides to greet him with a "Salve!" and a kiss on the lips like it's still 1389 and he's greeting any old friend and not the cosmic being he's secretly in love with in the year of our Lord 2023. It's a good thing Dream is understanding. Very understanding.

Hob stared down at the kitchen table he was sitting at, resting his head in his hands as he absently followed the pattern of the wood grain with unseeing eyes, mind occupied with thoughts of absolutely nothing at all. He could have been sitting there for anything between seconds and hours for all he knew when he suddenly blinked and realised that he had entered the kitchen to get something to eat. Probably. He was fairly sure he hadn’t eaten yet.

He shook his head, forcing himself to snap out of it and come back to the then and there. He had just gotten home from work, and he was going to have dinner. Right. Yes. Only problem was he hadn’t quite got to that point before spacing out and forgetting what he was doing due to the fact that he hadn’t slept a wink last night. He’d had to stay up late marking essays, after which his brain had just refused to shut off and stop thinking about Middle English syntax for long enough for him to fall asleep.

Actually, come to think of it, that was two nights ago. Had he been awake all of last night too? He thought he might have been, having been too tired to fall asleep because the human body was bloody stupid like that. He attributed the fact that he hadn’t simply collapsed in front of his students while lecturing to his experience marching for days without proper rest back when he was constantly fighting for or against one Plantagenet king or another. But just because his body had kept going through the day didn’t mean his brain had followed at the same pace.

He felt a little bad for his students, to be honest, because he doubted his lectures had been up to his usual standards. At one point, if he remembered correctly, he had slipped into Middle French for several sentences before realising it, and, while talking about how the printing press had contributed to standardising the vocabulary of the English language, he was pretty sure he had used the pronouns “I” and “we” a few too many times to be entirely advisable for someone who was keen on keeping their immortality a secret.

He blinked again. Food. Right. He’d gotten distracted thinking about why he was distracted in the first place. Maybe he should just give up and go straight to bed, to catch up. Or maybe he’d better stay awake and go to bed at a normal time so as not to fuck up his sleep schedule even more by going to sleep at five in the afternoon. Hm. Dinner first. Then decisions.

He had just gotten up from his chair with the intention of opening the fridge to see what his options were when he heard a knock on his front door. Seconds later, he heard it opening. Hob instinctively reached for a sword which no longer hung at his hip before realising that a burglar probably wouldn’t bother knocking before breaking in, and that he had, in fact, forgotten to lock the door behind him when he got home.

The door closed behind his visitor, and he heard a familiar voice call, “Hob?”

Ah, of course. Who else would just waltz into his flat without waiting to be let in? He supposed he should be grateful Dream had learned to knock at all instead of just travelling by sand straight to Hob’s living room as he had often done back when the two of them had first started spending time together outside their centennial appointments. A wide smile spread across his face as he made his way into the hallway and laid eyes on his old friend. Sleep deprivation or not, Dream was always welcome.

“Salve, my freend,” he greeted him, laying his hands on Dream’s shoulders and standing on tiptoes to reach up and plant a kiss on his lips. “Wel y-mette.” He turned and headed back towards the kitchen. “I was just going to figure out dinner. Can I get you anything?”

There was no response, but Hob hadn’t really expected much of one. Asking Dream if he wanted something to eat or drink was mostly just a habitual courtesy — he knew he rarely indulged in such things in the waking world. He opened the fridge and looked over its contents with his own needs in mind as he waited for Dream to catch up and join him in the kitchen, which took longer than expected. Settling on some leftover stew, he removed the tupperware from the fridge and wandered over to the breadbox on the counter, cursing when he realised he was out of trencher bread. Wait. No. Why the fuck would he use a trencher? He had plates nowadays. Christ, he needed to sleep.

“Is this style of greeting coming back into fashion?” he heard Dream ask from the doorway, and he tore his eyes from the breadbox he had been blindly staring at for just a bit too long to look up at his friend.

“Hm? What greeting?”

Dream raised an eyebrow. “You do not usually kiss me when I enter your home.”

If Hob’s brain had been moving slowly before, now it froze completely. “Kiss? I didn’t—” His short-term memory finally caught up with him and he felt suddenly faint. “Oh, God… I’m— Fuck, I’m sorry, Dream.” The ice-cold fear that had gripped his heart was somewhat lessened by the fact that Dream looked mildly amused rather than offended, and he buried his rapidly flushing face in his hands. “Christ, I didn’t mean to— Sorry, I’m really out of it today and I think my brain has been stuck in the wrong century the entire day. I was going for a friendly greeting and apparently chose something that would’ve been appropriate six hundred years ago — before, you know, kissing on the mouth like that had the, uh, intimate connotations it has today.”

“I am aware of the greeting customs of humans, past and present,” Dream said, and when Hob dared to look up again, he could see the corner of his friend’s mouth twitch slightly, “I was merely taken aback by the anachronism.”

Hob took that as confirmation that he was forgiven for his slip-up, and he allowed himself a slightly nervous chuckle to lighten the mood, trying very hard to push back the thought that he had actually kissed Dream. He now knew what those lips felt like against his own, after having fantasised about it for ages. And this is how he found out? Through an absent-mindedly archaic greeting that was over in a second? Fucking hell, Gadling, get a grip. He needed to invest in sleeping pills after this, to prevent anything like it to ever happen again.

“Well, still. Sorry. Wouldn’t have been appropriate even if this had been the 14th century, would it? We’re hardly equals — you know, with you being a literal king and all. Someone like me should have kissed the hem of your coat, or the ground at your feet, or something like that.”

Dream took a step closer to where Hob was leaning back against the counter. “You are not my subject, Hob Gadling. You are my friend. I would rather have you kiss me like an equal.”

And wasn’t that a thought? Hob tried to remind himself that Dream’s words were on the subject of platonic greetings in a historical context, but he was finding it very, very hard not to imagine him saying the same thing in a modern context — as an invitation. His eyes dropped down to Dream’s plump lips, which looked so much softer when turned up in fond amusement than when pursed in annoyance or fury. Quite against his conscious efforts not to, he recalled the way they had parted slightly in surprise when he had covered them with his own and how they had not been as cool as he had previously imagined them, but pleasantly warm and lush. He imagined they would feel even more so if Dream initiated a kiss instead of being surprised by one. Especially if he abandoned the platonic pretence and kissed Hob the way he had dreamt of for far longer than he cared to admit.

Dream’s lips moved, saying something that Hob didn’t quite register, but which at least made him realise that he had been staring rather rudely.

“Hm?” he said again, tearing his eyes away to meet Dream’s. They were darker and closer to him than they had been before. “Sorry, what?”

“You are sleep deprived,” Dream stated simply.

“How did you know?”

“I am Dream of the Endless. I know.” He stepped even closer to Hob, almost crowding him against the counter. “And, being half asleep as you are, your daydreams are far more vivid and harder to ignore than usual.”

“What— Oh.” Oh no… “Fuck, I’m sorry—”

“No need to apologise,” Dream murmured. He was practically hovering over Hob at this point. “Unless…you did not mean it?”

His nose brushed lightly against Hob’s, and Hob forgot how to breathe. “Mean what?” he managed to squeeze out, dizzy with proximity to his oldest friend.

This close he could smell him. He could feel Dream’s breath (which he did not strictly need) dance over his lips when he spoke again, a low rumble which reverberated through Hob’s entire body and lit a fire in his belly.

“Do you wish me to stop?” Dream clarified, and there could be no question as to his meaning. Not when his body made contact with Hob’s, pressing him up against the counter, gently but insistently.

“No,” Hob breathed, half suspecting that he had, in fact, fallen asleep at the kitchen table and that this was a dream. But he had been friends with Dream long enough to be able to tell the difference between dreaming and waking, as well as how to tell if his friend was actually there in his dreams. As unlikely as this was, his feet were firmly planted in the Waking, even if his mind was at risk of straying dangerously close to the Dreaming in his current state. “No, I don’t.”

“Very well.” Dream’s voice was halfway between a purr and a growl as he surged forward, closing the remaining distance to slot their lips and bodies together.

Hob had been right. There was a world of difference between giving Dream a little peck on the mouth and being kissed by him in earnest. To say that sparks flew would be an understatement. It was more akin to being consumed but a wildfire, burning hot and fierce. Gone was the reserved stiffness his friend often exhibited in public. Now he sank his hands into Hob’s hair with passionate abandon and licked into his mouth like a man dying of thirst hoping to catch every last drop of water in his cup. He pressed himself close to Hob, slipping a knee between his legs and rolling his hips experimentally, obviously pleased when it wrung a moan out of Hob.

Hob’s hands flew up to Dream’s hips, finding their way beneath his stupid, elegant coat which he still hadn’t removed. He clutched at the fabric of his shirt, using it to pull his friend even closer, marvelling at the solidity of his thin body as he splayed a hand over his ribs and moved it in a caress around to his back. He could count every knob in his spine by touch, yes, but the muscles surrounding it were strong and firm and they danced beneath his hand as Dream reached down and lifted Hob onto the countertop like he weighed absolutely nothing — and fuck, if that wasn’t a turn on…

Hob retaliated by wrapping his legs around Dream’s lithe form and groaned when his friend rutted up against him. He was reasonably sure that Dream must have made himself taller than he’d been a moment ago for their groins to still be at the same height, but he had a hard time focusing on that when it felt so damn good to have Dream’s obvious erection rub against his own, even through far too many layers of clothes.

“Fuck, Dream…” he gasped when Dream, a good while later, broke the kiss to instead mouth at the side of his neck, then up to nip at a sensitive earlobe, all while slipping his hands under the hem of his shirt to palm at longing skin. “Are you… Ah! Do you want to take this to the bedroom?”

He was proud of himself for managing the question without his voice trembling. Despite the fact that Dream had initiated this whole thing and was clearly as excited about it as Hob was, he still felt the half-irrational fear that any sudden moves or potentially offending propositions might send his friend running like he had the last time Hob had dared presume too much.

Dream hummed against the spot where Hob’s ear connected to his jaw and dragged his fingernails lightly down his back, sending a shiver down his spine. “A sensible idea. You are weary and need to rest.”

“Not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Nevertheless, I think perhaps you ought to get some sleep. I can feel you yearning for the Dreaming, in mind and body alike.”

“For its ruler, maybe. I may be a bit tired, but I’d rather continue this than try and fail to go to sleep right now.”

He would never admit it, but a pang of anxiety shot through him at the thought of interrupting this at this point. He needed them to see it through, and to talk about it afterwards to figure out what the hell it meant. If they stopped now, if Dream left… Would they have the courage to bring it up the next time they saw each other, or would they dance around it for a few more centuries? He wasn’t sure he could bear that.

Dream pulled back enough to meet Hob’s eyes. His lips were red and puffy and sported an amused smile. “Hob, I shall join you in the Dreaming, naturally. I too am quite keen to finish what we have started.” He punctuated this with a roll of his hips which chased Hob’s fears away to make room for arousal. “As for falling asleep — there are certain benefits to keeping the King of Dreams as one’s lover. It will not prove an obstacle.”

Hob hardly heard anything he said after the word lover, which bounced around in his head like an intoxicating echo. “Well, then… Bringe me to bedde, louer myn,” he murmured, lifting a hand to push a strand of Dream’s wild hair behind his ear. It was just as soft as it looked.

His lover smiled and whispered, “Slepe, thanne, my biloued.”

Dream bent his head to place a gentle kiss on Hob’s forehead, and suddenly it was nigh on impossible to keep his eyes open. The last thing Hob was conscious of before sleep claimed him was his head slumping forward to rest on Dream’s shoulder. Then everything went dark and fuzzy.

***

When Hob next opened his eyes, he knew he was dreaming. He found himself in a room he did not recognise, but he knew it belonged to the Palace of the Dreaming. It was unclear whether he knew it because he recognised the stone the walls were built from, or the style of the lofty stained-glass windows, or because of the way you just knew things sometimes when you dreamt, but it hardly mattered. What mattered was that he was lucid, that he was in a bed, that he was naked beneath the sheets, and that Dream stood before him by the side of the bed, dressed only in a diaphanous black robe which was seemingly woven from pure shadow.

“Hello, Hob,” Dream rumbled, voice impossibly deep and sonorous here in his natural habitat. His eyes gleamed with starlight as he looked down at Hob.

“Please tell me I’m not currently asleep in a heap on my kitchen floor,” was what Hob managed to say after suppressing the urge to just whine and rip that horribly teasing robe off of Dream’s body.

“Of course not. I carried you to bed. The point was to ensure you got some restful sleep, which the floor is hardly suited for.”

“Oh, that’s the point of this, is it?” Hob asked with a breathless laugh, running his eyes down the neckline of the robe, which plunged dangerously low.

Dream smirked. “Among other things.” He placed a knee on the bed, and then, in an unnaturally smooth movement, he was seated across Hob’s hips, their bodies separated only by the gossamer fabric of the robe and the silky satin of the sheets.

“And what were those, again? Would you care to remind me?” Hob teased, reaching out to slide his hands up slim but powerful thighs.

“It would be my pleasure.”

That night, as Hob would later reflect, put every wet dream he’d had in his very long life to shame. The next morning, he woke up well-rested but starving, with a distinctly uncomfortable situation in his pants and a tupperware container full of spoiled stew waiting for him in the kitchen. That didn’t matter much, however, when he also woke up to find the King of Dreams in his bed.

#The Sandman fanfic #Dreamling fanfic #The Sandman #Dreamling #One-shot #my fic #Can you BELIEVE that I actually wrote something under 10k?#I certainly can't #It's a bit disorienting tbh

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