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colasapphic · 2 days ago

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Idk if you accept drabbles or not but I’ve been thinking abt mom!best friend Georgia

She just recently met you and gosh she’s head over heels a bit younger then her (hella younger then her) maybe 5ish years older then her daughter and Georgia KNOWS she shouldn’t she really does but it’s so hard

Especially when reader bats those pretty eyes at her and practically begs for Georgia’s praise and since she’s been working with Georgia a lot she loves when Georgia listens to her ideas and tells her “that’s amazing peach” or even better “good girl”

And reader oh? They’re not any better Georgia in her low cut tops during summer and shorts way to short for someone who’s meant to be a mother of two reader feels like a full blown perv💔

And they both know they shouldn’t but, how could they not indulge themself one day when Georgia shirt was to short and reader was practically begging to be told how good she was? How could they not have sex on Georgia (Paul’s) desk I mean really?

They’ve already started something they shouldn’t? How could they not finish it hm?

(a/n : oh this is insaneee i love it…probably not my best work since i’m drowning in writers block but)

office siren | georgia miller

wc: 2.6k (little more than a drabble oops)

summary: you work for mayor miller after your mother helps you land the job, but paperwork isn’t the only thing the mayor thinks about filling out.

cw: SMUT MDNI, femreader, praise kink, possessive georgia, reader has anxiety

being a nepo baby was probably top five most embarrassing things that have happened in your entire life.

you were technically only hired because your mother was friends with the mayor. you had the skill, sure, but would you have been hired if not for her? you had known georgia for about a year now—some crazy shit transpiring in that time period. your mother had stayed by georgia’s side though, she was loyal like that. you had often found yourself bringing meals over to georgia during her trial, it was eerily quiet after her kids were taken, you felt bad for her.

now here you both were, a few months after the trial, and georgia was the goddamn mayor. turns out the people really didn’t like that paul randolph abandoned his innocent wife in a time of need. she stole his job right out from under him—you hate how much you think he deserved it. although there was something you couldn’t quite shake about georgia miller… how absolutely gorgeous she was. if she wasn’t your mother’s friend—and a decade older than you—you’d have asked her out a long time ago. sometimes you swear she wears those outfits on purpose, which then makes you angry at yourself because you’re ogling like a man. you assumed it was some dumb crush when you had first met her, but it had never really gone away. as you feel a nudge to your side, you whip around to snap at the person—but then realize it was georgia. and you had been standing at the printed this entire fucking time.

“darlin’ did you sleep okay?” she asks in a concerned tone, reaching out to touch your arm. you back away as if her hand was an open flame—it sure felt like it. it’s then that you can really take in her beauty, she was wearing regular dress pants but a shirt that surely was not appropriate for the workplace. you feel your gaze lingering on her cleavage before you look back to the printer, “i—guess not. i have those event plans you wanted” you respond, grabbing the papers out of the printer and turning back to her with a big grin on your face. just grin and bear it, your mother had always taught you.

instead of asking you to come to her office, she simply does the ‘come here’ motion with her finger—walking slowly to the door—you almost thought she was moving in a more seductive manner.

your heart feels like it was going to beat out of your chest as she reads through your plans, she had never been mean to you before, but maybe these ones were really bad and she’d make fun of you before shredding them and firing yo—

“these are so good, peach” she beams, placing the papers on her desk and leaning back to get a better look at you. you were absolutely stunning, she didn’t entertain younger men—especially not girls ten years her junior, but the way your eyebrows furrowed as she read through your papers, scared of rejection, then softened again when she spoke truly drew her in. when your mother had mentioned you were between jobs, she gave you this one without hesitation, maybe a little too quickly. she couldn’t help it, this way you could stay right next to you and she could admire you all she wanted, a little selfish sure—but if she had it her way, you’d never leave her side.

she remembers when she first met you, you were beautifully creative, but she never imagined she’d be able to work by your side. it was exhilarating—working with someone just as intelligent as her, she knows it would be wrong to pursue you, so she watches from afar—hoping one day you’d make the move so she wouldn’t have to.

“georgia…?”

her thoughts are interrupted by your beautiful voice and she shakes her head to clear her mind, “i’m sorry, the days are catching up to me”

“catching up to you? please, you're in your prime!” you shoot back, gesturing to georgia as if that explained everything. it did. georgia chuckled in response, rubbing her face and taking another look at the papers you had turned in, “i do have one idea that didn’t make it into the paper…” you start slowly and georgia looks up at you immediately, a soft smile making its way onto her face, “the floor is yours”

“so i was thinking about how we did that bake sale for years, but when you came to town and did a poker night—which was extremely successful. what if we switched it up every year? this year could be a carnival night…y'know it is all for the kids…” you trail off slowly after explaining, georgia’s unreadable facial expression making you more nervous about your idea. you chew on the inside of your mouth as your gaze falls onto the floor, “it’s not even really an idea—we could go back to the bake sale.” you add, your voice losing more of its strength as you continue, god you really needed to just shut up.

georgia notices the way your gaze would sometimes flicker back to her, eyelashes batting with a puppy dog stare—begging for approval of some kind, how adorable. georgia finds herself biting her finger while staring at you, but once realizing how long she’d been silent—she clears her throat, “a carnival? austin would love that” she murmurs, which causes your head to jerk up towards her—no more batting eyelashes, but a curious stare.

“see? this is why i have you on my team y/n, you really are brilliant”

georgia praises and you practically light up—georgia almost swore you were blushing by the way you avert her gaze as she desperately tries to find it. you clear your throat, more confident now as you approach the desk—placing your hands on some papers and leaning closer to georgia, “and it’s better for business. since we’d be including the kids, that means more people—we’d have to pay for all the carnival equipment, but we’d still be making profit. and who knows, maybe teenagers can tell their little friends from out of town…they show up…that’s even more money” you smirk as you look her in the eye, there’s that cunning confidence she adored, anxiety didn’t suit you. georgia finds herself leaning in, maybe to kiss you, but she aborts at the last second—turning her face and letting out a breathy chuckle,

“you’re an enigma, y/n. you’re so smart, but you get inside your own head too much, be more confident in your pitches, others are more inclined to listen to you with a good head on your shoulders” georgia advised you and you nodded, standing upright and fixing your tie. had she leaned in for a kiss? no way, you were seeing things. she was simply playing along with you, you were friends. well… she was your mom’s friend…you’re her assistant. but still…you’re kinda like friends.

“noted. thank you.” you reply quietly, leaving her office even quieter and taking a seat at the desk closest to her door—she had insisted you work there—as her assistant of course.

you work your ass off all day—desperately trying to forget about georgia, but it was hard as she always flashed you a smile everytime you glanced in her direction, like she’d already been watching you. you hadn’t realized how late it had gotten until georgia slides her hand across your keyboard—fucking up what you had been writing. you raise your head to curse out whoever just messed you up, but upon realizing who it was, the words immediately dissolve in your mouth. you turn your head back to fix what she’d done, but instead she grabs your jaw lightly, turning it to face her,

“no.”

“okay…”

georgia laughs at how easily you agreed to anything she said, reaching her hand down to rub your shoulder, “i just meant it’s 10…let me drive you home i don’t want you walking” she says sincerely and you laugh, unintentionally, but when was the last time someone got kidnapped in wellsbury? you shake your head, “it’s fine, the crime here is practically just jaywalking…and that one time you got accused of murder…so crazy”

“so crazy” georgia parrots—it seemed like her voice was strained, “but i’m serious, i’m driving you home. end of story.” it seemed as though she’d already made up her mind—shutting off your computer and spinning your chair around so you can get up. and you do. immediately.

she wraps an arm around you as you both walk out of her office and to her car.

ᯓ★

the weekend was fairly eventful for you. you had hung out with your mom and georgia on saturday—finally having the time to spend time together without talking about work. it didn’t help that she looked so much hotter out of formal clothes, you had mentioned as much. well maybe not that blunt, “you look so pretty in casual clothes” had been your exact words—what if she had been offended by that?

and sunday…well. you went clubbing with hours friends. you knew you shouldn’t have—it was a work night, but they begged and cried until you agreed. you only wanted to stay for a few hours, but you ended up so wasted you landed in another girls bed. she was older and blonde. for a second you almost thought it was georgia. go figure.

you sighed in relief upon realizing it wasn’t hers or your house you were in. you ended up having to go to work in the clothes you wore to the club last night—which wasn’t that bad, since you managed to find a blazer to button and hide your skimpy shirt. as you walked into the office, you noticed the stares—who the hell wears leather pants to the office—you imagined they thought. you tried to ignore them as you walked to your seat, you just needed to stay in your chair all day and you looked normal. you tried to just focus on your work, but it was hard with the whispers and the pounding in your head from a hangover. when it feels like your head was going to explode, you see georgia approach and place a bottle of ibuprofen down on your desk—as well as a water bottle.

“you look like you had fun last night”

“you can’t even see my pants!”

“your neck.” georgia sounded mad—and truthfully, she was. god she didn’t even know you were old enough to go clubbing, let alone follow a girl home and let her mark you up. georgia fights the urge to twitch her eye, a short breath leaving her lips, keeping a cool exterior as always.

“come to the bathroom, i’ll show you how to cover a hickey.” her voice is calmer now, but there’s an edge to it. you down the pills and quickly follow her into the bathroom—where she does exactly what she said she’d teach you. all while glancing down at your pants every few seconds, “i didn’t have time to change this morning” you chuckled out—you were nervous, she loved that. georgia let her body press a little too close against yours… so close you could feel her breath on you. you felt as though your heart would beat out of your chest everytime she drew closer.

“no judgement, i’ve had my fair share of walks of shame”

“but i don't do walks of shame! or anything like that!” you don’t even notice your voice raise as you spoke, this was so embarrassing. she thought you were a total slut. god you ruined everything. you were never going to have a chance with her so apparently you found the closest version—oh my god she could never find out who you slept with.

the walk back to your desk was silent—almost hauntingly so. georgia walked slowly behind you and you could feel her gaze fixated on you, though for a reason you couldn’t quite detect. you find yourself unable to get any work done that day—thoughts lingering to other things…like georgia. more than your thoughts had wandered to her before. once the clock hit 8 and everyone was long gone, you clicked off your computer—leaning back in your chair with a heavy sigh. you’d be able to get back on track tomorrow, you just needed time to process.

“y/n, my office please”

you look over to see georgia standing in the doorway of her office, she waits a few seconds before disappearing back into it—expecting you to follow. you do… rather nervously. were you in trouble? as you walk in, you try to fix your hair as best as possible, “am i in trouble, georgia?” you ask and she smirks—which made you more nervous.

“not at all, peach! you just didn’t seem focused today, are you alright?”

“oh yeah…i’m sorry—i’ve been distracted.”

“about last night?” she walks dangerously close to you after the accusation. you step back on instinct, but she only steps closer in response—like a lioness stalks her prey. you manage to shake your head vigorously, “no! i don’t even remember it… i was … so drunk!” you try to explain but you can’t find the words, not with georgia so close to you. she only chuckles in response, pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “you’re so cute” she whispers breathily.

you should definitely back away, this was so inappropriate. you worked for her, you were younger than her, she was friends with your mom! this was morally wrong on so many levels… but you couldn’t back away. it was like your feet were glued to the ground. georgia moves impossibly closer, her face just inches from yours—like she was waiting for something. you wanted to lean in and kiss her, but you hold back, waiting for her to make the first move. she was the expert after all.

“if you want me, take me, because i won’t make the first move” she whispered, but it almost sounded like she was shouting. your ears rung upon hearing that and you couldn’t help but listen—grabbing the sides of her face and kissing her. georgia returns the kiss immediately, grabbing your waist to push you up against her desk.

your breathing becomes labored as georgia’s lips make their way down your jaw to your neck, fingers fiddling with the blazer buttons. once she discards the blazer, her hands feel all around your waist, lips moving to your chest—leaving behind stains of red. your hands tangle in her hair as she kisses your cleavage, fingers fiddling with your belt. her hand soon finds its way into your pants, rubbing your clit gently before looking up at you with a smirk. you grab the back of her head, yanking her back into a kiss and moaning into her mouth as you feel her fingers enter you. your thoughts are too fuzzy to process the fact that you probably shouldn’t be fucking your boss on her own desk—or what would happen if your mother found out about this.

“you’re so good for me” georgia whispers onto your lips and you grip her hair tightly while whining, “you like when i call you my good girl?” she continues and your hips jerk against her fingers.

“yes…please—fuck” your words become jumbled, your mind was foggy and you could tell you were reaching the end. georgia presses further into you, lips venturing back to your jaw—not kissing hard enough to leave any lasting marks.

“you’re so pretty like this…fucked out on my desk” she mumbles—curling her fingers. you moan louder at that, your other hand gripping her shoulder tightly as you rut against her hand. it only takes one more curl of her fingers for you to cum, moaning her name as you throw your head back. when she pulls away you try to pull her back, to kiss her again, but she was much stronger than you in this state.

“get on home now, before your mother starts to worry” is all she says, ouch. but really, she was trying her best to keep herself from pouncing on you and reminding you who you belong to.

#ginny and georgia #ginny & georgia #ginny & georgia netflix #ginny and georgia x reader #ginny & georgia x reader #georgia miller #georgia miller x reader

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antianakin · 8 months ago

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Happy fix-it AU where Padme leaves Anakin anyway because she realizes how bad he is for her, and she ends up retiring because she REALLY doesn't want to be a Senator anymore (it was also maybe encouraged by her Queen after her secret marriage to a Jedi was discovered) and she goes back to Naboo to be with her family. She's left behind her responsibilities but she doesn't know what to do now, she's just... adrift, sort-of in limbo and mourning her relationship with Anakin. She has to keep convincing herself not to go back to him because she KNOWS she doesn't want that anymore, she KNOWS she doesn't want to be the person she was with him again, but the thrill of the secret marriage to someone who was so passionate about being with her is also sort-of like a drug.

Her parents both offer to let her come help them in their respective jobs, but she doesn't really have the energy for that right now. She DOES like helping Sola with her nieces because their energy and innocence seems to be a balm for her heart. One day, Sola asks if Padme can take the kids to a local festival in Theed one day while she and her husband go do something else, and Padme agrees. The girls are old enough and Theed is safe enough that they can wander off on their own away from Padme as long as they know not to go TOO far and come back to her after a little while. As she peruses the different artwork on her own, one artist's work stands to her more than anyone else's, it just hits at the core of her and she's not even sure why. She stands in front of a painting of a bird in flight for what seems like hours, though it can't be more than a minute or two, before the artist himself comes over to speak to her.

He addresses her as Senator Amidala, and she quickly tells him that she's not a Senator anymore and she doesn't really want to go by the name Amidala either, she prefers just Padme these days. He agrees, and something about him, maybe his eyes, seems familiar but she can't quite put her finger on it. They talk about his art for a while and everything he says about his inspiration feels like it's speaking directly to her. Eventually, Pooja and Ryoo come up to her and start pulling at her hands, demanding that she come see something with them. Before she leaves, she finally realizes she didn't even know his name and asks him.

It's Palo. The first boy she'd ever loved. The last time she'd seen him she'd been twelve in the Legislative Youth Program. She knew he'd left politics to become an artist instead, but she'd never actually seen any of his art before or ever tried to get back in contact with him. Now she wishes she had. Pooja and Ryoo are still pulling her away so she doesn't have time to really get over her shock at this revelation before she has to leave him behind and someone else comes up to ask him a question in her place.

He shows up at her parents' door the next day with the painting of the bird she'd so adored, and offers it to her as a gift. He refuses to accept any payment for it no matter how much she insists, but asks if she'd be willing to take a walk with him instead. She agrees. They end up spending the whole day together, just talking. For the first time, Padme doesn't feel like she's drowning in her own feelings or floating with no direction. She feels a lot like she's finally come home.

#star wars #padme amidala #palo #palo star wars #anakin critical #anakin skywalker critical #anidala critical #anti anidala #i guess these two would be palodala #palodala #palodala au #i don't think artists on naboo would ever struggle for money #i feel like naboo is so committed to investing in its artists of all kinds that that just doesn't happen #but i kinda want padme to be palo's sugar daddy anyway #“padme sweetheart i make plenty of money i don't need you to keep giving me more”#“i am going to dress you in the finest fabrics and give you literally everything you have ever wanted just because i can”#“will it make you happy?”#“deliriously”#“fine”#they have like 6 kids together because padme wants a big family and he's super happy to oblige #all of padme's handmaidens THOROUGHLY support her new choice of beau #he has no ambitions beyond what he's already accomplished for himself #he likes to tell padme that he had only had one major life goal left and that was to paint a portrait of the queen #and now he gets to paint portraits of the queen everyday if he wants #and he's supportive of whatever padme wants to do #if she wants to just settle down and be a housewife that's totally fine #if she wants to occasionally go out to help with the refugees in some sort of grassroots organization that's also fine #between their two families and the handmaidens there's no shortage of help taking care of the kids #and she's never gone for that long when she knows she has something so beautiful to come home to

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5sospenguinqueen · 7 months ago

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WAG In Training - Franco Colapinto x Reader

Summary: When your boyfriend makes the leap from F2 to F1, you never expected for fans to show so much interest in you. However, they seem to enjoy that your comments are… less than professional

Warnings: Suggestive comments

Requested: Yes by anon

F1 Masterlist

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f1 just posted

liked by jensonbutton, officialmpmotorsport and others

f1 starting in monza, franco colapinto will be racing in williams for the remainder of the 2024 season

12,074 comments

williamsracing welcome to the team

alex_albon bienvenida, franco

francolapinto so excited for this opportunity

→ user1 he’s so polite

→ user2 just wait

user3 he looks like disney prince

user4 not surprised he got the seat. look at those big beautiful eyes. i bet james was like "whatever you say, handsome"

user5 hand veins!

its_yn so proud of you baby! we’ll have to celebrate later

→ francolapinto i can think of a few ways

→ its_yn as long as it ends with those fireproofs on the floor

→ user6 who is this?

→ user7 his girlfriend, and has been since before he was in f2 so don’t start

→ user8 omg her instagram is so cute. all the pics of her and franco

its_yn just posted

liked by williamsracing, lilymhe and others

its_yn i heard f1 drivers get the best head. @/francolapinto want to test that theory?

6,389 comments

francolapinto but i already know i get the best. i am always happy to prove it though

→ williamsracing add this to the list of things you can no longer say online

→ its_yn that’s becoming a very long list

user9 she’s an icon, she’s a legend, she is the moment

user10 i never knew how much i needed y/n in my life until right now

user11 i hope williams never pr train her because she is hilarious

lilymhe i can’t wait to meet you

→ its_yn me too! you’ve definitely been my favourite thing about williams so far

→ alex_albon rude

alexandrasaintmleux i like the shade of lipstick

→ its_yn i’ll let you borrow it

user12 y/n and franco are going to take off ten years from james vowels�� lifespan

user13 i love how cute her aesthetic is but then you read her captions

yourfriend uh oh, they’ve found you, y/n. you better delete your old tweets

→ user14 too late. we already have screenshots

user15 this is unhinged and i love it. is she like this all the time?

→ dennis_hauger yes. and i’m glad she’s gone

→ its_yn oi

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williamsracing just posted

liked by alex_albon, francolapinto and others

williamsracing first post-quali interview in f1 completed

10,998 comments

francolapinto something i have been looking forward to

→ user1 yeah, hun, we know

→ user2 the interviewer definitely knows

user3 okay but the pouty lip in the last slide? talk about kissable

→ user4 i’d like to nibble on them liked by its_yn

→ user5 i love that instead of disliking all these comments, y/n just joins in

user6 his face in the second slide when he realised y/n was watching him flirt with older women

user7 y/n is stronger than me because if my man was rizzing up all the interviewers, i would throw myself in front of a moving f1 car

→ francolapinto she’s fine. she gets her own back by flirting with jenson whenever she sees him

→ its_yn it’s not my fault he’s so scrummy

→ jensonbutton thank you, y/n

user8 okay but i love how secure they are in their relationship. she only jokingly told him off and they kissed straight after

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fc43 just posted

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fc43 i wonder what else is thick

4,044 comments

its_yn i can already feel the bruises on my cervix

→ user9 !!!

→ user10 out of pocket

user11 i love that she’s even interacting with a fan page

→ user12 aha she’s everywhere

user13 do you think he’s into choking? liked by its_yn

→ user13 omg she confirmed

→ user14 yes but in which way? he likes to be choked? she likes to be choked? both?? liked by its_yn

user15 his neck looks so biteable liked by its_yn

user16 (s)creaming

franco43stan just posted

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franco43stan i’d like to report these photos. they made my 85yr old grandmother have palpitations

11,437 comments

its_yn gnawing at the bars of my enclosure

its_yn actually salivating

its_yn yes, i’ve licked those abs. yes, i’ve done so when they were sweaty

→ williamsracing we knew we’d find you here

→ user1 oop she’s been caught. they’re going to take her away from us

user2 y/n stronger than me letting her man post videos with a slutty 2 second shot of his stomach

→ user3 girl likes watching us thirst over him

→ user4 makes her feel validated about her horniness

→ its_yn at the end of the day, ladies, i’m the one who gets to touch

user5 imagine that chain swinging against your back

→ its_yn been there, done that

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francolapinto just posted

liked by williamsracing, landonorris and others

francolapinto my girl

11,437 comments

alex_albon okay, this was sorta sweet if i ignore what these photos undoubtedly lead to

→ lilymhe you never show photos like this of me

→ alex_albon those are only for my eyes! plus, i have been trained properly

user6 franco saw that everyone loved y/n for being unhinged and decided to let everyone know that he is also down bad

its_yn why would you post these when you’re all the way in america and can’t do anything about the ache you’ve created!

→ francolapinto calling you. now.

→ user7 doesn’t he have quali in 40 mins?

→ user8 phone sex is more important

williamsracing why do you give us hope that this will be a normal post… and then we scroll? and then we read the comments

user9 i only look at franco’s posts to see y/n’s comments

user10 even if franco doesn’t have a seat for next year, y/n will forever be famous as my #1 wag

user11 y/n and franco mean so much to me. we can’t lose them next year

user12 franco is cute and all but y/n 🥵

user13 can franco fight?

→ francolapinto he will try

its_yn if i’d have known we’d get this much attention, i’d have convinced franco to stay in f2

→ francolapinto do not lie. you were so happy for me that you cried

→ its_yn no, that was from how good the celebration sex was

→ francolapinto some of our best work tbf

williamsracing just posted

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williamsracing couple’s day out? no! couple’s pr training!

14,880 comments

f1 heartbroken

jensonbutton finally

user1 poor james looks like he’s heard things he never wanted to

user2 aha james has been through the trenches

redbullracing don’t try to silence them

alpinef1team no! let them let their freak flags fly

user3 james fighting for his life with these two

→ user4 and all the teams opposing him

user5 did they put franco in time out?

→ francolapinto yes :(

user6 just fell to my knees in walmart

user7 noooo they got to my emotional support couple

user8 y/n looks like she’s had an amazing day

→ its_yn i did! i learnt so much

→ user9 are you going to listen to any of it

→ its_yn no :)

→ francolapinto we’re here for a fun time, not a long time

→ user10 ^^ franco trying to convince y/n to have sex in his driver’s room liked by its_yn and francolapinto

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requests open

coming up; liam lawson x ferrari admin including cars references

max verstappen part 2 to taste

charles leclerc x sainz reader

tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25 @sillyfreakfanparty @iloveyou3000morgan

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cosmic-dust-poltergeist · 3 months ago

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Another Clone Danny au, but the twist is he's basically reincarnated. CW shoved his core into a soulless LoA Damian clone to keep the halfa from completely dying after his original human body was destroyed in his og dimension. Danny is currently mute, too. Be warned, this is long. [Pt 2 here]

Danny had become completely aware in his new body after about a month of barely processing what is happening. The trauma of everything that's gone wrong in his life putting him in a disassociative state while his body's creators train and test him for something. It takes a while for him to realize he's not their first clone, but is the first to not be a soulless husk. These people talk too freely around him, but rarely each other, confident in his inability to understand anything outside of orders. So he decides to play along, learning about this hell hole and what little of the outside world he can. He takes the latter with a grain of salt, he can smell how delusional his creators are.

"Hmm, something is defective with this clone." A tall, beautiful woman says while glaring at Danny's eyes, "Damian's eyes are Juniper. This thing's eyes have been fading to a bluer colour every time I see it. Someone has made a mistake.... no matter. Beloved and my son shouldn't notice it's eyes are pine if we send it now. It is ready?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Give it its instructions and get it out of my sight."

And this is how Danny learns he's been made to attempt to kill his template or die trying. He gets the full feeling that they expect him to die, like the, apparently, dozen before him. (He hides his amusement when realizing he can truly relate to Dani now.) Too bad for his creators, he's not like the rest and fully intends to not do any murder once he's out of this godforsaken lab.

Keeping himself from reacting gets a whole lot harder when he realizes they intend to put him in a crate to ship him to some place called Gotham, but he stays as blank and relaxed as possible. It's only once they unload him, inform him of his Template's whereabouts, and ditch him in the middle of what he assumes is Gotham, does he finally grimace and shake off the shitty shell persona he had going on. As he stretches out his limbs and thinks on how he wants to play this, he takes in how absolutely drenched in the smell of death the city is. It reminds him enough of Amity that he knows his ghost half would never go hungry here, but what to do with his human half? He wonders if his Template and his father would care for another sibling. He caught the tall lady and her father saying insulting things about how many strays, he assumes kids, his Template's father adopts, it's usually over how pissed they are that his Template isn't treated like God's gift for simply being blood related.

So with a bit of hesitant hope, Danny heads towards where he was told his Template was. He's hit with a wave of weariness when he finds a kid of the same colouring as him decked out in a hero costume and arguing with a giant man dressed as a.. bat? Danny has no idea what he's looking at and is a little scared of how aggressive his Template is. Aggression means he's probably going to have to at least dodge a lot.

Danny's awful luck strikes again when before he can even decide on how exactly he's going to approach this, he hears a light crunch that has him bolting several feet in the opposite direction before he whips around and into a defensive fighting stance.

"Shit, sorry, BB." A blonde woman dressed in a purple hero costume says to a small figure that looks like a creepier verson of the bat dude. Purple is standing where the crunching sound came from, and scarily, "BB" is almost exactly where Danny had been. "Shit. He looks like Demon Brat.."

"Calm.." "BB"'s voice is soft and feminine, and she(?) seems to be trying to project "we're not going to hurt you" and "let me near" with body language alone. Which Danny finds impressive but doesn't trust, Purple is too tense and is too ready to attack. So when his Template and his father climb onto the roof, apparently seeing a commotion, and they too look ready to fight, Danny just bolts. He's not dumb enough to test if he can fight 4 unknown trained fighters. He can see why all his predecessors instantly died if they just automatically started fighting and trying to kill people.

The fact he ran seems to surprise them and gives him a few seconds headstart. He ducks and weaves, avoiding everything they throw at him to the best of his ability without tapping into his ghost half. He REALLY doesn't want to out himself as a freak just yet.

"Kid! Get back here! I'm sorry for scaring you!" Purple yells, slightly out of breath and somewhere behind him to the left.

"I demand you stop running!" His Template sounds pissed and directly behind him, so Danny quickly rolls to his right, dodging a tackle. Which apparently BB was ready for, because she's right there and grabs ahold of him, taking them both to the ground. He's scared, trying not to hurt her, and absolutely stuck in her hold without his powers. He lets out an inhuman whine as he struggles. He hasn't spoken a single word in this body yet, he doesn't know if it has the ability yet, and something he hadn't realized would complicate this situation in the way it has.

"Safe" BB tries to soothe, but Danny can't be soothed, not when he can see and sense the rest of his pursuers closing in on them. BB seems to realize this and snaps at her people in annoyance. "Back!"

Danny flinches and trembles in her hold, not knowing if they'll ignore her and ... he's not sure what, but do something to him. But to his endless surprise, they listen and back up several feet. Close enough to help her if she needs it, but far enough Danny relaxes a fraction. It's not a lot, but it's enough to get his anxiety down to a more manageable level. And even though he thought she'd start questioning him now, she simply waits. He's still confused and scared, but slowly relaxes in her hold, an odd sort of trust forming against his will at her calm and "Please trust I won't hurt you" vibe she's yeeting at him.

"Safe." She says and releases her hold just enough to free one of her arms. She gently runs the hand through his hair and rubs his forehead and cheeks, just softly petting him. It's a gentle affection that reminds him of Jazz. He can't remember the last time he was touched kindly, and it's enough to make him tear up. She wipes away any tears that escape. "Safe."

Once he finally stops trembling and he's emotionally spent, she finally fully releases her hold and moves to sit by him so he can sit up. He feels so awkward when he realizes his Template's father and Purple are staring him down while his Template looks like he's trying to pretend to not be interested, but is glancing over too frequently to be believable.

Danny takes a shakey breath and gives a little wave, unconsciously trying to lean towards BB when he sees their body language all sharpen and focus harder on him.

"Who are you?" Bat dude demands, and Danny can see the resemblance between him and his Template, even while he's panicking to figure out how to communicate without his voice. He ends up pointing at his Template with a nervous energy. "Are you a clone?"

Danny is so relieved at the yes or no question, he almost forgets to be nervous about frantically nodding yes. Almost.

"Can you talk?" Purple asks next and he's trembling again as he gives a hesitant no. "Yes or no questions it is!"

He nearly jumps out of his skin when BB starts rubbing his shoulder in a soothing manage. He tries to subtly self-sooth by rubbing his thumb along the middle phalanx of the pointer finger on the hand hidden between him and BB. It's the first time he's done it while not completely alone. He's not sure what the LoA would have done if they'd seen, but he can't imagine it going well for him. He stops self-soothing at the thought. BB's vibes turn very sad next.

"Based on your outfit, the League of Assassins sent you, yes?" His Template growls menacingly at him and Danny winces for the guy's poor teeth the way he grides them at Danny's nod. "To kill me?"

Danny wants to bolt again, but BB is already pulling him into a hug, trapping him. The spike in anger at his nod sends him into a panic, but BB's hold is inescapable, so he ends up "hiding" in her arms. He curls up as small as he can while pressing his face into the front of her shoulder. He feels like a scared little kid.

"Geeze, kid..." Purple sounds sad.

"All of the LoA clones have been nothing but mindless shells. Why are you so different?" His Template doesn't actually sound like he's talking to Danny, but even if he was, Danny literally can't answer that with some sort of aid. Though, Danny doesn't trust these people enough to explain even if he could. "Father. I believe we should take him to the batcave."

Danny tucks himself deeper into BB. She's petting his hair and back the way you would a cat. "Safe."

"One more question." Bat dude says. "Are you planning on going through with your orders?"

Danny can feel BB get defensive on his behalf, even as Danny pulls away to look Bat dude in the face as he frantically shakes his head no.

"Honest. New brother?" Something seems to change in them when BB says this. Amusement and resignation are as easy to read as their weariness. He can't blame them. He's far from their first LoA clone, just the first to not be a mindless murder machine.

"Hn."

"Tt. Really, father?"

"Hn."

"Tt!" Danny blinks in fascination at the weird monosyllable conversation between his Template and his father. BB gets up before pulling Danny to his feet. She keeps a loose hand on his wrist, probably in case he tries to bolt again, but it's still nice. It does get awkward when she keeps her hold as they climb off the roof, and Danny needs a little help getting down with only one hand.

He tucks himself half behind BB when Purple decides to ask him a random assortment of questions while they wait for something called "the batmoble". He's a bit intimidated by her energy, it's so much like his parents'.

'Do you have a favourite food?' No. He hasn't actually eaten food yet in this body, just iv-ed nutrients. 'Favourite animal?' No. He doesn't know this dimension's animals. 'Flowers? Or plant?"No. Same problem. 'Are you hurt in any way?' Shrug. He's a little scratched and bruised, but it's not even in the top hundred of hurt he's been through. He's actually pretty happy this body doesn't have all his scars, his ghost half will have them, but his new human half is basically a blank canvas, and it's a glorious reprieve. 'Have you been anywhere besides the LoA and Gotham?" No. 'Did you at least stay somewhere nice in the LoA?' No? Does the lab count? It was a pretty nice lab all things considered.

Danny nearly jumps out of his skin when a black, sleek car shows up without a driver. He clings to BB when they climb in. He's nearly in her lap.

He can't help but wonder about how out of character he feels. He wonders if it's because this body is, at most, 2 months old, or if his time as only a ghost core kick started childish instincts, his ghost half IS only about a year old, or if the trauma of everything that happened caused a mental regression. He vaguely remembers Jazz talking about age regression as a coping mechanism, not enough to understand if that's what's happening right now, but it sort of feels like it. At least BB doesn't seem to mind having an overgrown toddler using her like a security blanket.

The drive is pretty smooth considering the speed bat dude is driving. Danny looks around "the batcave" in wonder when they pile out.

"Who's that?" A cheerful man in black and blue bounces over. Danny hides behind BB again and wishes he knew literally anybody's name. Currently, he just knows his Template's non-hero identity as Damian Al Gul. BB's hero identity of BB definitely means something, but all he has is what Purple called her.

"New brother!" BB chirps. Blue guy thankfully stops a few feet away while a tired guy about Purple's age wonders up.

"Why does he look like Demon Brat?" Tired guy sounds grumpy and on edge.

"The LoA apparently made a new clone of me. This one seems defective. Simply trying to run away and escape when Black Bat and Spoiler spotted him watching father and I." The new people tense, and Danny fully ducks behind BB, while Damian continues, "He did not throw a single punch and showed true panic at being caught. As you can see, he's been glued to Cassandra's side since she calmed him down."

"Likelihood of this one trying to kill me?" Tired guy asks. "I'm tired of new siblings trying to kill me."

"Unlikely. Kid ran like a scared deer the whole time we were chasing him." Purple, no, Spoiler? reasures tired guy.

"Well, if you weren't so stabbable." There's a teasing tilt to his Template's voice. Danny kind of wants to know what THAT means, so he peeks curiously at them. Tired guy just looks more tired when their eyes meet.

"Damian and Jason both tried to kill me, multiple times." Tired guy explains with a tone that'd be more fitting for a conversation about a sibling stealing a favoured toy in the past, not admitted homicide attempts on one's life. Danny's eyes dart at blue guy and Damian, wondering if they'll try to kill him too. Tired guy frowns before asking, "Do you actually know who any of us are?"

There's a whole lot of squawking when Danny shakes his head no and just points to Damian. Damian is complaining about how little sense it makes to only tell Danny a kill order. Spoiler is embarrassed and complaining about not realizing. Bat dude is giving off embarrassed vibes, even if literally nothing changed in his stance or face. Blue guy, tired guy, and Cassandra all seem very amused, but blue guy is also stressed and tired guy is just resigned.

"Okay, so introductions. I'm Timothy Drake-Wayne, just call me Tim or Drake. My vigilante name is Red Robin." Tired guy says before pointing to each of the other people. "Stephanie Brown is Spoiler, call her Steph. Dick Grayson is Nightwing. Cassandra Caine is Black Bat, call her Cass. Bruce Wayne is Batman. Dam-"

"I am Damian Al Gul Wayne. I am the current Robin and the only blood son of Batman." Danny's Template cuts off Tim.

"Can't say you're the only blood son if we keep the clone," Tim teases and gets a knife thrown at him for it. He easily dodges it and continues talking to Danny. "There's also Jason Todd, who's not here right now. He's Red Hood. Barbara Gordon is our eye in the sky, better known as Oracle. Duke Thomas is Signal, he's our Day shift so he's asleep upstairs currently. And Alfred Pennyworth is the real head of the house and pseudo grandfather, even if he says he's just the family butler. There's more, but they're who you'll most like to interact with anytime soon."

Danny must look as overwhelmed as he feels because Dick(? Why is he named that?) steps closer, hands where Danny can see them. "You okay, little buddy? Do you have a name or something you want us to call you?"

Danny gives Damian, Steph, and Mr. Wayne a panicked look. Steph comes to his rescue.

"He can't speak. We're unsure why he can't, but he hasn't even tried to say anything. Only made a whining noise when Cass pinned him. We'd think it was another Cass situation, but he can understand everything we say."

"Oh.. Maybe he just never learned?" Dick wonders aloud before asking Danny, "About how old are you?"

Danny points to Damian. He's pretty sure his body is the same age as his Template's, who is about as old as Danny's whole existence. Unlike Dani, who was made slightly younger than Danny in body, but is currently only a year old in spirit.

"No, I mean, how long have you been alive?" Dick corrects gently. Danny blinks and figures the correct answer is how long his clone body has been alive. He can explain later when he can communicate better, if he feels safe enough to do so. He holds up 2 fingers. "2 years?"

There's grimaces when he shakes his head.

"2 months?" Danny cautious nods and startles when Steph gasps loudly.

"A Baby!" Danny pouts at that, but can't exactly refute it. He does move so Cass is more between them.

Cass unexpectedly decides to remove her creepy mask, making Danny stare in wide-eyed surprise at her short dark hair.

"Oh! The baby hasn't seen our faces yet!" Steph is delighted and pulls her own mask down. The rest of the group unmask, minus Tim, who's already in civilian clothes. Danny looks at them before circling Cass so he can see her. She's very pretty, some sort of Asian, and giving off happy and calm vibes. It reminds him a little of Jazz when they could just exist, no parents, school, or ghosts to worry about. It's nice. He likes that his new big sister has that peacefulness.

"You see?" Cass smiles and clarifies, "Language of body?"

Danny brightly nods. He had to learn to read body language or die the rest of the way. It wasn't a failure to read it that nearly got him killed.

"I'll teach you to read it even better and to hide your own." Danny is startled by Cass speaking a full sentence before he excitedly indicates he wants to show her something. He can see how absolutely horrified they all get when he slams his body language into the soulless husk both labs of horror he got stuck in wanted. He turns lifelessly to each person, taking in their reacts to it, only breaking character only when he turns back to Cass. He beams excitedly at her, wanting her opinion. "That was very good. Almost no one would be able to tell."

"I can see how the LoA wouldn't know you weren't like the others if you just behaved like that the whole time." Tim hums, seemingly more fascinated than horrified, unlike the rest. They look ready to jump him, so he goes back to hiding behind Cass, deciding right now that he's staying with Tim and/or Cass, until he either runs away or they're all more comfortable with each other.

"Be nice." He can hear the scowl she's giving everyone, but Tim. Tim edges closer with a fancy piece of technically that Danny's never seen before. It almost looks like a clipboard at first glance, but is clearly a sci-fi computer thingy. Danny noticed technology is far more advanced in this dimension, but hasn't had a chance to figure it out.

"Do you know how to work an ipad?" Tim doesn't give him a judgmental look when he shakes his head, just steps closer with clear intent to teach. "Okay, I'll show you. You can read, correct?"

Danny nods and cautiously steps towards Tim so he can see the device better. The others start to wonder off and change into civilian clothes while Tim gives him a crash course on everything Danny can do on this iPad. He does explain there's basically a child lock on it to keep Danny from accidentally going on an unsafe website. It's more for his safety as he learns. Danny accepts that reason, despite knowing that's definitely not the only one, because the other reasons don't matter. He's probably only going to be using it to look up everything he doesn't understand in this dimension and communicating with whoever is in front of him, at least for now. He feels a lot like a toddler with how out of his depth he is, which is honestly a good thing right now. Really sells the "I'm a harmless baby, protect me!" thing he has going on.

"Now that you can answer." Tim smiles a little, "Is there any you want to be called? It's okay if there isn't just yet. Finding your name can be difficult."

[Danny] Danny excitedly shows Tim.

"Danny? Not what I was expecting, but it suits you." Tim's easy acceptance is wonderful, too bad his Template ruins the moment.

"Absolutely not. You need a proper name. How about Daniel? Or maybe the arabic version? Danyal?" Danny throws his most disgusted face he can pull.

"That's a no." Tim sounds like he's barely concealing laughter.

"He needs a proper name. How about Dante?"

[It's better than Daniel, but I still don't like it.]

"How about we come back to this later? We can look up names that Danny can be a nickname for and he can pick from those once he's settled in." Tim basically orders when Damian opens his mouth. "Danny should shower. I'll grab him som-"

Danny grabs his sleeve. Cass isn't here, so Tim is his current security person. He doesn't feel safe with his Template yet.

"Nevermind, I'll get him showered. Could you grab him some clothes?" Tim adjusts to the quiet demand easily, glancing to Danny to ask. "Any idea of preference?"

Danny glances at the stiff outfit he's currently in before writing [Comfy?]

Tim nods and tells Damian, "You should snag one of Dick's hoodies and one of my fluffy pj pants. Alfred probably has some unused underwear somewhere with how many times a guest needed some."

Damian doesn't look pleased, but seems to follow Tim's lead. He does quizzically eye Danny one last time before he leaves. Tim gently leads Danny to what looks like a locker room. No one else is currently in there.

"I know he seems abrasive, but that was his version of trying to bond." Tim explains, "He's trying his best. Just say something if it's too much."

Danny nods and strips. Uncaring of Tim looking at him as he hops in the shower, he only seems to be checking for injuries, then he only glances over every once in a while to make sure "the baby" is cleaning himself properly and doesn't need help. He doesn't get any creepy vibes from the man. He's awfully familiar with the vibes to look out for since some of the scientists would bad touch him, claiming it's for science. It wasn't. Needless to say, being a labrat kind of murders shyness over being naked in cold blood.

Damian shows up with the clothes Tim requested when Danny is drying off. Danny makes sure to scribble a [Thank you!] and show it to him before taking the clothes.

"You are welcome."

"Alfred will be happy his newest grandchild comes with manners pre-installed." Tim jokes, and adds at Danny's curious glance. "The rest of us were feral. You'd think that I'd be an exception since I'm from high society, but I literally blackmailed my way into being Robin and then made a fake uncle to keep myself from being adopted."

Danny gives Tim an alarmed look, and Damian looks curious.

"Okay, so I used to stalk Batman and Robin every night because I lacked adult supervision. I was just taking pictures because I was a huge fan and had figured out who they were when I was 9. Then when I was 12, Jason died for a little bit." This makes Danny more alarmed, so Tim quickly adds. "He's alive and as well as he can be now, but he was Robin at the time, and Bruce, Bruce was devastated. He was taking it out on everyone. Purse snatchers were ending up in the ICU. So I first tried to get Dick to come back to Gotham, when they didn't work, I showed up on the doorstep with photographic evidence I knew everything and demanded I be Robin to keep him safe. I.. It was a rough time. He hated me with every fiber of his being for a while, but I couldn't let Batman die. We were partners, but not family by any stretch of the word. Then.. my parents died and I couldn't let him adopt me. I wasn't his son. I hadn't had an adult keeping track of me in years, hell, B barely tracked me as Robin, thinking it would make me stop. Jokes on him, I'm too stubborn."

"That's unfortunately true." Damian sounds exasperated.

"I hired an actor to pretend to be my fake uncle to keep Bruce from questioning my living situation. Clearly, that didn't last." Tim chuckles, "Steph compared me to a feral cat a lot during that time."

Danny has to pull up his (Dick's?) sleeves to use the iPad. [Are all of your lives so weird?]

"Unfortunately." Damian sighs, "Every single one of us has a different tale of how we came to be with Father."

"Kid, you're a defective clone that just escaped from a cult of assassins and are actively being adopted by the family of your target." Tim teases. "You fit in perfectly."

Danny flusters at that, but has nothing to say against it.

"I apologize if this is a sensitive issue, but I have to ask." Damian does look sorry. "Why don't you talk? I know a few of the Clones were instructed in the past to say things, so I was wondering why you can't."

[Never talked before. Don't know how to. Wasn't taught before mission. Tall lady didn't like my eyes and wanted me gone.]

"Tall lady? Probably Talia. But she didn't like your eyes? Why?" Tim tilts his head.

[Wrong color. Fading slowly to bluer color. Wasn't perfect copy anymore and getting less perfect by the day. Needed to die faster.]

"She wanted you to die because your eye colour?" Tim and Damian look shocked as Danny nods.

[Imperfections die. Barely good enough to be sent out instead of killed in lab.] Danny lays it on thick, but it wasn't untrue. He ended up seeing other "Imperfect" clones be terminated near the end of his stay.

"Well... actually, what colour do you think they'll end up? Now that I'm paying attention, I can see the difference. You think it's a result of whatever made you different?" Tim seems excited by the idea. Damian just looks thoughtful.

[Unsure. Changed from Damian's color to current in a month. Tall lady was very unhappy by it. Don't know why change happened.]

Danny suddenly yawns. He didn't get much sleep in the crate. Too scared to.

"Alright. We can talk more after you get some sleep."

"Alfred told me to tell you you're cut off from caffeine until you sleep a minimum of 6 hours, Drake." Damian looks a little too amused by Tim's despair over that news, before turning to Danny. "Your new room is next to Cassandra's. She apparently requested it while we were otherwise engaged."

Danny is delighted by the news, hugging his iPad to his chest. Tim and Damian lead him to his new room, pointing out things and whose room is who's while they walk. Danny's dazed look and slowly making a list of things to look up really sells his new role. He's also scared to even breathe on anything. Everything is so fancy.

"Getting you your own clothes and room decor will have to wait until tomorrow." Damian informs him apologetically before the brothers bid him goodnight. And Danny doesn't know what to do with that. He doesn't feel safe in this too nice room. So he grabs one of the pillows and the thin extra blanket at the foot of the bed before cramming himself under the bed. He curls up in a ball under the head, the end tables blocking the sides, making him feel safer.

He wakes the first day to Cass laying on the floor nearby, but not under the bed. It's a very weird day for him, but Tim, Cass, and his Template are very helpful and mostly non judgemental to the mess he is. He does find a moment to naturally "discover" his obsession with space. Thankfully, it turns out this dimensions space is so different that he doesn't have to pretend to be clueless. Everything is so different and Danny kind of loves it. He's gifted so much space themed shit and books on space and alien culture throughout the week, he has to fight to keep from glowing in his excitement. He knows they noticed, but let him pretend to be normal for a bit. It's harder to hide his inhumanity in this body, but he does his best.

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chronicowboy · 3 months ago

Text

Eddie calls him about ten minutes after he finishes unpacking. And Buck doesn't—panic. He doesn't! He has no reason to panic. Tommy doesn't know a damn thing about him and Eddie. And Maddie, well. She doesn't know anything either. Not this.

Nobody but him and Eddie—and Chris—understand what they are to each other, and that's okay. Buck made his peace with that long ago. Long before he even knew he liked guys. Which. Not that that matters or has any sway on his perception of his and Eddie's relation—friendship. They're just BuckandEddie. Doesn't need to be any more than that. Just his best friend.

All this to say: when Eddie calls, he doesn't panic. He takes a very respectable three deep breaths, tries not to grimace at the leather squeaking under his ass and hits the green button with a hand that absolutely isn't shaking.

Because he's not panicking. He's happy. He's so happy. He gets to talk to Eddie. For the first time since he left. Why would he be panicking? Because of some stupid assumptions from an insecure ex? Sure, right. Like he'd ever let that touch him and Eddie.

Competition, he thinks, like Tommy ever could have competed with Eddie Diaz.

"H-hey, E-eddie." Buck isn't sure why he stumbles over Eddie's name. He's had enough practice over the past few days. Said it enough times in his life that it should be able to slip out seamlessly every damn time.

"Hey, Buck." And there's Eddie sounding sure and confident and a little tired and warm and soft and so much like his best friend. Buck aches. "Just finished unpacking. Told myself I couldn't call until I was done. Incentive, y'know?"

And Buck grins. Grins so big his face hurts and he forgets all about the stupid leather couch underneath him. He imagines the two of them unpacking at the exact same moment, finishing in the same breath, still in sync even 800 miles apart. And then the second part of it hits him. Calling Buck his reward for menial, mind-numbing labour. The idea of hearing Buck's voice getting him through all the organising and reorganising and rereorganising. Fuck, he misses him.

"I, uh, I-I actually just unfinished packing too," Buck replies. A beat too late maybe. Doesn't matter. Eddie huffs a laugh, nothing matters but that.

"No shit. Should've known it'd take us a while to shake off the synchronicity." And Eddie's voice is so warm, so fond, it soothes the ache of the inevitable loss of their bond. That special tie between them that never let them stray too far soon to be severed. And then, like Eddie can hear him, "still a team even two states apart, huh?"

"Always a team," Buck replies, too soon this time probably. Doesn't matter. Not when he can hear Eddie's smile.

"How's the house treating you?" he asks, words shaped into something beautiful by the curve of Eddie's lips. But still, Buck's heart drops right out of his ass.

How does he answer that?

I missed you so much I couldn't sleep here without you. I didn't unpack because the house still feels like yours. The house still feels like yours because I wish it was. Yours. I couldn't sleep because you weren't snoring down the hallway. And the one night I did sleep here I had to fuck my ex as a distraction just to try and forget that you should be the one in that bedroom.

But he can't say any of that. He can't.

"Uhhhhhh." He blinks. Has forgotten every word in the English language.

"Buck?" Eddie's smile is gone.

"Why'd you stop talking to Tommy when we broke up?"

Silence. Fuck.

"He broke your heart, Buck," Eddie says slowly, evenly, too controlled. Hiding something. "Why the hell would I talk to him?"

"B-because. You guys were friends before me and him got together."

Eddie's straight. Tommy scoffs. Friends.

"And I promised to have your back five years before I even knew he existed," Eddie replies simply. "There was no competition there, Buck."

Oh. Oh, shit.

"How, um, how did you find out about that anyway?" Eddie asks when Buck's silence stretches on too long. "Not that it was a secret or anything. I just... I didn't tell you because I didn't think it mattered. And I know you didn't call Tommy, so..."

"No, n-no, I didn't call him." And he didn't is the thing. Didn't call him to apologise like he said he would to Maddie. Just. Let it lay.

"What aren't you telling me, Buck?" Eddie sighs. Buck misses his fucking sighs.

"Ravi called him. Well, found him. At the bar. And brought him over."

"Jesus Christ." And Buck can see him clear as day, bridge of his nose pinched between his thumb and forefinger. "Remind me to send Ravi a strongly worded e-mail on how to be your partner."

Buck kind of really wants to read that fucking email.

"We slept together," Buck blurts out.

Silence. Fuck.

"You and Ravi...?"

"No." Buck barks out a laugh. A startled sound. "No, not Ravi."

"Okay, okay, good," Eddie breathes out. "Because that would not be one of the points of the e-mail." Buck snorts again. Sobers instantly. Gets a sharp little pang in the pit of his stomach. No reason. "So. Tommy."

"Yeah." Buck ducks his head. "Tommy."

"Did you..." Eddie struggles with something for a moment, and Buck finds himself sitting up straighter, bracing for whatever comes next. "I mean, did you... When you... y'know, did you go to his or-or... yours?"

Buck bluescreens. Blacks out maybe. What the fuck?

"Um, y-yours or, no, mine. M-mine. It was closer. To the bar. And I—" And he what? What? What is it lurking in the shadows of his brain, slipping through his fingers like sand every time he thinks he's close enough to hold?

"Okay." Eddie says it like he's taking a punch.

"Is-is that, I mean, th-that's okay, right?"

"Well, I don't know if I'd classify sleeping with your ex as okay." Eddie makes some sort of noise. Half anguished and half furious. "Where the hell does he get off—" your bedroom, Buck thinks deliriously "—hooking up with the guy who's heart he broke?"

"He didn't break my heart, Eddie." Says it. Realises it's true.

"Oh, yeah, sure."

"He was scared I was gonna break his, remember?"

"Dumb," Eddie says succinctly. Buck snorts.

"I'm not getting back together with him or anything. It was just a one time thing. You don't have to worry about me showing up on your doorstep to brood again."

Silence. Again. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.

"I think I'd be okay with it, if it brought you to my door," Eddie whispers.

Tears sting in Buck's eyes. He presses the bottom of his phone into his forehead until it begins to hurt. Clears his throat.

"How's the fixer-upper?"

Best friends. Nothing more. Nothing less. But.

#sami rambles #okay i'm half asleep so this is probably incoherent and i'm still fucking reeling but here u go !#911 spoilers #911 show #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buck x eddie #911 fic #911 ficlet #buddie ficlet #buddie fic

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luveline · 7 months ago

Note

Just re-watched the prison Reid arc and whew! Can I request post prison Reid getting to meet his new baby for the first time with a civilian reader? Like he was arrested while reader was still pregnant and she gave birth right before he got out? Maybe have a Diana cameo cause I just love her🤭

ty for requesting! fem, 1.6k

“Do you want me to take him?”

You give Diana a grateful smile. “Is that okay?”

Diana is reedy like Spencer, tall and skinny, but strong, too. She treads the carpet in her moccasins and holds out her arms for the baby, shushing him softly as you pass him over. You’ve had to look after her these last few weeks in a way you weren’t prepared for, but she’s looked after you in turn.

She’s almost completely lucid today. The good news has its hooks in her.

You look out of the window again. The baby coughs in Diana’s arms, a clearing sound after feeding. If she’s gentle with him he’ll fall asleep before Spencer gets home. You aren’t sure what to do, let him sleep or wake him. What would Spencer want?

I want to come home, he’d said, choked up over the phone, so badly. I’m so sorry.

“Are you sure you won’t call him Walter?” Diana asks. “Spencer likes that one.”

“I’m sure, Diana. He liked Jasper, so…” You bite the tip of your tongue until it aches, refusing to cry again. “So I went with Jasper. I hope he doesn’t mind.”

That morning when Emily told you he was coming home, you cried like you’ve never, ever cried. So hard that the baby woke up in his cot across the room and cried with you.

You’d cried a lot after Spencer was arrested, and worse when he was imprisoned. You cried like a baby the day you went into labour because you knew you’d have to do it alone, when Spencer promised he’d be there with you, that you wouldn’t have to do any of the scary parts alone.

It didn’t take long to stop. You’d grabbed Jasper with your cheeks soaked in tears and rubbed his back, that small stretch of warmth under your hand like a lifeline. In a way, Jasper being Spencer’s has made this easier. You’ve had a part of him. It just wasn’t enough to get over missing him. Every bit of joy —you have a baby now, your beautiful boy— has been swiftly followed with an aching sort of grief. Spencer missed his first cry, first bath, the very first time he opened his eyes. You can’t go back.

“They said three.”

Diana doesn’t seem concerned. She’s missed Spencer as much as you have, and you know her worry for him has made her more poorly than she’d otherwise be most days, but the baby helps. “I’m gonna find his bear,” she says.

You bend down, trying to see the corner of the street through the window. Then you remember the last time you left her alone in the kitchen and flinch. “Hey, Diana?” you call.

She’s checking the drawers for the bear. You’re not sure why she thinks the bear would be there, but perhaps that’s where she put it. “Can I make you a cup of tea or something?” you ask her.

“You’re spying on me.”

“Spying implies you don’t know what I’m doing.”

She pats the baby’s back. “I can see why you and Spencer get along.”

It’s a little more than getting along.

She finds Jasper’s bear atop the bread bin, sitting at the kitchen table with him, the bear sat across from him, though Jasper’s already sleeping again.

You put the stovetop kettle on to boil and realise with a start that you can make Spencer a cup of tea at the same time. Your smile is unfailing, then. He really is coming home. The kettle begins whining while you recover his favourite mug from the cabinet, untouched the entire time he was gone.

“How many sugars today?” you ask.

“Was that the door?”

“What?” You’re putting the mug down before you can compute.

“Angel?”

You feel a rush of emotion all over at the sound of his voice. You try to call back to him, but you don’t manage anything more than a catching gasp as you push out of the kitchen and find him at the door. Right there at the end of the hall.

Pale, tall. Arms already opening, half a step as you run at him. He doesn’t complain when your chest knocks against his. He doesn’t say anything at all.

“Hi,” you breathe, pressing your nose to his shoulder. Your eyes stay open —it’s like panic without the fear. He’s really here in your arms.

He squeezes you tightly. So tight you can’t breathe for a second. Then he gentles, his hands rubbing up and down your back out of sync, face falling into yours.

In the kitchen, Jasper makes a croaky crying sound, a stirring Diana calms immediately.

You attempt to pull away. Spencer will want to see Jasper, of course. He hadn’t met his own son. It was all he could talk about for weeks before he went away, and yet—

Spencer just rubs your back. After another half a minute like that, he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You clear your throat.

“Yeah? No one would tell me anything specific, I was worried you might not be alright.”

“Everything went fine.” He holds you to his chest. He smells like cheap soap. “I didn’t– it was really okay. He was easy, like he knew I couldn’t handle any complications.”

“And he–?”

You recognise the undercurrent in his voice. It’s the same thing you felt when they put Jasper on your chest for the first time. “He’s perfect.”

“All ten fingers?”

You pull away. Immediately, Spencer’s taking your face into two hands, his eyes pouring into yours with an intensity that worries you. “He has all his fingers and toes,” you say quietly, “how about you? How’s your leg?”

He doesn’t seem to be able to answer. Jasper makes another noise and Diana’s chair creaks. You turn with Spencer’s hand on your side, watching as she brings Jasper to the door.

“Spencer,” Diane says, like she just saw him yesterday, “you’re late.”

“Sorry, mom.”

He always sounds younger when he talks to her.

“Will you take the baby? I was just making some tea,” she says.

Spencer nods but doesn’t move.

“I’ll take him.” You kiss Spencer on the cheek. Remember you haven’t for weeks and kiss him again. “It’s okay.”

You hold your arms out and take Jasper against your chest. Spencer takes a step forward, stops, hesitating, but when you turn to him with a comforting smile the band holding him back snaps. He crosses the room, breath pulled like he’d stopped as he cranes his head to see his baby.

“Three weeks old today,” you say softly, tipping Jasper back so Spencer can see his face. “He missed his daddy, you know.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Of course I can. I’m his mom, Spencer… And who wouldn’t miss you?”

Spencer shakes his head gently, reaching out to caress Jasper’s full cheek.

“Jasper,” Spencer says.

“He’s been a great baby so far. Doesn’t give me much trouble. He cries all night, of course… but all babies do. He goes down after a while. I’ve–” You swallow the heat of missing Spencer like a barb dragging against the inside of your throat. “Told him you’re coming home. I told him every day, I promise.”

“M’sorry,” he says, pained.

“I know, Spence.” You nudge him. “Time to hold him, honey.”

He’s more eager than you thought. It’s almost like he’s worried you won’t let him have the baby, but it’s like you told him on the phone: Spencer made a stupid mistake, and you still love him. He never should’ve been going back and forth like that, but you get why he did. Wouldn’t you want Jasper, one day, to care about you in the same way Spencer loves his mother? You forgave him the moment he apologised.

“It’s alright,” you say, slotting Jasper from your arms to his, guiding his hand behind Jasper’s delicate neck. “Just hold him. He missed you.”

Spencer sniffles. “I missed him too,” he says.

“I know.”

Diana realises eventually that Spencer being home is a big deal. It’s not her fault, not understanding, but the new baby, her relocation again, her nurse barely gone, and Spencer’s sudden homecoming, it’s probably too much to deal with. She finds you, Spencer, and Jasper on the couch in the living room and frowns at him heartily. “You won’t hug your own mother?” she asks.

“You’ll have to hug me around the baby,” he says, sorry.

She agrees to this without fuss. She caresses his cheek as he’d done for Jasper as she pulls away.

“Thank you for helping out, mom,” he says.

“It was all Y/N, Spencer. You know mothers. We’re strong.”

Spencer looks at Jasper, still sleeping, and then to you, a shade of adoring in his eyes you’ve never seen before. “I know,” he says.

You curl into his side and take a breath. For the first time in weeks, you let your body relax, finding it sorer and angrier than you’d left it the last time you had the chance to check in.

Spencer brings the side of your face to his lips to kiss your weary cheek.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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coconutdays · 11 months ago

Text

consume

s. in a world of ghouls and humans, you've got a crush on a really hot guy with tattoos, but that doesn't mean he's a ghoul right?

w.c. 5.9k

w. fem! reader, ghoul!sukuna! x reader , fluff!, smut!, cannibalism!, gore!

a/n: this is a continuance on this thought of mine :)I just wrote this to get this out of my system :/ don't think I cooked as I usually do! but feel free to indulge in ghoul sukuna to at least scratch the itch.

"is that him y/n?" your friend's eyes widen and she grabs you by the shoulders, staring into the void of your soul "go up to him. now."

you came for drinks with your friends just a couple minutes ago. and you were so unaware until now, that across from you is the random hot guy you always see on your way home.

your friend, the one bolstering you to go up to him, has heard of this crush. considering you can't spend a day without talking about the hotness of this man.

"I-I, " you start to stutter, "I shouldn't. I see him all the time around the neighborhood and he's never so much as bat an eye at me or acknowledged my presence."

"and I do not care," she huffs, turning you around and beginning to push you in his direction at the bar, "no guy is capable of rejecting your beauty when its waved right in front of their face."

you hear her huffing and can probably make out how flushed her cheeks are from going against your planted feet on the ground, scared to go up to the man nearing you, even though its you coming closer. you feel your heartbeat quicken by at least 50 beats and the adrenaline from such a simple act is rushing through your veins.

until you're there. and he's doesn't even move to face you, his eyes just dart to you.

"hi." you manage to choke out.

he smells like like leather and stone cold vanilla. it's a smell you won't be able to get out of your head tonight.

he looks like he's about to sigh and say something to send you walking away, but you speak again before he can dismiss you, possibly, "I think you're handsome and I wanted to talk to you."

"you looking for a quick fuck?" his voice rumbles so nonchalantly as he takes a sip of his whiskey

"no." you answer in a heartbeat, quickly moving your head from side to side as a sign of your counter to the idea, "I don't think I would be this nervous if I was just looking for that."

"Then what are you looking for?" He's suddenly looming over you, body now turned to face you and his early stance of dismissal gone. although you don't know if that's what you prefer now considering this is so much more intimidating. he's squinting his eyes at you just a tad and you can tell he's biting his cheek.

"something that doesn't hurt me." is all you can speak into existence, softly.

he stares at you

he stares at you for a long while, his brown eyes so light, they're almost red. it's intense and you don't know what he's playing at.

he gets up abruptly, the chair that was beneath him screeching, face unnerved when he reaches a hand out expectantly, "your phone."

your eyes widen and you fumble around for your phone before planting it in his hand.

"what's your name," he says as he presses what you suppose is his contact information into your phone.

you hear a ring coming from his back pocket when you answer, "y/n"

"sukuna," he replies back curtly before handing you back yours and moving to shut off his phone. he then takes out a ten dollar bill and puts it on the countertop before turning to leave, "stay with your friends, it's not safe on your own out there."

you hadn't noticed at all that your friend had left you to talk to the familiar stranger, sukuna now, at some point during the interaction. when you turned around, your group was staring between you and the ominous figure leaving as if they were watching a thriller movie and needed a bowl of popcorn to shove their hands into.

when you were on the way home by cab that night, you received a text, that seemed a manifestation due to how hard you prayed for the next buzz from your phone to be from him.

it was a curt reminder that he would meet you outside your apartment--that he also asked for the address of--the following morning so he could take you out. and nothing more. it was so curt, that although he was still inviting you out, you made it your mission to dress your most attractive the next morning.

you notice he's already outside of the door when peek your head out the door early, doubtful of how early he would be, which he was. sukuna had gotten there ten minutes beforehand, at the least. and although you weren't that mentally prepared to be out with him, you sucked it up and tried your best to confidently walk out the door when he noticed you.

"looks like we're both early," you joke a bit shyly, fiddling with the straps of your purse

"if you need more time you can go back up," he says, having straightened his posture from leaning against the wall and now looking at the busying street, as if to stay aware of his surroundings

"no it's okay, I've been ready for about half an hour now," you smile meekly in embarrassment

the comment makes him flick an eye to you, "should have told me."

"for?" you blink up at him, unaware

"for me to show up earlier," he clicks with his tongue before looking to the left and motioning for the both of you to start walking

it's about ten minutes into your silent walk to who knows where that you hear him speak again without previous poking, "you eat breakfast?"

"yes, actually! it was a lot so im still pretty full, considering the time."

"alright," he nods before locking eyes on something and placing a surprisingly gentle hand on the small of your back to maneuver you to your left, "it's here."

and the small entrance he guides you through leads to an immediate splash of greenery

a garden, a large one, surrounded by something you couldn't make out

"it's a bookshop."

and now you could make out the shelves through the surrounding windows

there's a number of different flowers surrounding you and you can't help but dash to a rather beautiful spawn of peonies.

"they're so beautiful!" you bite your lip in excitement, like you'd just seen a puppy. and that's when you spot a small pathway leading to a shrouded bench.

and you get an idea, "do you think they have Takatsuki in there?"

sukuna quirks a brow at you, "you like that insane shit?"

"I like creepy stuff." you blink at him, shamelessly stating the interest of yours

"come on," he juts his chin towards the far end of the garden, where the entrance was

moments later, you come out with a hardcover edition of The Black Goat's Egg you'd been vying for for months, purchased by sukuna, who asked, "that the one you want?" when you said yes, he plucked it from your hands and paid for it at the register.

"thank you." you say in appreciation when you set your purse down next to you on the bench, and flip to the beginning page of the book while sukuna adjusts himself next to you.

the handsome giant says nothing and instead drapes an arm over the side of the bench behind you and flicks his eyes towards the book, waiting for you to read like you'd promised so.

"you'll like it," you smile at him before subconsciously sinking just a little into his personal space and adjusting the book comfortably onto your lap, "ahem..."

you had been reading for about an hour and a half now, and sukuna showed no signs of distaste for the book. he hadn't said a word since the moment you started reading, listening and skimming over the book with you.

"mother's hands carved out the veins beneath his chest, not me. from her nails came the rotten smell of hardened blood. oh this is my favorite part. but I could feel the pulsing of his lungs on my hands. how his heart still beat when I had opened his chest. the breath of life beneath my palms, inhaling and exhaling. my excitement brewed, a woman's touch knew nothing of the enthrallment this brought me-"

grrrrrrrrrr

embarrassing

there's no way in hell your stomach just did that in front of him. you try to mutter a quick sorry and pick back up where you left off, but the moment you open your mouth again after the quick apology, sukuna interrupts you.

"it's time for you to eat."

why did he say that like you were some sort of pet.

he was such a serious speaker sometimes.

while you start to gather your things, sukuna already stands up and reaches a hand out for you to stabilize yourself on.

"I don't think its time time," you say while taking his hand, not wanting to go back to your apartment yet and finish reading yet, "I won't cook normally until another half hour from-"

"you said you liked the same type of pasta the guy was eating in the book right," he cut you off, levitating a hand over your shoulders that simply wooed you into stepping next to him at a comfortable pace while he moved for the both of you to cross the street.

"yeah..."you agreed, catching another whiff of his cologne in the breeze

and that's how you wound up with him ordering a full plate for you and a boring cup of coffee for himself moments later at a restaurant.

"you sure you're not hungry?" you questioned worriedly, eyes searching for any illness on him, scared to grab the fork before you

"I'm cutting, I'll cook at home." he shrugged

"cook what then?" you almost pout, feeling bad that you were going to be feasting in front of him while he merely had a coffee

he looked you dead in the eyes and said before taking a sip of his coffee, "steak."

"ghoul." you shot back while reaching for your fork and making towards the pasta

for the first time, you saw irritation on sukuna's face in the form of a twitch of his nose, "beef. steak."

he seemed so serious and you couldn't help but stick your tongue out playfully, "I know, but you might as well be one if you're that built from so much protein. heh."

sukuna let a tsk out and took a sip of his coffee, "eat your food."

you wound up getting walked home by sukuna later after the meal, a full stomach and new book, both provided by him upon your return.

"thank you again for the book" the corners of your lips quirked up a little cutely, "and for the meal too."

"you still need to eat something later tonight."

"I will" you nod and look up at him earnestly before reaching for his hand and gesturing for him to be level with you.

"goodbye," you land a quick peck on his cheek and let go of his hand, already rushing towards your building door and entering the code in as fast as possible. you couldn't look back, and didn't .

this pattern of dates repeats itself quite often after. sukuna's taken you to what seems like every bookstore in the city and purchased whatever makes your fancy every time. he's had you read for him. he's bought you every sweet and dessert you've wanted. he's brushed a crumb of a macaroon of your lips, carried you bridal style to avoid getting your shoes wet in a large street puddle, the most endearing things, albeit stoically, but

he's never kissed you

you think it has something to do with how stoic he is. maybe there's some sort of damage with him. he's so immersed whenever he's with you, learning and observing you, but it's always felt as if he's keeping part of himself watered down with you.

a hint of snarkiness has left him before, you saw so when a little girl in a park punched an older boy for yanking on her pigtail.

and he never takes you out at night. he hasn't specifically said he doesn't want to go out during the late hours of the afternoon or night, but he always manages to schedule your outings to end before so.

it's why you bite the bullet, and make today's lunch, into a dinner hosted by you, with the convenient excuse that your work asked you to come in for finishing touches on a project you'd be presenting next week and couldn't make it to lunch.

sukuna agreed with no qualms, that you couldn't see through the screen of your phone of course, and even asked if you needed any ingredients.

your chicken had already been in the oven for about twenty minutes when he had knocked on your door--you had texted him the code to your building earlier.

"hi." you breathed, opening the door for him to come in, "I put this chicken recipe I found online to bake. it's supposed to be healthy."

sukuna walked further into your apartment and analyzed his surroundings while you yapped away.

"it's probably not like the steak you eat, maybe less in protein, but I think you'll like it. I don't think I could make steak that good for someone else on the first try..."

"your hand," he slightly quirks a brow up and gestures towards your right hand, two bandages on your middle and pointer finger.

"tomato dicing mishap," you give him a sheepish closed mouth smile while raising your hand up, "it's a bit more annoying than a paper cut. bleeds more than one."

"I could order for here-"

"no! it's okay. I'm done anyway. I need to take out the chicken in a bit anyways." and you move to grab the controller to your tv, "do you have anything in mind you want to watch?”

“the news.”

you slightly furrow your brows, but accommodate to his request then leave the controller on the coffee table, "you see something happen?"

"just don't like not knowing what's going on," he huffs gruffly while eyeing the ongoing news report for the day.

"A ghoul has atrociously murdered and consumed various members of our community. last night's victim is unidentifiable, but his age can be estimated to be about thirty. surveillance cameras near the area show no capture evidence of who could have done this, but reports and evidence point to it being the same perpetrator of the last couple of murders this month-"

you walk to your oven to get the chicken out and start to put on your mittens, "at least it's not girls."

sukuna's eyes flicker towards you, interested in what you're saying, "you should be scared."

you're setting the hot pan on the countertop when you look back at him, eyes clean of any fear, "but he's been eating shit guys."

sukuna turns his body to you and crosses his arms, as if he's about to chew your ear off for saying that, but you continue, moving to plate the food for both of you, "all the bodies they've reported are all well distinguished low life perverts, some have even tried to chase me down when I say no. one of them tried taking a picture under my skirt once."

you place the plates on either side of the dining table for the both of you and sit down, "whatever ghoul that's getting his full with them doesn't scare me. we know he eats a lot, if those guys weren't enough, he'd go for girls already. and before you bite my head off for not being scared, you should know by now that I rarely go out at night, especially not without someone with me. now sit, food's ready."

sukuna eyes moves towards the dining table and eyes your dish a bit wearily as he slides his chair out for him to sit on.

when he sits, you speak again, "I got the recipe from one of those super healthy bodybuilders, so it should be good enough for you. plus, I'm a good cook."

sukuna still stairs into the void, where our plate should be, but he makes for the knife and fork you put for him, "thank you."

and he enjoyed it, you think. he didn't say it was good, but he finished his plate diligently. if he hated it, he would have said something, or shown it on his face.

"I'll wash the dishes," he said when you were about to reach for his plate and instead he took both of yours and got up.

"oh, okay," you observed as he turned on the faucet, his back to you, he looked out of place in the small spot, "I can start putting a movie, you liked when I read Howl's Moving Castle, I have the movie for it."

You looked for a response, and you received one in the form of a nod, so you stood up and sat on the couch, looking through your streaming services.

sukuna finishes faster than you expected

"I need to take a piss," he says as he walks towards the restroom

"okay," you responded without hesitation as you tried to restart the movie considering your streaming service was glitching on you and the movie was already in the ends credits--you watched it that often.

you solved the problem quicker than you thought, because when sukuna comes back from peeing, you've already got the movie paused at the beginning, waiting for him to sit so you can press play.

and when he does sit, it's at a distance from you, which you don't make a comment about because hey, maybe he's just a guy with boundaries.

and it's halfway through the movie that you have barely even paid attention to your favorite movie of all time. the music you always enjoy and look forward to seems to have never reached your ears. the funny antics by Calcifer don't elicit a giggle from you.

"why haven't you tried to kiss me?"

is he even attracted to you? because you have boundaries and you're a woman, but

you want his hands on you for more than just protection or help. you want to know what it feels like to sit on his lap, that you're sure is more comfortable than your couch considering how meaty and large he is.

and now you're in silence, even though the tv must be at more than the recommended volume setting.

"do you want me to?" sukuna asks, still watching the movie, but you can tell his attention is entirely on you

"I wouldn't be saying anything if I didn't want you to..." you breathe, cursing yourself for bringing such an awkward situation upon the both of you. the movie seems as if its not being processed by your eyes even though you're staring at it, too scared to look at him.

the need to backtrack overcomes you and you feel like you need to overexplain your lack of manners and how he should disregard what you're saying when-

he's tilted your chin towards him

and his mouth is on yours

its beyond sensual and you can feel your thighs shift against each other, but nowhere is it an intense roughness.

he's a godsend, you think, right as he pulls away and gets up.

you're dazed and confused as he walks to your door

"I preferred when you read the book to me," he states monotonously while he shrugs his leather jacket on and opens the door.

"I'll send for a dessert for you later." he's halfway through the doorway and his back is to you, "don't finish it all if you still feel full. your cramps get worse with sugar."

"my cramps-"

he shuts the door and you're left dumbfounded in your living room

oh. he must've seen the packaging of your pad thrown in the restroom bin.

later that night, there was a large helping of warm churros that a guy delivered to your apartment building.

you img_786 thank you, they're really good

sukuna don't finish all of it

you I won't <3

and then he's gone

for a month you haven't heard from him

you shouldn't be rotting in your bed this often, but you are. you don't want to frequent out unless its with him. the few bookstores you did know before him, and went to after with him are sickeningly wrapped in the ambience of him.

going out at night reminds you that he didn't like when you were out at night, sending punctual texts about whether you were home or not

the walk home, where you got excited to even see him for a second is a disdainful reminder of him.

and you feel so ridiculed

the last time you talked, it was because you technically asked for a kiss that he ended up giving

but then walking away and going home.

it hurt your ego

you ran out of matcha tea a bit before sundown. it was a calming drink for you, something you'd been finding comfort it especially during this time.

so you left your apartment to go to the grocery store in your neighborhood. it was a weekday, so the streets weren't all that crowded, everyone was already on the way home.

it was a quick trip, you came out with a tin of matcha and a tub of ice cream, but the sun was halfway through its descent back into the night.

nothing would happen. ghouls don't lurk the moment the sun sets.

your apartment is around the corner when you hear a familiar voice.

"don't move unless you want me to eat your kagune."

why does that sound a lot like him?

there was a sort of mushy sound that followed, then a painful groan

or screech, you couldn't tell the the difference from how pained it was

"please sukuna! I-I didn't know-"

a scream followed, along with a grotesque noise

he said sukuna's name? is that-

"AHAHAHAA LOOK AT HOW FUCKED UP YOUR LUNGS ARE! BASICALLY SHREDS IN MY HANDS!"

it's undeniably his voice, but you've never heard him like this.

if you could just get a look, turn your head over the alleyway just a little

you almost vomit at the sight.

the man you had been moping over for the past few weeks had four large tentacles for a kagune, bright blood red and pinning down the man beneath him, who's lungs unmistakably were in sukuna's hands.

he was eating it like it was something easy, like a slice of ham

the other man-ghoul's intestines were spilling out onto the ground

and all you could do was stand still.

"I didn't know she was off-limits!" the ghoul cried, tears running down his half eaten face considering he was missing a piece of cheek.

"doesn't matter," sukuna retorted, digging a hand in again and taking out what looked like a liver, "what were you going to do to her huh?"

he took a bite and spoke with a full mouth in his face, "I know what lowlife creeps like you like to do to girls like her."

"and how are they supposed to stop coming if I let every creep that wanders near her live?"

and upon further inspection, you realize that the guy underneath him spoke to you this morning on the subway. he made uncomfortable conversation about your skirt and you got off the moment he started getting too close to your personal space

unbeknownst to you, you start shaking and your breath hitches

sukuna hears it

when he turns to face you, where the noise came from, his eyes are red this time, the whites blackened. he's breathing hard as he stares you down.

"go. home." is all he snarls menacingly

and no matter how hard you want to plant your feet and say no because you're mad at him, you run back home. the minute that was left in walking home became twenty seconds.

how you wound up at your apartment that fast was a wonder to you. but all you know is that so many things are making sense, but not at the same time.

that ghoul was going to come for you if it wasn't for sukuna. was sukuna the ghoul from the news? had he eaten all those men? god, you can't even remember all the times you've been cat-called or bothered on the street. how long had he been doing this?

"open the door."

you're back to reality at the sound of sukuna behind the door to your apartment

maybe if you pretend you're not-

"I can hear your heart beating, open the door."

"I don't want to!" you try not to yell, speaking as firmly as you can so as to not garner unwanted attention.

"if you open the door," he starts to speak with irritation that so tells you theres a just as irritated smile on his face, "I can explain to you."

"why do you want to talk now?" you stomp your foot on the ground, praying that the inertia stops the tears building on your waterline from falling down your cheeks

"open the door and I'll tell you y/n." he says, patience still wavering

he stares you down menacingly when you abruptly open the door, but you've got your own look to challenge, brimming with almost tears and an anger like no other at how he hurt you

"I told you to not go out at night."

"how long ago was that huh?" you retort

sukuna bites his cheek and enters your apartment, planting himself in the farthest corner of your living room to argue with you.

"you still know better." he gestures a hand to the window, outside, "I don't care if there's still a couple minutes before the sun sets. don't go outside."

"why not, you'll be there to eat anyone who lurks near me."

your nose is scrunched at him in anger and for the first time, it looks like he has nothing to say

"were you the ghoul from the news the other night?" you sniffle

sukuna looks at you with dead irritation, like he has a million things to say, but none at the same time.

"are you trying to keep me to yourself? to eat me on a rainy day, like a special treat? is that why you couldn't bare to date me? because I was just food?"

"no." he bites back, arms crossed, tongue poking through his cheek while his head moves to face the other way

"then?" you waiver, hands dropped to the sides of your body in fists.

"I'm a ghoul," his red eyes dart to you, pinning you under his gaze," you're a human."

"you can't stand that I'm a human?" you step back, hurt

it seems your words confund him to irritation again when he responds, "you just saw me eating someone's lungs."

"he was going to eat me." you reason

"you're an idiot..." he scoffs, tapping his foot impatiently on the ground

"then why are you still here?" you bite back

your retaliation seems to have set him off, because he soon starts walking towards you and pins you under his body and the countertop behind you

"I was born to eat you," he snarls close to your face, "I will find a way to break you. it's nature. every single day, all I can think about is how much I want to sink my teeth into your flesh. does that not scare you?"

"maybe that's because you never tried to take out your urges on me in other ways." you murmur defiantly

the comment makes him stand still, leaving both of your breaths as the only sound in the room.

"you don't know what you're saying." his nose twitches

"neither do you, you've never tried."

his hands are gripping the countertop so hard, you can hear a slight crumble.

but then sukuna's breathing grows ragged and it would have alarmed you, were it not for his following actions.

his arms brings your entire body towards him when he envelopes you in a nasty kiss.

this

this was sexual

his chest grumbles when you stick your tongue into his mouth and he sucks on it painfully

the bliss is so entrancing, you can't even distinguish the metallic taste.

one of his hands goes to envelop your ass and the grip he has is so strong and painful that you think he's made finger sized holes in your jeans.

the moan that leaves you is far too sinful, but he pulls you impossibly closer and grabs you by the back of your legs to pull you up. sukuna then starts walking to the only other door that doesn't lead to the restroom. to your room.

he'd just bitten your lip to the point where you're sure it'd be bruised within an hour when he threw you onto the bed and yanked your pants off. you don't know if he tore them off or genuinely took them off, but all you know is that the sight when he takes off his shirt next is magnetizing. his body is sculpted and defined everywhere, his pecs are huge, his abs scrumptiously lining his abdomen, and his v-line makes you eager to jump on top of him.

but his tattoos, they're the cherry on top. there's two ragged lines, almost as if fangs scraping down his abdomen, and they seem as if they have brothers and sisters reaching to do the same down his pecs and on the small of his neck. you know about the others on his arms, but not these.

"take off your shirt before I rip it off and you start whining about it." he growls while he fiddles with his belt to push down his pants

you follow orders, no care for if he did rip your shirt (in the moment), but eager to have him

the hard on you're greeted with is just below terrifying.

were all ghouls this gifted?

you have a feeling this was just sukuna

"still feel like you can take it." sukuna snarls as he pushes you further up the bed and positions himself between your legs.

you don't even get a chance to make a comment on what he's about to so intimately do before he tears through the fabric separating your pussy from the outside and delves in without so much as a second thought.

not even ten seconds in and your legs are shaking furiously, with no stop to it so as long as he was on top of you

his tongue is penetrating you so deeply and you don't even have time to question if that's a biological feature on ghouls. all you know is that's it's wet and oh so stimulating, so much so, you're screaming and whining

there's no words you can say, you're screaming so much from the pleasure that you instinctively start to pull away from him, but he growls and keeps you in place

he's been staring at you this entire time

with those eyes

mercy be

it's just enough to drag you to the tipping point and your relief washes over you and him, while he drinks it all up ferociously.

you think he's going to stop when it feels like he's licked you clean from your mess

until he doesn't

he goes on

and he goes on for what seems like an hour

you feel you've gone insane, you can't even count how many times he's made you cum since. you've never been destroyed this way.

your voice is gone when he comes up and stares at you, caging you between his arms.

you're not going to tap out, you try to say with your eyes

and he understands, as it seems, hiking up both of your legs to your chest and beginning to run his fat tip across your folds

"remember, you asked for this." sukuna mutters meanly when he pushes in in one go

you thought it was a lie when some girls said their boyfriends were so big, that they could feel their veins rubbing against their insides

it wasn't

even his tip is being molded to by your pussy

"oh my god," you moan painfully, "I can't-i'm gonna-"

"you can," he retorts, starting to pull back and the mere drag has you keening

you think you have the same effect, considering how labored his breathing has gotten and there's nothing left for you to do besides pull him in for a kiss to sedate yourself from the intensity happening below

the single beginning of the contact illicits sukuna's start of a ruthless pace

your moans seem to make him suck on your tongue punishingly every time. and your hands can't find nothing else to do besides drag painfully down his back. you think you might have just hurt your own hands from how hard his skin is.

sukuna stops kissing you while he pummels inside of you to speak

"scream for me."

command or not, you were still doing so

"filthy little slut," he groans through each stroke, "tightest fucking pussy I've ever fucked."

"pussy's fucking mine, you're never going to touch anyone else. if you even try, I'll kill them."

he keeps going like this, on and on and all you can do is nod and agree with everything he says, because let's be honest, who were you to even glance at someone else after this?

you notice purple indents forming where his hands are on your thighs when he leans down to your face and says, "whaddya say princess, you like being mine?"

"mhm," you nod ernestly, and gather the courage to speak, even if it is hoarse, "love it so much sukuna."

"gonna blow a huge fucking load in your pussy," he murmurs to himself more than anything

"plea-please." you moan needing to be as close to him as possible, feeling an idea surface to your mind

"bite me."

if sukuna weren't so depraved and lost in you, he would have stopped. but he keeps going and instead leans closer to hear you

"bite me," you breathe, almost screaming at the end, "just enough for it not to scar."

sukuna keeps staring at you while he destroys your insides, giving no indication as to if he was going to do follow through with your wishes, until he leans down to your chest

you scream in pain and a delicious ecstasy

there's a small little pool of blood coming from your skin and his mouth when you look down. his hips start stuttering too, and it makes you think that this might be his tipping point.

you're so fucked up that it's yours too

before you know it, his pace grows so erratic that you start cumming and pulsating around him sporadically, unable to contain yourself from the pleasure.

and he starts cumming too.

sukuna lifts himself up from your chest and captures your mouth in his, making you taste a part of yourself you never thought you would. he grows weak in the kiss too, while his cum seeps out and pools into you. it lets you nibble on his tongue, an action that him sinking into your body while he gives you a last few weak thrusts.

"ow," you giggle after a moment of silence

sukuna brings his head up quickly, eyes slightly wide and in worry

"how am I gonna wear a bra over that," you laugh, observing the bleeding bite mark over your boob

sukuna looks down at it, "just don't wear one."

"boobs bring perverts."

sukuna rolls his eyes in exhaustion and dips his head into your chest, licking your wound, "you're not going anywhere without me there anyway."

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryoumen x you #sukuna ryoumen smut #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #sukuna ryomen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut

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lnfours · 8 months ago

Text

close to you | l.n

summary: chemical override, ultraviolet, you could be mine tonight ; or having a crush is mind boggling, soul crushing and confusing, but also so exciting at the same time.

warnings: inspired by close to you by gracie abrams, friends to lovers (bc it’s my brand), pining, all the feels, reader is childhood best friends with pietra, fluff, and some language here and there

jordans notes: hi everyone! long time no see (😅) i’m slowly getting back into writing, school has been kicking my ass. i don’t think this is my best work, but i really wanted to get something out for you guys since ive been gone so long! i promise there’s more to come than just this! i hope you all are well!! sending you all my love 🤍

masterlist | listen to the playlist

before you met him, you didn’t think about the color green too often. it was one of those colors you didn’t necessarily love or hate, it was just kind of… there.

to you, it was just one of those colors where shades of it were prettier than the actual color itself. or a color you only really liked during the fall. like how, typically, people only liked the color blue during the summer.

that was until you met him.

the boy with those big, beautiful, slightly blue but slightly green, water-colored eyes. now you love the color green. obsessed over it. thought about it every second of every day. it was crazy how a simple opinion could change in a matter of seconds, all because of those stupidly pretty eyes.

You lie awake on your back, staring at the ceiling. surely it wasn’t normal to obsess over someone this much, right? especially over someone you weren’t even sure would ever feel the same.

sure, you had crushes before, and had your fair share of falling quickly and all at once. it wasn’t an unusual feeling to you, no stranger to catching feelings rather quickly.

but this time around, everything was different. everything felt more intense, more mind-boggling and confusing and pulse rising. the feeling so foreign that sometimes you wish you had never met him so you wouldn’t have fallen so hard so sudden, but deep down you were so glad that you had.

it was the little things that made you wonder what it was like to be loved by him. the subtle glances in your direction, the gentle but lingering touches. you had thought you were going crazy, reading too much into things in the beginning. over-analyzing every little thing that made your body light up with excitement.

until pietra confirmed your suspicions.

“he’s totally into you,” she said, leaning closer to your ear as you watched him from across the room, his head tilted back, nose scrunched and eyes half shut as he laughed about something max had said, which was likely something stupid, “like, one hundred percent, down bad, into you.”

you tilted your head at the blonde, “you think so?”

she scoffed, “more like know so,”

“who told you?”

“no one has to tell me anything,” she said, “i can just tell.”

you rolled your eyes at her, “p, i’ve told you a million times, he’s not into me.”

but she was right. he was one hundred percent, undoubtedly, down. fucking. bad.

ever since the moment he met you at that stupid pub with max and his group of friends, all he wanted to do was get to know you. he didn’t want it to seem obvious when he asked max about you, but he knew no matter what he did it was going to seem obvious. just from the way he looked at you like you hung the stars in the night sky, he was no where near subtle.

he hated to admit it, but he had even done some lowkey instagram stalking through one of his private accounts. he had seen all the pictures of you and pietra, a life long friendship explained to him in front of his own eyes.

and every time his fingers would swipe through your account, all he could think about was how beautiful you were. how your eyes sparkled every time you smiled for the camera, how happy you looked when you genuinely laughed, and how he wished to be the reason behind the gorgeous sound forever.

he wasn’t trying to make it obvious tonight, not wanting to make it well known that he had his eyes on you for a while. but he had lost track at the amount of times you had caught him looking at you, and he swore he had even caught you looking at him first a handful of times.

so when everyone in the house decided that it was the end of the night and started filing through the door, he took it upon himself to make his way over to you. you were talking with pietra, a smile on your face as you giggled about something she had said. the brazilian woman’s eyes landed on him, to which she looked back at you and said something before you turned to look in his direction.

he smiled when your eyes met his, “hey, did you need a ride home?”

your heart threatened to leap out of your chest, “uhm, i was just gonna call an uber, you don’t have to-“

“no, no,” he said, shaking his head, “i insist, really. it’s not a big deal.”

how could you argue with him? those pretty green eyes, that smile, the face. you simply couldn’t. it was impossible. you couldn’t see the look pietra was giving you, but knowing her, you knew it was a look that said ‘go with him’.

and do you did, the cool, crisp autumn air in london suddenly making you wish you had brought a jacket. you had wished you planned for the nightly breeze, wishing you had opted for a long-sleeved shirt for the night instead of the spaghetti strap tank top you had chosen.

as you walked to the car that was parked down the street, he noticed you shivering. he saw the way you hugged yourself, your hair moving with the breeze. his curls danced in the wind and he knew if he was slightly cold, you were definitely freezing.

he tugged off the hoodie before passing it to you, the sound of the doors to the mclaren echoing before he turned to you.

“here,” he said, “it’s a little windy out, i know you’re probably freezing.”

your stomach did backflips as you took the soft black material from his hands, “oh, are you sure? aren’t you cold?”

he sent you a shrug, “i’ll live,”

there was no use arguing with him, so instead you sent him another smile in appreciation before tugging the sweatshirt over your head. it was already warm from hugging his body, and you couldn't help the way the smell of his cologne lingered in the soft material. you had to keep yourself from burying yourself in it, the feeling of being close to him without actually being close to him sending butterflies to your stomach.

the car ride was filled with comfortable silence, music softly playing in the background. he stole occasional looks over at your figure as you looked out the window, the neck of his hoodie pulled up to your face as you watched the street lights pass by. you looked beautiful in the dim light, he couldn’t help himself.

he thought about taking the long way to your house. a simple but effective way to be able to spend more time with you. however, the thought of you being confused and questioning his actions was enough for him to stay straight at the stop light instead of taking a right for the longer way.

he tried not to look disappointed when he reached your house, parking in front of it. he wondered if your roommates were home, if you’d tell them about the fact that he drove you home.

he turned the engine off, unclicking his seatbelt, “i’ll walk you up.”

you nodded, the both of you getting out of the car and walking through the dewy grass up to the wooden door. you fished for your keys in your purse, putting them into the lock before turning to look at him, “thanks for the ride,”

“anytime,” he smiled. he meant it. and you knew he meant it. he’d come get you at anytime of the day, wether it was early in the morning or late at night, he was always going to show up.

you stood there, eyes searching his face. he was so pretty to you, the brown curls that were slowly growing into a mullet to the sparkling eyes that you loved so much. the dimples in his cheeks that appeared whenever he smiled, the slight facial hair he had managed to grow, but your favorite part was the moles and freckles that covered his skin. the ones he had once complained about, but you loved the way they scattered his skin.

you dreamt of kissing each and every single one of them.

“hey, lando! long time no see!”

you both averted your attention, neither of you hearing the door open behind you. in the doorway stood your dark haired roommate, faith.

“hey,” he smiled softly, trying once again to not look disappointed from the way your moment was interrupted.

“we’re having drinks and watching movies if you wanted to join,” she smiled, ignoring the look you were sending her way.

“oh, uhm,” he started, not sure how to answer, “it’s getting kinda late, i dunno-“

“you can crash in y/n’s room, im sure she wouldn’t mind.”

what was that supposed to mean?

you looked over at him, “you don’t have to stay-“

“he’s been gone for weeks, he’s legally obligated,” she said, reaching from the doorway and grabbing both of your arms, “c’mon, liv is making martinis.”

you sighed heavily and he laughed softly at your protest that went unnoticed by her. your other roommate, olivia, stood in the kitchen.

“look who i found!” faith exclaimed excitedly.

“oh, hey guys! just in time,” she smiled, “it’s martini and movie friday!”

lando leaned over to you as the other two talked, “they do this every friday?”

you sighed again, nodding, “unfortunately,” you turned to your roommates, “we’re gonna head up to my room, actually,”

you led lando to the stairs, ignoring the playful teasing from the girls in the kitchen, “oooh!!”

“up to your room, huh?”

you shook your head, opening your bedroom door and letting him in before closing it, “‘m sorry for them, they’re… how do i put this?”

“a lot?” he asked, a smile playing at his lips.

“yeah, we can put it that way.”

he chuckled, sitting down on the bed as you put your things down. he looked around your bedroom, not much had changed since the last time he had been in it. the fairy lights dimly lit up the room, photos littered the walls. the desk that sat in the corner of the room kept your makeup bag and brushes, a mirror sitting in the middle.

he looked at your nightstand, a picture of you, him, max and pietra sitting on the wooden surface. it was a picture from miami, smiles on all of your faces. you stood in the middle, arm wrapped around his middle as you smiled for the camera, his trophy in the hand that wasn’t wrapped around your middle.

“i’m gonna change,” you said, “i might have a pair of your sweatpants somewhere if you wanted to change.”

he nodded, “yeah, that’d be great.”

you turned back to the dresser, opening drawers in search for the pair of sweatpants he leant you one day. the same day he picked you up from the failed date. the one that left you crying outside, swearing up and down that you’d never find love. despite it being in front of you this entire time.

finally finding the black material, you handed them to him, “i meant to give them back, but i just haven’t seen you,”

he shook his head. you could’ve kept them forever and he wouldn’t have minded one bit, “it’s alright,”

you grabbed your pajama bottoms from the foot of the bed, “be right back.”

he changed into the sweatpants while you were gone, still looking around your room. he smiled at the picture of you and your roommates, clearly taken at a party. you wore the prettiest smile he had ever seen, dressed in a black off the shoulder top. it was from the same night he realized he liked you in more than just a friendly way.

the door opening brought him back to reality, his eyes landing on your figure and how you were still wearing the black hoodie he had given you earlier. it brought a small smile to his face.

you noticed his eyes on you, looking down at the black hoodie, “i swear i’ll give it back once i wash it.”

he laughed softly, shaking his head, “it’s okay. it looks better on you anyways.”

you smiled, fighting the heat that was rising your cheeks but it was no use. he joined you on the bed, watching as you flipped through different things on netflix.

“you don’t have to stay, y’know,” you said, looking over at him, “if you have better things to do..”

“i don’t,” he said, turning his head to look your way, “in all honesty, there’s no where else i’d rather be.”

you sucked in a breath, your eyes dancing across his face once again. it was hard for you not to stare, not when he looked so pretty like this. back pressed against your headboard, hair slightly messy, and he looked so cozy. it made you want to wrap yourself around him, lay your head on his chest.

he did the same, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to memorize every single feature, every single imperfection that he thought was still perfect. the same ones you’d argue about, but he still always found adorable.

his voice broke the comfortable silence that had fallen between the two of you, “do you ever have something to say but can’t find the words to say it?”

your furrowed your eyebrows, “like?”

he licked his lips, his attention now fixed on his hands as he fiddled with the ring on his middle finger. you never thought he’d be the type to get shy, almost embarrassed as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

“like, i dunno,” he mumbled, “i just.. i don’t know how to put it, but ever since the moment we met, i’ve found myself just.. thinking about you. thinking about what it’d be like to cross this weird, thin, little line we’ve drawn. if we both just said ‘fuck it’ and dove head first into whatever uncharted territory we’re tiptoeing around.”

his eyes met yours again as he let out a nervous breath. you hadn’t realized you had been holding yours, shock clearly written on your face which made him shake his head.

“never mind, it’s dumb-“

“lando,”

“- i knew i shouldn’t have listened to what max was going on about-“

you rolled your eyes as he kept blabbering away, talking nonsense. your body moving before your brain could comprehend what you were about to do, only catching up when your hands met his jaw and you were suddenly catching yourself a mere few inches from his face.

it was too late now, no going back.

you pulled his face closer to yours, his blabbering coming to a halt when you pressed your lips to his. his brain short circuited, you pulling away before he had the chance to kiss you back.

“‘m sorry,” you immediately apologized, “i don’t know why i did-“

it was his turn to cut you off now, grabbing your chin and pulling you back to his lips. his thumb traced along your jaw, his pointer finger sitting underneath your chin.

you kissed him back after a second of surprise, letting his free hand reach down to grab your hip, pulling you on top of his lap. your hands threaded through his curls, nails scratching his scalp.

when you both finally pulled away, all you could do was smile. giggles and chuckles echoing through the room as you both sat breathless, his nose bumping yours as he tucked a piece of stray hair away from your face.

“so we’re in agreement then, huh?” he asked.

“isn’t that obvious?” you smiled and he shook his head, letting out another boyish laugh.

“how long have you.. y’know, had feelings for me, i guess?”

“since the minute i saw you,” he confessed, “you were the most beautiful girl in the room, a smile that would make everyone stop and stare. it’s always been you, i’ve just been too scared to tell you.”

you smiled again, heart fluttering in your chest. all the dreams and wishes you spent with him on your mind, it was all finally paying off, “it’s always been you for me, too. i thought i had been way too obvious, but clearly i wasn’t obvious enough.”

“we were both too oblivious,” he said, moving more hair from your face, “but it’s okay, we’re here now.”

you were convinced your smile was never going to be wiped off your face, “kiss me again,”

“with pleasure,” he mumbled, lips finding yours once more as you melted into him.

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seresinhangmanjake · 11 months ago

Text

About Time

Tyler Owens x Childhood Friend!Reader

Summary: You’ve been Tyler’s best friend since childhood, but a near-death experience makes him realize he feels much more for you than friendship and he shouldn’t have allowed himself to deny it for so long.

Warnings/Notes: cursing, mild angst, mostly fluff, typos

Words: 2300

Masterlist

It was when he almost lost you that Tyler knew he was in love with you. When he was forced to play tug of war with the violent winds to keep you in his arms. When he felt your chest move against his with your shallow, rapid breaths. When he heard his name, a soft whimper from quivering lips.

“T–Tyler…”

He tightened his grasp on your waist and mumbled, “I got you, darlin’. Just don't let go.”

At that moment, he didn't know if he could protect you, but the alternative was an unbearable thought. Living without you was unimaginable, unacceptable, so if the winds planned to take you, they would have no choice but to take him, too. Then at least you'd be going together.

He’d always felt something for you, and he understood that he probably always would, but he'd been unwilling to give it a name more intense than a teenage crush that just happened to last well past its expiration date. And while your perpetually growing beauty and intoxicating laugh made it hard for him to tame what he continued to feel, he’d managed.

But that fear of imminent death—more potent than ever—tapped into the depths of those feelings he’d been swallowing for more than a decade. The abuse of pelting rain and flying debris paled in comparison to the overwhelming storm breaking free from the neglected portion of his heart.

Once disaster moved along, you looked up at him with wide, weary eyes, and he couldn’t think clearly past the repetitive chanting in his head: ‘I love you, I love you, I love you’. Adrenaline was rushing through his veins, overpowering every other sense of logic and reason. He pushed strands of damp hair from your face, cupped your cheeks, then leaned down and sealed his lips to yours in a deep kiss. The first kiss. A kiss that typically has a much better outcome than what followed.

He hasn't seen you since that day. A week has come and gone and not one glimpse of your face, and now he’s more desperate for the sight than he’s ever been before. Missing you when you’re not around is far from new, but having released his feelings, the all-consuming sensation is worse. It’s harder to tolerate.

You're avoiding him, he knows it, but he supposes that can happen when someone kisses their best friend with no prior discussion of deeper feelings. It's not what he would do were the situation reversed—he'd still be all over you, kissing you back, smiling, never letting you go—but you've chosen to handle things quite differently, and in doing so, has left him no choice but to respond accordingly.

—

“Mornin’,” you hear, nearly dropping the pail of milk you’d been collecting all morning. Eyes darting to your right, you find Tyler sitting in one of the living room's quilted armchairs. Your heartbeat stutters.

When you turn your head to the left, your mother is leaning against the kitchen countertop, her fluffy robe tied around her body and a cup of steaming coffee in her hands that she brings to her lips as she reads the newspaper splayed out beside her.

“Mom, what is Tyler doing here?”

She glances up, swallows, and swipes her tongue across her bottom lip to catch the remnants of caramel-colored liquid. “Oh gosh, dear, he must've snuck in,” she replies, feigning ignorance. “But I’m not one for kickin’ anyone—especially not a fine, young man—off my property, so I guess he’ll just have to stay.”

With a huff, you set the pail down on the breakfast table, knowing your mother will take care of it, and shoot her a glare before making your way to the living room. Tyler stares up at you. You cross your arms and nudge your head toward the storage barn just behind the house where the two of you used to hold your late-night meetings when you were children, and later, teenagers. Many nights you spent in that barn after Tyler had snuck out of his parent’s house and chucked a pebble at your window to wake you.

Tyler nods and follows you out the back door to the large structure that protects your privacy from the prying ears of the woman inside the house.

“We gotta get you a new phone, darlin’,” Tyler says to your back once you're enclosed in the barn. “The one you've got doesn't seem to be receiving my calls…or texts…or elaborate voicemails.”

“Tyler…” you sigh, twisting to face him.

“You know we gotta talk about it,” he says. And he’s right, despite how the complicated element introduced into your relationship is entirely his fault and so you shouldn’t have to owe him the time of day until you're ready to give it. “You didn’t have to run away from me.”

“I didn’t run.” Tyler’s eyes follow the movement of your arms wrapping tighter around yourself and he swallows hard. “I walked.”

“Speed-walked,” he counters. “Borderline jogged.”

You groan, your tense shoulders sagging. “Tyler listen, I just–”

“Do you really think disappearing on me was a fair thing to do?” he interrupts. “I’m your best friend.”

Your jaw drops at the audacity. Not surprising, really; Tyler’s always had a way of wording things that gets under people’s skin, but out of the two of you, he is the last person who should be doling out the criticism.

“Fair?” you huff. “You’re the one who–”

“I mean, what was so wrong with it?” Long fingers slide through his blond hair. ��Can you honestly say you’ve never thought about me in that way? It hasn’t crossed your mind once? No sex dreams? Nothin’? ‘Cause I’ve been wrestlin’ with it since fuckin’ high school, but ok, sure, fine.”

“Ty–”

“And I know it was unexpected but was it really that shocking? Don’t you think we’d be good together? I think we’d–”

“For fuck’s sake, Tyler, will you let me talk!” you snap, your voice carrying throughout the barn.

If you were trying to preserve your privacy, you’ve definitely failed now. Half of town probably heard you and they’re nothing short of a mile away, but at this point, Tyler has pushed you well past caring. Let them hear. Let them know what’s going on between you. They all saw him kiss you anyway.

“We nearly died,” you continue. “People around us did die.”

Tyler’s face breaks down and you instantly regret your words. You know he stuck around after you left. You know he helped everyone he could in the aftermath of disaster while you let your emotions override your system and ran home to cry to your mother over how he just rocked what was your very steady relationship.

“Look,” you sigh. “Even if I wasn’t thinking about death—and that is a massive ‘if’—I told myself a long time ago that you are my friend, just my friend.”

Tyler’s hands settle on his hips. His eyes fall to the floor and his back teeth clench. “Why?”

“Because I repeated it so many times in my head that it solidified,” you tell him, throwing your arms up. “You know why Bradley dumped me last year? And Pete a couple years before that? And Bobby back in high school?” you ask. “Because of you. They all sensed this weird…energy…from you. All of them. Do you know how many times I had to tell them they were crazy? Do you know how many times I had to tell myself that I was crazy whenever they brought it up to me and I actually considered the possibility of you feeling that way?”

You know exactly how many. Bobby had mentioned it five times before he decided he was done; broke it off with you right before prom and scoffed when he saw that Tyler had stepped up as your date. Pete was shorter-lived; asked you about Tyler three times before he said he could see which way the wind was blowing and had no interest in getting in between anything. And Bradley held the record at seven, each time making the fight outdo the one prior before he was simply fed up with the friendship you refused to sacrifice. Three boyfriends have ditched you solely because of Tyler, and fifteen times you had to talk yourself down from the jolt of excitement you got from imagining him loving you.

Taking a deep breath, you say, “You don’t just get to kiss me and not let me sort out my thoughts for five damn seconds.”

Tyler’s head snaps up, jaw ticking and eyes blazing. “Five seconds?” he spits. “I haven’t seen you in a week. That’s the longest we’ve gone since I graduated.”

“This isn’t just about you; how you feel; what you think; what you want.”

“Then what are you tellin’ me?” Tyler asks.

The light quiver in his voice unnerves you. Not because you aren’t used to him expressing himself to the fullest—and if he’s ever going to be vulnerable with anyone, it’s with you—but that quiver is typically the trigger for you comforting him, taking him into your arms and holding him, letting him wrap himself around you until he feels better and is ready to stop. For some reason, you never noticed how long he would stay tied to you when you gave him the chance.

“Are you feelin’ like this is it?” he continues. “Are you wantin’ us to be done?”

And suddenly, you’re irritated again. You can’t stop the roll of your eyes. In no universe would you ever be done with Tyler Owens, and the fact that he would entertain otherwise is asinine. “Don't be dramatic.”

“Well, what do you expect!” he shouts. “You’re actin’ like I’m about to lose you!”

“I didn’t say anything like that!”

“But you're mad that I kissed you!”

“Damn it, Tyler! I am not!”

Green eyes widen, his breaths heavy from his heaving chest. His mouth opens then closes then opens once more. “You’re—” He licks his lips as you watch him grasp for words. “Then why haven't you called me back?”

You shrug. “I don't know. We've never fought before, and I thought you'd be pissed that I walked off, which clearly you are, so…”

“That’s not true,” he says, moving to take a step closer to you before thinking better of it and staying put. “I haven’t been pissed, darlin’, just terrified. And missing you. And…wanting you.” Heat flares your cheeks, forcing you to tear your eyes away from the desperation in his. “But I’m sorry. I wasn’t tryin’ to…I mean, you left and I thought…”

You shake your head. Whatever he let himself think, he was wrong.

The silence that settles over you is thicker than you're used to in his presence. You're used to laughter and jokes, sweet comments and banter. Tension zings in the space between your bodies, but it's pleasant, electrifying, invigorating. You feel the full impact of everything that was tucked underneath the stress and anxiety of barrelling through such a hard conversation.

Tyler feels it too. His face shows it. His eyes you can only describe as heatedly glittering as he stares at you staring at him. His brows are pinched from frustration of a different kind. It's his lips, though, that reveal his thoughts better than any other feature. They're softly parted, glistening from a swipe of his tongue like he's ready to lock them to yours at any second. Like he needs to be ready just in case you give him the go-ahead so he can kiss you before you dare rescind your permission.

“What are you thinking?” you ask, words quieter than you meant for them to be, but Tyler hears you.

His chuckle is short, half-formed, partially overtaken by the exhale of a breath. You detect a slight tease, as if you should already know the answer to that question.

“That I wanna kiss you again,” he says. “So fuckin’ bad.”

The corners of your mouth struggle not to quirk upward. “Tyler.” He hums. “You know what it means if we do this, right?”

He nods. “We can’t go back,” he says. “But darlin’, I don’t wanna go back. I wanna keep on goin’...with you.”

“Everything will be different.”

“Not everything. We're still us, we'd just be kissin’ and touchin’ and, you know, doin’ other stuff,” he replies with a smile. “Hopefully.”

You picture Tyler standing before you as you have secretly wished you could have him for years—bare and muscled and grinning and telling you he loves you—and for the first time, you aren’t awash with guilt and shame. It feels right to think of him like this. Natural. There’s a soothing ocean of serenity flowing under the flames of desire, and it hits you that this was probably inevitable. All the pieces were there—friendship, trust, love—all there was left to do was act on it.

“You won't change your mind?” you ask, stepping to him.

At your question, distress takes over Tyler's face, but it melts into a grin once he notices your smirk. He closes the remaining distance between you and takes your hand, carefully interlocking your fingers.

“No chance,” he tells you.

“Ok,” you say, nodding. “Well, if you’re absolutely sure, then I guess it’s ok if you kiss me agai–”

Your chuckle is muffled against his lips. His fingers untangle from yours and he guides your hand to rest on the back of his neck so he can cup your cheek. His free arm coils around your waist, pulling you in closer, and your body melts into his. Your brain fuzzes. You lose all awareness of your surroundings. You think you might just stay like this forever.

----

Tag List (if you wanna join)

#tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #twisters #glen powell #tyler owens fic #glen powell fic

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hellowoolf · 16 days ago

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something, somehow, someday

prologue: aurora borealis | prev | next | series masterlist

series summary: you know you will love satoru for the rest of your life, but when you wake with his cursed energy in your navel there is no option but to flee. what future is there for a child of a god? at 18 satoru is without you, and you make off with a piece of him you hoped he'd never meet.

pairing: secret baby daddy!gojo x reader

tags: secret child trope, angst (lots), eventual fluff, eventual smut, hurt/comfort (but like…no comfort yet)

a/n: i've been gone SO long and i don't really have an explanation. to add insult to injury, this isn't the fandom i used to write for. i'm sorry. i hope you like it anyway :) also, as is tradition, thank you to @indiewritesxoxo, @sixeyesonathiel, @shokocide, and @kunareads, who have crafted some really special pieces that inspired me to post again :3

18+! minors dni <3

~~~~~~~

2006

SATORU wakes that morning to the orange glow of the sun on his face. it is unseasonably warm for april, or it feels that way in his first moment awake to the day. the slats on his window cast shadows down his body, and his face, pale and godly, is made hot with the beams in between. this dorm room is always most homely at night, he always thought, though this moment, basking feline in the warmth and believing you’re next to him, suits him nicely. you’re not next to him, of course. but he does not notice at first.

“good morning,” he whispers with a rasp, turning to you—or, really, where you were last night. but he sees it now. you aren’t there.

the truth is, he has no reason to believe you’ve gone in the final sense. you could be off training somewhere, or tending to your koi. you’d conjured them freshman year when he bet you ten thousand yen you couldn’t. your kneecaps made little craters in the dirt, watery next to the creek in the woods neighboring jujutsu tech, and your fingers fanned steadily out as you made them; colorful things, a little unnatural, and beautiful, satoru thought, all of you. he loved that you didn’t tremble with the weight of life-making. he’d paid you gladly. it was the first time he loved you, actually. yes, you could have been out watching them spin around each other and the gray rocks, but somehow he knew.

so unlike you, his hands shake immediately as he scrambles upright. there’s a note on his bedside table and he hardly keeps himself from tearing the thing apart as he grabs for it. his heart lurches for crassness to ease the blow: fuck, he thinks. he is afraid. the note stays wrinkled in his closed palm a moment, before he turns it open.

what he thinks first is that he hasn’t seen your handwriting before. it feels so intimate, it wraps around his wrists, there’s a stickiness to it. your letters swoop and scratch and he thinks, even before he processes the words, that he may die here, looking at your handwriting for the first time. god, he wants to touch you again, he wants to see your body.

i’m sorry. don’t come looking for me

satoru is a cosmic thing, he has always known it, the world comes to him and bows. and mostly he has relished in this unending power, in the sense that he himself has tipped some scale somewhere, in the knowledge that when fate decides she tells him first. but for the first time in his life, he hates that he was right.

~~~~~~~

YOU had labored over it: i’m sorry, don’t come looking for me. don’t come looking for me, i’m sorry. the scrap of paper dampened a little with the sweat on your palm, and you could only hope it would dry by the time he’d see it.

you’ve always done everything after great deliberation. learning your family’s technique from your grandmother, estranged from the rest of the family, coming to jujutsu tech to make use of it in combat, becoming so entangled with satoru as you are. it was with great thought, all of it.

it has been your most detrimental weakness in training. you cannot decide quickly. your jujutsu, a mostly docile thing you fear you may have mutilated to violence, heaves the natural cursed energy from the earth and carves life from it. flowers and branches and the koi fish you’d made for satoru, you borrow the soul of it to play god. you suppose that’s part of what you loved about being with satoru. with him your little godliness was negligible, and in that way you could forgive yourself some. yes, cast out from your family as your grandmother before you, it felt so blasphemous—or they’d told you that, anyway—to hold earth in your hands and squeeze. but with satoru you were hardly a sorcerer, the sound of his power so deafening your ears ran red with it. you loved that. you love him.

not that any of it matters now. no, cold and beside him in the dead of night you must make this decision now. i’m sorry, don’t come looking for me. don’t come looking for me, i’m sorry. the light will crest over the horizon soon enough and satoru will wake, and you know he’d never let you leave. as soon as he sees you he’ll know. this energy is not like yours, bears only a passing resemblance to you. mostly, damningly, it looks like him. he’ll know. you bear a palm over your stomach.

in the end, you scribble: i’m sorry. don’t come looking for me. mainly because you aren’t sorry that he shouldn’t look for you. but also because you love him so terribly and you don’t want him to be hurt; you want to break him softly. it will break him, you know. you have never suspected he loves you in the way you want, but you have always asserted that he loves you in the way you deserve. it is friendly, and sometimes lustful, and so gentle, and so you insist upon hurting him as unfatally as possible. already you can hardly bear the rest of this great mess.

the night is cold as you step into it, though you know by morning that the sun will heat the smooth tiles that make up the main walkway. your shoes, special tools that keep you from cannibalizing the cursed energy in the floor beneath you, click against the stone. am i doing the right thing? you don’t know where to begin. leaving this way is only the latest awful and unforgivable thing you have come upon to do. you suppose the first would have been falling in love with satoru and letting him take you to bed, though what else was there to do? what else but him? no, you don’t regret that part at all. the gate marking jujutsu tech’s opening passes over you and you step into the mouth of your decision: you are leaving. you cannot return. you haven’t cried yet but the tears well, furious with you and terrified for something like the first time.

you turn back: a terrible thing. this place you’ve loved blinks back at you. satoru will wake soon, you think, to read your note and hate you. you hope he hates you, for the sake of them. you look to your torso. a part of you is stunned that the cursed energy emerges this early, though if you think about it a moment longer, you suppose there’s no reason for surprise. you can almost feel it, an aurora borealis in your skin, and the resemblance is damning, truly.

~~~~~~~

a/n: i don't have much to say other than thank you for reading and i hope you liked it!! <3<3 hoping to get the next part out by this time next week :P

#jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #jjk smut #gojo smut #satoru x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #something somehow someday

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rewiringtoheal · 3 months ago

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My Soul Aches For Your Touch

Natasha Romanoff x GN!Reader

Summary: Reconnecting with a spouse can be challenging, especially when children and mundane tasks take up so much of the day. Sometimes you have to do something drastic in order to shake things up.

warnings: 18+, minor DNI, Reader has a penis, smut.

A/N: This one is a labor of love, nervous to release it into the world but happy it's complete. First time writing anything like this. I tried my best.

Natasha stared at herself in the mirror. The woman staring back at her had softened quite significantly with the domestic life she has been leading. Long gone were the days of powerful thighs and toned arms from countless hours spent in the training room. She knows she still looks beautiful, shapely even but she can’t help scrutinizing the ways in which she has changed. Not just physical changes but the emotional ones as well. The once unphased Black Widow now a mother and wife who wears her heart on her sleeve. She was barely on the cusp of 35 yet she sometimes felt like a has-been stuck in the same boring routine; having traded in saving the world for morning school drop offs.

Don’t get her wrong, she loves her life. She has everything she had ever dreamed of and never truly dared to hope for. The most amazing spouse and two children who mean the absolute world to her. The changes that have been made to her mind and body over time are a testament to them. And the prolonged feeling of being loved and safe; they have instilled within her. But there was something missing in this wonderful life that left her feeling unfulfilled. A silent yearning to feel desirable again.

She needed a change of pace, desperately. Nothing too drastic, just something to knock her out of the rut she’s been in. If she is honest with herself, she wants to feel like her younger self used to; powerful and untouchable. A world renowned spy with a sexual prowess that rivaled none; making men and women alike beg for a chance to warm her bed.

Which is why despite her nerves she has decided to go through with this tonight.

She finishes styling her signature auburn curls, the soft waves cascade down her back and shoulders, framing her face in a way that brings attention to supple lips coated in a subtle pink lipstick. She went a bit lighter on the mascara and eyeliner as well, wanting her natural features to shine through, and the green of her eyes had definitely become the star of the show. She smirks, trying to emulate the confidence that used to be second nature to her.

Before the feelings of embarrassment could take root and she lost the will to continue this facade, she turned on her heels and strode into her closet, determined to find an outfit that would turn heads tonight. She wanted something that showed off her sex appeal; which she knew she still possessed. It just wasn’t something she flaunted anymore.

She wanted something that was sexy yet sophisticated, settling on an understated black dress and a pair of matching pumps. The light pink lingerie set she had underneath would be quite the surprise for whoever would be finding themselves in her bed. She hopes the discovery makes their heart race.

She felt a flicker of guilt twist in her stomach at the sensual thought, or perhaps just her nerves continuing to act up. Natasha compartmentalizes those thoughts away as she dresses quickly. It was sister’s night this evening and Yelena’s girlfriend’s family was hosting a bit of a soiree. And her goal for the evening was quite different to her baby sisters.

She took one last glance at herself, making sure she looked put together. She smirked again, this time she truly felt like her old self. For the first time in a long time she felt sexy and emboldened; it was a nice feeling. She turned to leave the walk-in closet, pausing at the entryway, her eyes briefly catching sight of her spouse's dirty boxers haphazardly thrown into their laundry basket. They’re covered in crocodiles with little sunglasses on them. The sight makes her heart pang with sorrow as she fiddles with her wedding ring, taking a deep breath she wiggles the ring until it slides off her finger, before placing it in her jewelry box.

The front gate alarm pings, signaling that Yelena and Kate have arrived. She shakes the anxious thoughts from her mind not wanting to think about this any longer; steeling her resolve she makes her way out to her ride.

xXx

You were in desperate need of a thrill. The life you had was one you coveted but the mundane activities that were expected of you everyday had grown rather dull. You knew that doing the same old things wouldn’t get you the results you wanted so you decided to shake things up. Instead of heading straight home after a long day of work, you decided to take up your client's invitation to her fancy soiree.

After greeting Eleanor Bishop with a warm hello, you head straight toward the bar, asking for an old fashioned with an orange twist. You take a slow deep drink, enjoying the first initial burning sensation that hits the back of your throat. Gently, leaning against the bar you allow the alcohol to settle into your system and just bask in the ease at which it puts your mind.

You let your eyes sweep across the room looking for a woman that peaks your interest. You knew you weren’t going home alone tonight; a beautiful woman warming your bed may just be the key to shaking up the monotony. You take note of several gorgeous women, some twirling around the dance floor and some chatting amongst peers, when a shimmering waterfall of red caught your eye.

Your eyes zero in on her, she’s mingling with a group of socialites, an heiress in her own right perhaps. Not an outlandish guess with how she carries herself and the beauty that radiates from her. She’s made to be the center of attention and you can tell she revels in it. It’s not long before the belle of the ball is asked to dance. Some tall aristocrat; he’s handsome you suppose if you're into that sort of thing.

You take another swig of your drink, allowing yourself to watch her move across the ballroom. The embodiment of grace as she dances.

You were mesmerized by the woman, and there was no way that pretentious asshole was going to be the one taking her home. Her fiery mane shimmered underneath the ballroom lights, the soft curls bouncing with every graceful movement. The black dress she was wearing had your mouth watering; every movement allowed you to see delicious amounts of ivory skin. Her curves were on full display; the thought of sinking your teeth into that voluptuous backside had you weak in the knees. And that damn smirk she’s wearing almost does you in; you swear she’s taunting you.

You want to worship every inch of her. It’s what she deserves being that damn fine. And you know for a fact that this yuppie won’t get on his knees for her.

You shoot back the rest of your drink, before setting down the empty glass, and making your way towards them.

“Excuse me, sweetheart, would you mind if I cut in?” You say almost breathless.

She’s even more gorgeous up close.

xXx

She had seen you walk in a while ago, the warm greetings exchanged with Eleanor Bishop and the casual way you were leaning against the bar aroused her curiosity. And the form fitted black suit you were wearing aroused more than that. You looked dashing to say the least.

She felt your gaze linger on her as she socialized, it exhilarated her to be watched in such a shameless manner. You did nothing to hide the desire, lighting up your eyes, your intentions quite clear.

She smirked before accepting an invitation to dance from a rather stiff businessman, wondering just how far she would have to push you for you to be the one asking. Never taking into account that you would interrupt them. It was bold of you and she was pleased with your actions.

With your offer accepted the nameless man left without making a scene; just slight disappointment in his eyes. She didn’t even feel a hint of remorse as you took her in your arms.

She felt a shiver run up her spine as you took command of the dance. Leading her around the ballroom with a finesse that comes with years of practice.

The two of you moved through the dance with a sensual grace, your bodies flowing together seamlessly, the passionate embrace amplifying the flirtatious atmosphere.

The warmth of your body, the smell of your cologne, and your hungry gaze had Natasha burning with desire. She hadn’t been this turned on in quite some time.

As the dance was coming to a close she decided she couldn’t deny herself the pleasure of your company any longer.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

You nodded without hesitation, grabbing her hand with tenderness as you led her out of the ballroom. She waved to Yelena before they got too far away, letting her sister know where she was headed. The blonde was grinning ear to ear.

xXx

The car ride to their final destination was taking entirely too long. She was enchanted by the way your tongue darted out to lick your lips and the subtle bouncing of your left leg. It was one of the only indications she had that you were just as impatient as she was. The other clue she had to go off of was the generous outline of a semi-erect penis making itself visible in those deliciously tight pants of yours. She needed the fire burning between her legs to be satiated this instant. The hand caressing Natasha’s inner thigh was not helping matters.

“Pull over.”

“Sweetheart, we’re almost there.”

She didn’t care. All she cared about was the deep ache she knew could only be satisfied by your cock. As need and lust consumed her; every rational thought left her mind.

She grabbed the hand resting on her thigh, slowly dragging it up to stroke against soft pink panties, the groan you released let her know you could feel how wet she was.

“Pull the damn car over, now”

“Fucking hell, you’re already so worked up babe.” You husk, as you pull over onto the side of the road, safely parking.

Natasha slides into your lap in a hast, “You have no idea.”

xXx

You situate the seat so she’s comfortable, before pulling that tantalizing mouth of hers into an earth shattering kiss. She whimpers as your assault on her mouth turns frantic; wanting nothing more than to consume her. Delicate hands weave their fingers through your hair, as you work to undo the zipper on the back of her dress. You break away from the kiss briefly to peel it down Natasha’s arms, and to pull the black material down her body to pool around her waist. Fuck, the lacey pink bra covering her breasts makes your cock throb with need.

Your eyes watch goosebumps erupt on Natasha’s heaving chest; as her flushed skin adjusts to the cool air. She tilts your head up, kissing you hard and desperate. Your tongues massaging one anothers in tandem, every once in a while pausing to suck and swirl your tongues into the caverns of each other's mouths.

Your arms slip around her sides, fingers caressing the smooth skin of Natasha’s back before unclasping her bra and shimming it down her arms. Discarding it without care as your lips leave that additive mouth of hers to kiss along her jaw. She squirms in your lap, as you nip and lick your way down the line of her throat, leaving a trail of red marks in your wake.

You pull back and admire the intoxicating woman before you. Those gorgeous emerald eyes that bewitched you from across the ballroom are now blown black with a carnal hunger and her lips are kiss swollen. That lovely shade of pink lipstick is smeared down her chin. And her neck is painted in your love-bites and saliva. She looks wrecked. You could come at the sight alone.

“Are you going to stare at me all night or are you finally going to touch me?”

She looks pleased by your admiration, despite what her words may otherwise imply.

“Sweetheart, I’ve been touching you but I promise you’re going to be able to feel me everywhere in a second.”

The pair of soft full breasts attached to this divine being are too tempting to ignore any longer. Your lips descend on her right breast with utter devotion, your tongue flicking over a pretty pink peak; coaxing it taut. Before pulling her nipple into your mouth and suckling.

She arches into you with a breathless moan, offering more of herself up to you with fervor. As you show equal amounts of attention to each breast your hands caress Natasha’s sides, slowly making their way to her backside. You drag the dress up her hips and expose her center, sliding her panties to the side, your fingers slip through damp curls with ease to massage her clit.

Natasha shudders from the contact, intuitively grinding her hips into your fingers. She revels in the friction for a little while, feeling the pressure begin to build, and knowing that she needs you inside of her right now. Her hands slide down to your belt buckle, yanking it open, you lift your hips up allowing her to drag your slacks and boxers down in one foul swoop. Her fingers wrap around your thickness with enthusiasm; her hand stroking in a firm but gentle caress.

“Hmm, fuck. I need you so bad.” You groan, thrusting into her hand.

“Me too, baby. I need you inside me.” Natasha mewls.

Natasha slows her movements, grabbing your tie pulling you into a passionate kiss, her hips lifting up and with your guidance sinks down onto your cock.

Her back grows taut, needing to take a minute to adjust to the feeling of being so full, before she starts rolling her hips. You grip her backside and begin to thrust up into her. She chants your name as you pick up the pace. Natasha matches your rhythm with vigor, her breath labored as she slams down onto you.

Natasha’s hands find purchase on your shoulders, her fingers crumpling the fabric of your suit jacket as she slides up and down against you. You can’t believe you bothered to get it pressed when this is the only way it should be worn; rumpled and covered in her slick. She rests her forehead against yours, panting into your mouth as your lower halves move in tandem.

She is so tight and so incredibly warm. You continue to pump into her, her slick wet heat engulfing you as you feel the walls of her core beginning to flutter. With determination, you shove your hand between your gyrating bodies, your thumb sliding through soaked folds to massage her clit.

You feel her inner walls clamp around you before she lets out a cry of your name, her nails sink into the back of your head and neck as she comes hard against you. The intense stimulation is too much for you to bear as you follow her over the edge with a grunt.

She continues to keep you close as her breathing begins to mellow out, you sprinkle every inch of bare skin available to you with kisses as she begins to untangle herself from you. Natasha chuckles as she takes in your appearance, your expensive suit is wrinkled beyond repair and your skin is coated in a sheen of sweat. It fills her with a deep sense of satisfaction to have done such a number on you.

Her eyes flick down between her legs, catching sight of the barely visible waistband of your black boxers, straining against your muscular thighs. They are too dull for her taste.

“You know the suit was so sexy on you but I have to say I am not a fan of these underwear.” Natasha says, gaze returning to you and it’s full of mischief.

You look up at her and grin, “Well the next time we fulfill one of our fantasies I promise I’ll buy a new pair of quirky animal boxers. Maybe some polar bears or something.”

She laughed and bit her lip, “Oh, I appreciate the consideration, Detka…” she trails off, lost in thought for a second, “Now tell me more about these fantasies of yours.”

You reach down grasping her left arm, pulling her hand up landing playful nips to the tips of her fingers. “Oh sweetheart, I’ve got so many fantasies revolving around you. Some new ones involving that damn lingerie set. You look so fucking sexy in pink.”

You note the subtle mood shift, the sadness and vulnerability now in Natasha’s eyes, it makes your heart weep.

“Yeah?” She asks tone so hopeful

You knew that the two of you had been stuck in a rut as of late, the monotony of family life not leaving much room for the two of you to nurture your relationship; emotional or sexual. There was a strict schedule for everything concerning the kids and with the long hours you worked, it left a lot of your marriage up in the air. Only really having time for quickies in the shower or watching a movie together at the end of the day. That is if your kids didn’t interrupt the two of you.

When you were young the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other and you know that love changes over time. This however was different and unacceptable to you. Natasha was the love of your life, the sexiest woman in the world in your eyes and the fact that she no longer knew that was gut wrenching. As you look up into her eyes, seeing all the love, hope and desire for you there, you know from this moment on you would do anything to make her feel like the strong, sexy and courageous woman you know her to be.

And after tonight, you know that the fire that burns between you two is still there. All it needs is a little coaxing to ignite it and you were damn sure going to keep that fire fed from now on.

You lift your hand up to caress her cheek, “Natasha, I know our relationship has fallen to the wayside a bit since the kids were born but sweetheart you are still so damn sexy to me. I love you so fucking much. And I am so sorry for letting it get this bad.”

“I love you too, baby. Please don’t put all of this on you. I know I haven’t been making our marriage a priority either…I’m sorry for that.” Natasha kisses the corner of your mouth. “It’s a relief that after all this time you still think I’m sexy.” She chuckles, gesturing to herself with contempt. “I know I don’t look like I used too.”

“The fact that you don’t believe that your fucking gorgeous and that I crave you like a person in hell craves ice water is on me.” You implore her to see the truth in your words. “I am going to do everything I can to make us a priority again. I'm done always putting the kids first. You deserve to be loved and fucked to your hearts content.” Your voice holds conviction.

Natasha yanks on your tie pulling you in for a passionate kiss. “Well in that case…maybe we can take advantage of the kids staying with your mom tonight. You can show me just how much you crave me, baby.”

“That’s the best idea I’ve ever heard.” You help Natasha slide back over into the passenger seat, and get your clothes in order. “That being said, when we get home Mrs. Y/L you're putting your wedding ring back on.” You send her a playful glare, as you restart the car. “If I ever see that finger bare again…there will be consequences.”

Natasha giggles, “Consequences huh?...mhmm.. I’d like to experience that but…” She winks at you. “It was definitely a bit of a risk I took, I'll admit. I won’t be taking it again. Now drive, baby.”

It was an exhilarating night for the both of you. And as you head down the road toward your shared home, it feels like the beginning of a brand new adventure.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #natasha x you #creative writing #scarlett johansson x you #scarlett johansson x reader

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cheriladycl01 · 9 months ago

Text

Fan Zone Fanatic - Lando Norris x Anxiety! Reader

Plot: You love taking the F1 bracelets off of fans because you will play with them whenever you get anxious and they are a source of comfort for you now.

(I literally do this with my bracelets lmao)

One thing you absolutely adored was fan interaction. As much as you got really anxious in large crowds with overstimulating sounds and smells, you loved helping give gifts to Lando and guide him to younger fans with caps pushed to the back and hold his own hand for comfort when he too got overwhelmed from the amount of people yelling his name.

Right now you were at the gates to the paddock and you were walking through hand in hand with Lando. When you saw a load of fans at the entrance.

“Lando! Lando”

“Come sign my helmet please”

“Lando I have something for you”

“Y/N”

Loads of voices came at one, you smile at Lando and nod your head over to the fans starting to drag him over to the fencing.

“Omg Y/N” one cries handing you a pretty generic McLaren hat, you take it to pass to Lando until she shakes her head.

“I want you to sign it! I’ve already got Landos” she smiles and you laugh, loving that people wanted your signature too.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to ruin it!” You smile kindly at her and she nods again. You sign it and then she pulls a clip of the friendship bracelets out.

“Please take one” she smiles and beofre you know it, you have loads of girls gifting you friendship bracelets off their bags.

Before you know it, you have all sorts of bracelets covering your arms.

There was mainly Lando and McLaren ones, but a few Chili or Enjoy the butterfly’s ones snuck their way onto your wrist that when you were showing Lando all of them once you got into the paddock he was laughing so hard.

“I think my fans love you more than they love me if I’m being honest, they’re always so sweet and respectful to you” he smiles as he shifts through the bracelets before he finds one with your name on it that he takes off your own wrists and places it on his own. “This one im keeping” he comments.

“I think I might head to the fanzone today, deck myself out in McLaren merch and just see what happens” you grin and he looks at you with a furrowed brow.

“Are you sure baby? I don’t think that’s a great idea, you’ve never experienced the fans without a barrier or anything …” he offers and you nod your head knowing what your getting yourself into.

“I know but I want to interact and I’m kind of obsessed with these bracelets now and I kind of want more of them!” You nod having made up your mind fully with a small smile matching it.

“Okay baby, but just keep one of the security with you. Just so they can help you out if needed. You don’t have to walk with them but just keep them close yeah? Take Dave, you like Dave right?” Lando says immediately concerned about you.

“I’ll take Dave just for you’re own piece of mind” you tease lightly nudging him before you take his team hat and grab one of his spare team tops.

“How do i look” you say with a twirl before ending with a hand in your hip.

“Beautiful” Lando mutters with heart eyes as he looks over at you.

Lando if he was being honest, never had it so good. You were literally perfect in his eyes. You treated him so well, and there wasn’t a singular moment he didn’t feel lucky to experience the weird and wonderful phenomena we call life.

“Stop it, you’re making me blush” you comment and he just laughs before kissing your cheek and sending you off.

“Don’t be gone too long okay! And check in with me! Please?” He asks.

“Ooooo wait can I buy some hats and get you to sign them please?!? I can hand them out in exchange for bracelets” you grin and before you know it you’ve got Lando signing as many hats as you could possibly fit in one bag.

He ended up signing 60 hats in the span of 20 minutes which is pretty impressive, considering he has to break to make out with you for 5 of those. Lando was an exceptionally clingy boyfriend.

Eventually you leave waving goodbye to him and smiling.

You walk out of the paddock entrance and around to the main gate. Where you’ve got the sunglasses and baseball cap on, it’s kind of hard to notice who you actually are so you were pretty confident that you could walk through pretty happily.

You noticed Dave, not too close and not too far. You walked into the fan zone seeing all the stools and shops with merch from different teams and the smell of the greasy hot dogs and chips.

You were just walking looking through one of the McLaren stands and about to pick up a Lando Norris t-shirt when a small tap was felt on your thigh. You turn round seeing a little girl, maybe 6 or 7.

“Hiya” you smile and the mum asks if you want to trade bracelets. You nod happily and show her your arms of the ones you had and she sees the LN4 one with his helmet design.

“Oh that’s a good one, Landos helmet” you grin and smile at her kindly taking it off your own wrist and putting it around hers.

“Woah you have so many” you laugh lightly seeing up to her elbows covered in them.

“Take two if you would like” the mum smiles and you nod.

“Why don’t you choose one for me, and then I’ll choose another one?” You ask the young girl and she nods excitedly looking over her arms before picking out a Max one.

“Max huh” you grin taking the MaxV33 off her and pulling it around your own wrist.

“I think I’ll take this one too, my goal today is to get one of every driver” you smile and she grins seeing you take the Zhou Guanyu one.

“I also have something I want to give you from Lando” you grin and she looks excited.

You pull out the signed hat and she squeals, looking over the signature.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” She grins and pulls you into a hug. You laugh back and go to offer the mum one, but she politely shakes her head.

“Keep them for the youngsters” she smiles and you nod. The little girl finally lets go and hands the old hat back to her mum before putting the new signed on.

“Awww look at that! You look so cool!” You exclaim and the girl giggles more.

You say goodbye and get back to shopping. You end up buying an overpriced Lando top despite you wearing official staff uniform as of right now and thank the very shocked worker who asks for you picture once you’ve payed. You offer her a hat but refuses as she got one earlier before her shift from the paddock entrance.

You head into the heart of the fanzone where the sims are and all the other interactive stuff they put on for the fans. You can hear music from the massive stage, which is slowly starting to fill up.

20 minutes until Ferrari on stage.

1 hour till McLaren on stage. You knew you were going to go there for the McLaren one.

“Y/N?” You hear from you far left and see 3 girls with two guys behind them.

You smile happily jog over to them.

“Hey!” You grin and one of the girls squeals.

“Do you want some of our bracelets we brought way to many!” The girls admit showing you their bags full of the beaded bracelets.

“How long did this take you guys! These are incredible” you smile looking at all the different colours and types and the fact some had crystals on them. And all the funny messages rather than drivers names.

“Oh it’s nothing, just something we like to do in our free time!” One of the girls nods.

“They’re lying it took them days to prepare these for the race” one of the guys admits and you nod knowing that was far more accurate.

“How many can I take?” You ask looking at them, it was strange because even though these girls looked in their teens and younger than you they were all a lot taller than you. Making you feel kind of strange looking upwards at almost all of them.

“As many as you want” you start to look through. You burst out laughing at one that says Muppet 1 and Muppet 2 in one of the girls bags.

“Can i take both and give one to Lando so we’re matching” and she nods enthusiastically at the thought of Lando himself having one of her bracelets.

“Omg yes! Please please! Do you erm speak to any of the other drivers?” She asks and you nod, you were close with loads of the drivers. Especially their girlfriend as you were a social floater, sometimes you went out shopping with Alexandra, Charles girlfriend. Or going for brunch with Carmen, golfing with Lily or out to dinner with Oscar and his Lily.

“I do, why do you want me to give something?” You ask politely and she nods handing you a T-shirt. You open it up to see a funny print of George Russell T-Posing.

“I’ll make sure when I get back to the paddock to give this to George” you smile and she thanks you profusely.

You got to the next girls bag and find a Yuki Tsunoda One, and a Lando one that was of his Miami win. It had a little palm tree dangly on it and you knew you just had to take it.

And in the last one you picked out a Charles Leclerc and Ferrari one.

“This may seem rude but I don’t want to trade to many bracelets off, I want to keep as many as possible but I have other gifts” you smile and pull 5 signed caps out the bag handing one to each of them.

“They’re signed by Lando” you smile and they all looked shocked and one almost starts to tear up.

“Can I hug you?” One of them asks before you nod and pull her into a hug. You get a group photo before they run off all having really happy faces.

This is why you were so happy to do this, just seeing that smile on random peoples faces knowing you’d made them feel like that was so rewarding.

You walk to the sim racers and see loads of people on them, trying to get in good laps. You were utterly hopeless on Landos at home so there was no way you were trying it here and making a fool out of yourself.

“Girlie! You want a bracelet!” A voice from behind you says and you turn to look.

A girl comes running up to you, showing the clip of beads in front of you.

The afternoon continued like that. You took bracelets and gave people hats in exchange for them. You were thankful nobody had posted the pictures you’d taken with them yet, so it still didn’t feel like you were having people actively come try and find you.

You make your way to the stage seeing it’s pretty empty now that Ferrari have gone and you stand right by the fence where Lando will be able to see you. There’s two guys in McLaren hats next to you, one in a Lando one and one in a Danny Ric one.

“Damn that’s some fossil merch” you joke and they turn to look at you seeing you’re get up. They laugh and nod explaining how they live McLaren but Danny is their driver.

“Who do you support?” One of them asks before his mate bursts out laughing.

“Dude that Lando’s girlfriend” the other one with the DR3 McLaren hat laughs. And you laugh with him before the guys fully takes a look over you and flushes Red.

“I’m so so sorry” he says.

“It’s fine, but of course my driver is Yuki Tsunoda” you tease and they both laugh. You have a nice conversation with them, you’d get Lando to sign their hats when he was on stage.

The guys were really nice, just asking you questions about the paddock on racing and how long you’d followed the sport and it was nice just talking.

However the more people started to fill up the more you got anxious. Unconsciously your hand started to fiddle with the bracelets, lightly snapping them against your skin or pushing the beads from one place to another. The feeling giving you a certain kind of comfort to stimulate you enough that it was a distraction from all the noise around you.

All of a sudden the music gets louder beofre Naomi Schiff comes out to introduce the drivers to the now packed in crowd.

“Hello, how are we all feeling out there? Little warm today isn’t it. We’ll all of you keep hydrated nearest water station is up to your right” she indicates.

“Now without further or do, let’s find your drivers. Here for McLaren, Oscar Piastri and LANDO NORRIS” she calls and both the papaya boys come jogging out onto the stage.

“Hello Lando, Hello Oscar, how are you guys today?” She asks and both of them nod.

“Yeah really good, it’s pretty warm but we’re excited to be here” Lando says and Oscar nods in agreement.

“Yes, I think I’ve drunk 3 big bottles of water and two cans of monster” Oscar jokes and everyone in the crowd laughs.

“Enjoy the summer break?” She asks and they both nod.

“Yeah I got to spend lots of time with my girlfriend in England, and we …” Oscar starts but is interrupted by Lando.

“Oooo girlfriend, your girlfriend” Lando teases making Oscar go bright red in embarrassment.

“Says you, you wouldn’t shut up about Y/N” Oscar pushes back making Lando just laugh. The boys beside you starts whopping and cheering your name trying to point you out and draw attention to the fact your here.

People start to catch on and help to point you out, making you duck your head down in embarrassment as you laugh.

“Oh look Lando we’ve got some fans calling your name over here, oh wait. Is that … Lando is that Y/N” she says holding her que cards above her head to stop the glare of the sun to her eyes so she can get s better look at you.

You smile and wave being very familiar with the woman.

“Oh you’re right, give it up for Landos girlfriend everyone” Naomi cheers and you blush.

“Hi baby” Lando smiles shyly waving at you making you wave back.

“Wait did you chance tops?” He laughs seeing you now in the Lando Norris official team t-shirt. You nod and he just laughs shaking his head.

Before you know it he’s jumped down and is coming over to you. He pulls you into a hug, before signing some stuff around you and going back up to where Oscar is.

“Well, what did you do over the summer. You and Y/N were very present online” she adds knowing you always loved to post online what you and Lando did as it served as memories to share with a wider community.

Also a lot of what you posted have the fans a fix of their delulu needs which you were always happy to do.

“We want to Boa Vista and then we saw Martin Garrix a good friend play in Ibiza, we saw some of the other drivers there too. Went to a Taylor Swift concert, went to Bali and now we’re back here and racing” he grins and you smile at the thought of the summer holidays with Lando.

“Awww well sounds like you had a lovely time and you’re nice and relaxed ready to get racing again. How does it feel knowing how close you are to a championship with Max?” She asks and he nods.

“Looking for a good result this weekend but with my lucky charm here I’m hoping for a win” he nods and after some more questions posed to Oscar and Lando people start to leave the minute they are off the stage.

You keep a hold on one of the bracelets going behind the stage to where Lando is waiting for you. Dave helps you get past the majority of the crowd who some ask for pictures with you and more bracelets are given to you.

You round the corner into the VIP second and a Lando immediately comes up to you wrapping you in a hug.

“That was nice seeing you it there, but I was terrified the whole time with how cramped in you all looked” he admits as he kisses your temple.

“Look how many bracelets I got! Oooo look I have one for you too, a matching one with me” you grin and hand him the muppet number 1 and show him your muppet number 2.

“These are brilliant. I’m happy you enjoyed yourself.” He smiles and walks you over to the car to take you to the paddock.

Going forward you actually wore those bracelets given to you all the time. You and Lando wore the muppet ones everyday but you would change up which ones you’d wear on your other wrist each day but you always made sure you had one especially when you knew it was going to be an anxiety filled day.

The fans would never know how much these bracelets meant to you but you were so thankful.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

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softspiderling · 10 months ago

Text

if you can't take it (then get back) | j.v

summary:

“You sound surprised.”

“I just…” you paused, struggling to find the right words to convey what you were trying to say without outright insulting her heir. But Rhaenyra only chuckled, giving a slight nod, understanding.

“He has been rude to you, hasn’t he?”

OR; Your first meeting with the Crown Princes leaves much to be desired.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader

warnings: jace is a classist guys, idk what to tell you, minimal violence, reader is a dragonseed but no descriptors were used <3 also OBVIOUSLY jace and baela are not betrothed in this fic

word count: 3,9k

author's note: yo to the anon who requested this like a bajillion years ago… i’m sorry it took me so long😔 thanks to my lil goblin master @eldrith for beta reading and being the best sister wife ever🫵🏼🧌

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"Silverwing. What a beautiful name,” you whispered as you gently stroked your dragon’s snout, Silverwing pressing into your hand as you stood in the middle of the meadow in your new dress.

When you had gone into the forest to pick flowers for your mother’s grave, the last thing you had expected was to leave said forest on dragonback, soaring through the skies, a dream come true. It hadn’t taken long before another dragon quickly joined your sides, its rider introducing himself as Addam of Hull, telling you to follow him to Dragonstone.

Before long, you had pledged your loyalty to Queen Rhaenyra and were offered a place to sleep, a position by her side. Only two nights prior, you had been slaving away at a small tavern on Driftmark, not knowing if you’d something to eat, now you’d never go to bed hungry again.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful dragon.”

“She doesn’t understand you.”

You whirled around, only to see Prince Jacaerys stalk his way up to you, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword.

“My Prince,” you uttered, curtsying. You had heard great things about Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, and you felt giddy to be fighting alongside him for his mother.

Jacaerys came to a stop next to you, giving you a glare before he turned to Silverwing. You took a pause, not having expected to be rejected so brazenly, but you swallowed your pride, turning to Silverwing.

“She’s a beauty, is she not?”

You looked at Jacaerys only to see him roll his eyes and you felt a flash of irritation.

“She doesn’t understand you,” he repeated, as if you were hard of hearing. “We speak to dragons in High Valyrian.”

“Oh, Her Grace had mentioned that, but unfortunately I have not gotten around to-“

“Soves, Silverwing.”

Jacaerys seemed unperturbed as he interrupted you rudely, leaving you at a loss for words. Silverwing let out a growl, pushing her snout against your hand one last time before flapping her wings and taking to the skies. You watched as she danced through the sky, a look of awe on your face before you turned back to the Prince, a heavy weight settling in your chest. You took a deep breath, collecting yourself. Surely you were reading this whole conversation wrong. From what you have heard, the crown prince was an exceptional man and no one had ever uttered a bad word about him, or held any grievances.

“I apologize my Prince, if I somehow offended you.”

Jacaerys let out a laugh, but it held no warmth.

“You can refer to pure theft as an offense, yes.”

“Theft?” You echoed, confused. “You must have mistaken me, I am not a thief, I’m-“

“I know exactly who you are,” Jacaerys sniped. “You stole a dragon of House Targaryen.”

Aye, it seemed like you read the conversation exactly right.

“I did not steal Silverwing. I claimed her- she claimed me.”

“She claimed you,” Jacaerys repeated with a scoff. “You are a common born girl, not fit to be a dragon rider.”

Every ounce of grace and manner left your body at the tone of his voice, your eyes sparkling with fury.

“Pardon?”

“It is not your place to claim a dragon,” he hissed out and you sneered at him.

“Oh, my apologies, my Prince,” you exclaimed, voice so biting it was dripping with vitriol as you bowed your head “I did not mean to step on your toes. Let me just unclaim the dragon!”

Jacaerys rolled his eyes at you, his annoyance clear as day.

“That shows how much understanding you truly lack,” he said and you groaned, throwing your hands in the air.

“I know dragons cannot be unclaimed, I was trying to make a point!”

Jacaerys scoffed, turning his head away. He looked at Silverwing flying in the skies before he turned back to you.

“You kid yourself thinking this gives you any meaning to your life.”

You let out a breath of disbelief, your lips parted in shock. You had heard a lot of insulting words in the years of your life, but never have they been so belittling.

“You do not understand the meaning of claiming a dragon, nor do you deserve it,” Jacaerys bit out, continuing. “You will never live up to the worth of a dragonrider. You are merely a tool in a war you have no control over. You’re a commoner, a lowborn,” he said, his face contorted in anger, stepping closer to you. “A mongrel.”

SMACK!!

Your hand slapped across his face, a reaction to his words that was mostly reflex than anything else, and your eyes widened in shock as as you had realized what just happened, a gasp escaping your lips as you reeled back.

Fuck, did you really just slap the Crown Prince of the Seven Realms across the face like a common beggar?

Jacaerys’ hand flew to his reddened cheek, his lips parted as you stared at each other in shock. You were frozen, not daring to move, fearing the Kingsguard would step out of the shadows any moment to strike you down in retaliation.

When you realized that no knight would come, you spared one glance at Jacaerys before turning to leave, quickly fleeing the scene of the crime.

You had retreated into your chambers after the absolute horror of a first impression. Not even Addam’s invitation for supper had beckoned you out of the room; you were sick to the stomach imagining what kind of punishment Jacaerys was planning.

The glass on the window was cool against your forehead. You had sought refuge at the small nook, your eyes in the sky, watching Silverwing fly through the skies, longing in your chest. Feeling the wind in your hair would make you feel better, you had no doubt, but you didn’t want to anger the Prince even further. A knock on the door made you startle, and with a small sigh, you went to open it. Ser Erryk was stood in front of your chambers, inclining his head.

“My lady,” he said. “The Queen has asked to see you.”

Fear ran down your back at his words. It happened. Prince Jacaerys told her that you had laid your hands on him and she was about to cast you out.

This was too good to be true anyway, it was bound to end. You had always known your temper would be your ruin. You’d just assumed it would be a patron in the tavern striking you down for cursing him out, not the Queen taking your head because you put your hands on her heir.

As you followed the Ser Erryk to the Queen’s study, you wondered how she would end your life. Make Silverwing eat you alive? Burn you? Take your head with a sword? All the options made your insides crawl, and you tried to form some sort of coherent apology in your head, but not a single one seemed sufficient.

As you paused in the door way of the study, Ser Erryk announced you, before leaving. You curtsied, your head low. Queen Rhaenyra gave you a smile, extending her hand to the empty chair in front of her.

“Please, sit.”

Her behavior confused you, you had imagined her angry, furious even. Maybe she was trying to lull you into a false sense of security before putting you in chains. Nervously, you took a seat, dropping your hands in your lap.

“How have you been faring?” Rhaenyra asked, her voice soft. “I couldn’t help but notice you have withdrawn yourself to the chambers.”

You bit down on your lips, unsure on what to say; you knew it was rude not to speak when asked a question, especially by the queen, and you were desperately trying to come up with words, any at this point, but your mind was blank.

“I thought you would be dragonback. Jace has told me you have a formidable connection to Silverwing.”

Your eyes snapped up at her words, your blood chilling.

“He has?”

Was that before or after you slapped him?

Rhanyra smiled at you, her eyes crinkling. “You sound surprised.”

“He has been rude to you, hasn’t he?”

You lifted your eyes to meet her gaze, your silence answer enough and Rhaenyra sighed softly, laying her hand on yours.

“I hope you can excuse the Prince’s unwelcoming behavior. The war is a heavy toll and he has taken it upon himself to shoulder most of the responsibilities.”

Your lips parted in surprise and you leaned back in your chair, giving a demure nod.

“Of course your Grace,” you said softly. “I cannot imagine what the Prince has been going through”

“I hope his words will not hold you back from further strengthening the bond with your mount,” Rhaenyra continued. “It is of utmost importance that you study as much of what the grandmaester can teach you.”

Ducking your head, you nodded and Rhaenyra pulled her hand back, effectively dismissing you. The chair scraped against the stone floor as you stood and Rhaenyra turned from you to look outside, the skies blue.

“I have been told this time of day is perfect for riding.”

You curtsied, your fingers gripping the soft fabric of your dress as you exited the study, suddenly energized after having talked to the Queen. Your feet automatically carried you back into your chambers, but instead of returning to wallowing, you pulled your riding gear out of the closet, unlacing your dress. With quick strides, you walked down to the dragonmount and within moments, you were on Silverwing’s back, soaring through the air.

The wind in your hair was exhilarating, just as you had imagined, and it seemed like all the burden was lifting off your shoulders the longer you were in the skies. You leaned down, brushing your gloved hands against Silverwing’s neck when she let out a snarl, suddenly changing her directions. Puzzled, you peered forward, trying to see what caught her attentions when you saw a smaller dragon at the edge of the island of Driftmark. Its scales were green, a burnt orange and your chest tightened a little when you recognized it as Vermax, Jacaerys’ mount. Letting out a small sigh, you tightened Silverwing’s reigns, pushing your legs into her side, urging her downwards. Before long, Silverwing landed on the soft grass, spreading her wings so you could climb down. Your landing on the ground was anything but graceful, still not quite used to getting off tall heights but if Jacaerys had noticed, he had the courtesy not to comment on it.

Tugging your gloves off, you slowly approached Jacaerys. He was overlooking the harbor of Driftmark. You had never seen it so crowded, with ships and people alike. Nervously, you glanced over to him. Apologies had never come easy to you.

“Good day to ride.”

You regretted your words as soon as they passed your lips, wincing. Out of every words you knew, you chose to say that? Jacaerys shifted on his feet next to you, turning his head slightly.

“Aye.”

He did not speak more, but you found yourself unable to blame him. You just struck him across the face a day ago and now you were talking about the weather? Behind you, Silverwing was growing restless, stretching her wings with a whine as Vermax eyed her, letting out a rumbling growl. An uncomfortable silence settled over you and Jacaerys, and you wrung your hands.

“I was out of line-“ “I apologize for-“

The both of you started at the same time, before stopping again. Your eyes met his briefly, your cheeks flushing.

“Please, you go ahead,” you said quickly him but Jacaerys shook his head.

“No, I fell into your word.”

“I insist, my Prince.”

Jacaerys paused at the honorific, before he nodded, his gaze trained at the ground. He let out a deep breath, raising his head again. “I am sorry for lashing out at you. I regret my words deeply. They came from a place of anger, not honesty.”

You blinked at him, stunned. An apology was the last thing you had expected to come out of the Prince’s mouth. He had no reason to apologize to you, you were of lower rank. Something you had thought he would hold over you.

“Anger… Towards me?”

Jacaerys laughed dryly, shaking his head. “Not truly, no… You had no hand in your parentage, I cannot fault you for that,” he paused, turning his head away, blinking quickly. “And I cannot fault myself for that, either.”

He seemed lost in thought, and you weren’t quite sure what he was insinuating, but you decided against pressing the matter. The atmosphere was still fragile, you didn’t want to risk overstepping.

“I am sorry I struck you,” you said, glancing at him. The cheek you had struck still bore a faint red, which was not surprising, as Jacaerys had fairly pale skin, apart from the small freckles dusted across his nose. He was quite beautiful when he wasn’t yelling at you.

“Oh,” Jacaerys chuckled, his finger brushing over his cheek, like he had forgotten about it. “I guess I deserved that. I called you some… Less than savory things.”

“Still… I’m sorry.”

“You have the temper of a dragon.”

You couldn’t help but blurt out a laugh, quickly covering your mouth. Jacaerys gave you a boyish grin, so different to the Prince you had met the day before.

This.

This is who you had been expecting.

“I could say the same about you.”

“I guess fire and blood runs through both of our veins,” Jacaerys said and you glanced at him, a look of understanding passing through the both of you, your dragons behind you settling down.

“Lykirī, not lykiri.”

“That’s what I said.”

You were sitting on the floor of the library, your back leaning against the bookshelf. Several books on High Valyrian were scattered on the floor around you and if Grandmaester Gerardys were here, he’d keel over and die immediately.

But he wasn’t here. It was just Jace.

Jace.

It was maddening to think that only a moon turn ago you had struck him across the face and now you were sitting together like old friends.

“That is not what you said and you know it,” Jace mused, his hair falling into his eyes as he leaned over a book, before handing it over to you. “Here.”

Your finger tips brushed when you took the book from him and you try to not let it affect you as much as you poured over the book, even thought it felt like his touch left a scorching mark on your skin.

It would be most unwise to let affection distract you, least of all now and least of all for someone like him. Who knew what may come to pass by the next moon or even the morrow? Even if the war’s end should come, the Queen would never allow you near him. You may serve as one of her dragonriders, but you were far from worthy to even be considered as the lady wife of her heir.

“Lyckiri,” you tried again and Jace groaned, leaning his head back against the wall.

“That was worse than before!”

“Ugh,” you whined, closing the massive book with a thud. “I have been studying since we broke fast this morning. I am unable to learn any more words.”

“Do you want to go for a walk?”

“Is that allowed?” you asked and Jace only quirked a grin at you, getting to his feet.

“I’m the crown prince,” he replied, offering you his hand. “Surely no one would take issue with me?”

Rolling your eyes, you took his hand, letting him help you up. The two of you languidly walked outside the library and you could feel the tension seeping from your limbs as soon as the first rays of sunshine hit your skin. You let out a soft sigh, your eyes fluttering shut and you stretched your arms out. Jace was chuckling next to you, and when you peered an eye open at him, he was watching you bemusedly.

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” you sighed softly, wiggling your fingers at him. “You cannot tell me you don’t enjoy the sun and the fresh air, my Prince.”

He quirked a grin at you, dipping his head. “You don’t have to be so formal when it is just the two of us,” he said gently. “You can call me by my given name, if you wish.”

“Me, a low born calling the crown Prince by his given name? What would the council think?” you jested and Jace snorted, very unprincely.

“But,” you started, your voice softer. “Thank you, Jace.”

Jace smiled at youtaking a breath, before exhaling.

“Listen-“

“… is that a dragon?”

Jace whirled around into the direction you were facing, peering into the sky. The sun was shining directly into your eyes, and you squinted them, surely it cannot be a dragon. It was too small. Beside you, Jace blanched, the color draining out of his face.

“That’s Stormcloud. Aegon’s dragon.”

The small dragon seemed exhausted, his wings flapping slowly in the air, almost as if it was dragging itself to the earth of the island, until it finally landed, the small boy ontop of him clambering down. His hair was a stark blonde, one of Jace’s younger brothers.

“Jace!”

“Aegon?”

Jace sprinted towards his younger brother, who met him halfway, taking the boy into his arms.

“What happened? Where’s Viserys?”

Aegon’s eyes filled with tears, and he was tripping over his words as he tried to explain. Your heart ached for him.

“There were ships. They attacked us. I only managed to flee because of Stormcloud. Viserys-“

The blonde boy hid his face in his chest, his small body racking with sobs and Jace wrapped his arms tightly around his brother, his wide eyes flickering to you.

“I-“

“Go,” you urged him. “You have to find your mother.”

With a curt nod, though hesitant, Jace walked back into the Keep with his brother in his arms, leaving you standing in the grass while the dragonkeepers took care of Stormcloud, who seemed content enough to curl up on the warm grass. You didn’t want to imagine what the young dragon and his rider had been through, Aegon seemed inconsolable.

It was much later when you found Jace again, his shoulders tense and his strides quick. His forehead was creased in a frown, his eyes unfocused, so much that he jumped when you touched his arm gently.

“Is everything alright?” you asked him, voice soft.

Jace shook his head, his face pained, eyes wet with unshed tears.

“The Triarchy. Their fleet attacked the ship Aegon and Viserys were on while they were traveling on the Gullet. They have Viserys.”

“What?”

Jace sniffed, turning away from you, his head held high. You wanted to offer him comfort, at the same time, you didn’t want to overstep, so you wrapped your arms around yourself, letting Jace compose himself. He exhaled deeply, before letting out an annoyed growl, shaking his head.

“I have to go.”

Go?

“You can’t possibly mean the Gullet.”

“What else would I mean?” Jace snapped at you; and for the first time since you have made up with him, he reminded you of the Prince that had made you feel so small in the beginning. You knew his anger wasn’t directed at you, but you took a step back, mostly out of impulse. Jace took notice, sighing softly and his shoulders deflated.

“I’m sorry. I did not mean to raise my voice at you,” he said quietly. You nodded, swallowing thickly, freezing when Jace reached out to take your hands.

“There has to be something I can do. It’s my brother,” He said, his voice breaking and his grip tightened briefly. “I can’t lose another.”

“What if I go?” you blurted out; Jace looked appalled at your suggestion. You paused, before sighing. “Me and the other dragonseeds. We should go.”

Your own words terrified you, even though you knew it was the smartest decision. Neither Rhaenyra nor Jace could go, the future of the realm laid on their shoulders. You and the other dragonriders were expendable and you knew that, but Jace still seemed hesitant.

“Let me go. I’m sure her Grace will agree,” you said, squeezing his hand. “I’m merely a tool in a war I have no control over, remember?”

Jace couldn’t help but let out a laugh at you using his own words against him, shaking his head.

“This is why her Grace brought us in, let us do this.”

You knew you had persuaded him already, his eyes downcast, focused on your hands.

“You can’t even say lykirī.”

His voice was quiet when he spoke again, but there was a faint smile on his lips, so you rolled your eyes with a laugh.

“Lykirī,” you said, the word suddenly rolling off your tongue easily. “You happy now?”

Jace agreed reluctantly with a small nod, and you squeezed his hand one last time, before letting go, your skin missing the warmth his hands were providing.

“Be careful, don’t fly too low,” Rhaenyra said, her arms clasped. Her voice was even, but you could tell that she was tense, fearing for her son’s life. “I am grateful for your service.”

She looked at all the dragonseeds, before nodding her head, turning on her heel to leave the dragonmount, but Jace lingered behind. Addam was the first to mount Seasmoke, then Hugh. As the dragonkeepers beckoned you forward, you called out for Silverwing. You glanced back at Jace, who was already looking at you and you swallowed thickly, pressing your lips together. What if this was the last time you’d ever get to see him?

Silverwing let out a small grumble as she settled against the dock. You took a step towards her, hesitantly, before you turned on your heel, running towards Jace.

“What’s wro-?”

He didn’t get the chance to finish his words as you cut him off by pressing your lips against his and he stilled in shock before he wrapped his arms around you, deepening the kiss. Silverwing let out a deafening growl and you pulled away, your cheeks red.

“I-”

“Don’t,” Jace said, inhaling sharply. “Tell me when you come back.”

You wanted to protest, but the look on his face made you swallowed your words. With a last squeeze of his hand you stepped away from him, mounting Silverwing.

“Lykirī, Silverwing,” you said gently, as she whined softly. “I’m sorry. Soves.”

Silverwing flew out of the dragonmount, and you barely managed to catch one last glimpse of Jace before you were in the skies, joining Hugh and Addam, the latter taking the lead. Despite riding the fiercest creatures on earth, you couldn’t help but feel dread all over. It didn’t ease the closer you got to Gullet, but you tried to stay strong as the cold winds whipped you in the face. Your stomach dropped when the clouds dissipated over the Gullet, revealing an entire fleet of hostile ships across the ocean.

Seven hells, you thought, your breath stocking in your throat, I should’ve told him.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author’s note: sorry for the ambiguous ending😔pls leave some kindhearted feedback 🫵🏼��

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jace x reader #jacaerys targaryen #prince jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #jacaerys velaryon fic #jacaerys velaryon imagine #hotd

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conchcronch · 2 months ago

Text

I Know…

Sanji x Reader

Summary: You’re the newest crew member and the girls are desperate to learn more about you during a tipsy night in. The last thing you want to discuss is your sex life, or lack there of, leaving you to flee into the galley under the gauze of refilling the drinks. But you never end up making it back to the girls’ room.

WC: 7041

A/N: This is the first thing I’ve written in a hot minute, so it may be rather rough. The summary is shit, that’s just because there’s not a lot of plot there, if you get what I mean.

“So hold on, let me get this straight,” You sipped the drink Sanji had brought you what felt like hours ago, even though all that was left was the water from the melting ice, you needed something to do to avoid looking at the two girls in front of you. ”No one has ever gone down on you?” Nami spoke slowly as though she was carefully choosing her words when in reality the alcohol was getting to her, Robin was swirling her drink leaning back on her hand.

“Is it that weird?” The night had started with a few drinks with the girls which Sanji happily brought you until the three of you went up into your shared bedroom, sitting on the floor talking about what Nami claimed was ‘girl stuff’ but in reality seemed to revolve exclusively around your sex life.

“I mean yeah!” You looked at Robin, hoping she would side with you, but you could tell even before her mouth opened by her pursed lips that that would not be the case.

“I think it says more about the partners you’ve been with then it does you.” She said, reassuring a concern you hadn’t even realized you had.

”Oh yeah, it has nothing to do with you, just seems like the guys you’ve been with have been shit.”

“Do guys usually just like…do it?” You wished you had more alcohol in your system, this conversation taking a way different turn then you had originally expected and you hadn’t really been prepared for this.

“Women do.” Nami grinned, leaning back on her hands behind her, stretching her legs out in front.

“That doesn’t really help me.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“A good partner will.” Robin spoke up, tucking her legs under her.

“I’ve brought it up, in the past.” You begin picking at your nails, suddenly feeling very aware of your surroundings. “He looked at me like I had three heads.”

“Please tell me you didn’t let him fuck you after that.” Nami groaned. The silence that stretched across the three of you was answer enough.

”I’m gonna’ go get us some more drinks, and then maybe we can talk about something that doesn’t have to do with my sex life.” You stood up, grabbing their glasses before leaving and started off towards the kitchen. Popping outside for the brief few seconds before entering the galley, you hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. The sun was long gone, the only light on on the deck was beaming down from the crow’s nest where you were sure Zoro was.

You shouldn’t have been surprised to see Sanji still in the kitchen, standing at the counter while he idly flipped through his tattered recipe book, looking up at you the second you came down the ladder. “Mon chou, I didn’t think you were still awake.” He came around, helping you with the three glasses that were now all in one hand so you could climb down.

“Oh yea, we’re just yapping.” he put the glasses in the sink, opening the cupboard to pull out three fresh ones. “Oh Sanji, I can just make them quick, they don’t have to be anything special.”

”Nonsense, a beauty like you has to have a drink that’s just as beautiful.” You leaned against the counter, watching him pull fresh fruit from the fridge. ”So what were you ladies chatting about?”

“Unfortunately, all the topics seem to be revolving around me lately.” He smiled softly as he cut a piece of strawberry into a surprisingly perfect heart.

“Sounds like a conversation I wish I were part of.”

”Believe you me, you don’t want to be. I wish I weren’t.” A comfortable silence stretched on between the two of you as he prepared the first of the three drinks with all the precision and care in the world. ”So, are you still settling in okay?” You had been part of the crew for little over six months, the everyday things had become a comfortable habit, but it was things like being at sea for so long and not really having your own space that you were still struggling with.

“For the most part I guess, I’m still not used to the long stints at sea though.” He nodded, pausing his preparation to turn and look at you for a moment.

”They get easier.”

“I just wish I had my own space sometimes.” He nodded. “I hope that doesn’t sound selfish, I’m just not used to being around people 100% of the time.” He added a pineapple that was sliced into a star to the rim of the glass before pulling the tea towel that had been draped over his shoulder off, rubbing it between his hands before putting it on the counter next to the two empty glasses, turning to you with a soft expression. There was no nosebleed, no hearts in his eyes, just a genuine member of your crew.

“I completely understand,” He paused, stepping closer. “I know it’s not the same but if you’d ever like some quiet time, no one besides myself is ever really in here between meals.”

“It wouldn’t bother you if I were in here?” He reached a hand out, his finger moving a piece of hair that had slipped from behind your ear, tucking it back into place. The tip of his finger gliding against your cheekbone.

“Bother me?” He smiled, a small laugh accompanying it “I would love to have you here. I always work better in the presence of a beautiful woman.” You were searching for something to say, even so much as a thank you seemed so far from your lips. You had never spent much time alone with the chef, let alone been this close to him. The blue of his one uncovered eye was so much deeper then you’d ever noticed, flecks of green dotting his iris. A dusting of the faintest freckles graced his cheeks and over his nose. You hadn’t realized he had moved closer until you felt his chest against your breast when you inhaled, alerting you to the fact you hadn’t spoken in what could possibly have been quite a while. Your eyes widened slightly as you refocused away from the smallest details of his face to his expression overall.

“Will you-“ Your voice seemed as loud as some of Luffy’s shouts, breaking the quiet moment of what you mentally refused to refer to as intimacy. He pulled his face away, stepping back on the ball of his foot to give you space enough to slip from between him and the counter, if you so chose. “Will you have a drink with me?”

“Who am I to deny a request from such an enchanting woman.” He lingered a breath longer, as though there were words dangling from the tip of his tongue but didn’t quite make it to his lips before he stepped entirely out of your bubble. Moving back over to where he had abandoned the one near completed drink, reaching up to the cabinet above to pull a wine glass down for himself and put away the other two glasses that were clearly not getting used.

”Could you…Could you make mine a bit stronger than before?” You hadn’t realized your face was already warm until it started to burn, suddenly you felt very vulnerable as he smirked at you.

“Think you can handle something stronger?” He chided, pouring a few additional shots of the dark rum into your elongated highball glass, a variety of fruit already cut into different shapes hung off the rim or were skewered in the glass.

“I guess we’ll have to find out, now won’t we?” He finished your drink before opening a bottle of wine he selected for himself, pouring a glass before clearing the small distance between you two to give you your drink. You clinked your glass to his before taking a sip, despite the alcohol you had watched him pour, you wouldn’t have known. The notes of spice from the dark rum, expertly sandwiched between vanilla coconut flavours.

“You don’t have to stay with me, if the girls are waiting for you.” He said before sipping at the deep maroon liquid. His gaze never leaves you, watching as you shake your head before taking another long sip of your drink.

“Truthfully, I don’t really want to be the topic of their conversation anymore.”

“You have to remember, we’ve all been together for a long time. We already know everything about each other, you’re new. They just want to get as close to you as the rest of us are to each other.” You nodded, leaning heavier against the counter, moving so you have both arms propping you up as you leaned over, your back arching in a way that was not missed by the blonde.

“I just feel like, compared to Nami and Robin, I’m so…I don’t know, lame I guess? Boring?” You pulled the skewer from your drink, guiding an alcohol soaked pineapple chunk off of it with your teeth. ”They’re both drop dead, unreal, honestly, they’re probably most beautiful women I’ve ever seen in my life. And then I’m just over here like their loser little sister or something.” It wasn’t until you felt a drop of juice from the fruit you were tugging off the skewer slip down your chin that you realized you had been rambling. “S-sorry…I guess the drinks are hitting me harder than I expected, I’m getting really whiny.” You looked up at Sanji for the first time since shifting positions, your lips sticky with pineapple juice.

“Everything you said about yourself,” He had put his mostly full wine glass on the counter at some point, his expression having changed, tensed, the same look you had seen him take before a battle. “Every single word out of your mouth was wrong.” You could feel your cheeks burning but you didn’t know if it was from the alcohol that was making your thighs jelly or if it was because of him. “Do you honestly think any of that is true?” You dropped your face, hoping the answer to his question was somewhere on the polished white countertop.

“I mean, I guess yeah.” You hadn’t noticed he moved until you felt a hand gently pull your chin to look at him. He was leaning down, your nose almost brushing his.

“You’re so completely wrong.” The words barely made it out of his mouth before you closed the very small distance between your lips and his. There was a small, muffled sound of surprise but it was more so at the force of the kiss rather then the kiss itself. When he stood at full height you had to move onto your toes to keep the kiss going, your hands moving to the back of his neck as though you thought he was going to pull away completely. But when you felt his hands wrapping around your waist, tugging you even closer to him you knew you needed more.

Whether it was the alcohol in your blood that was convincing you of your want, or the very long dry spell you had been going through since joining the crew your body was reacting in all the right ways. His hands on your lower back shifted, coming forward and holding onto your sides, very gently pushing you off your toes and effectively ending the kiss, much to your disappointment.

Your eyes were wide, doe-ish as he searched your expression for something, but your brain was too foggy to piece together what he could be searching for. When he didn’t speak or move you felt a pit in your stomach open, a wave of self doubt washing over you. “Fuck” The sharp word tumbled from your mouth before you could stop it. “I-I shouldn’t have…fuck” You could feel tears well in your eyes, the realization of what you just did washing over you like a bucket of cold water “You were just being nice…and I made it weird!” You stepped backwards as you pushed a hand through your hair, tugging at the strands as you turned around, trying to make a beeline for anywhere that wasn’t here.

He caught you by the waist before you could get too far, the alcohol making your coordination even worse than it normally was. “Mon chou, please listen to me.” He turned you around so you were facing him, his hand quick to wipe away the tear that had fallen. He looked like he was about to speak but thought his actions in this situation would outshine any words he chose. The weight of his lips against yours was enough to drag a muffled sound of surprise from the back of your throat. His lips moving with more direction then they had moments ago, his tongue moving along your lower lip begging for you to let him inside. And who were you to deny him?

He held you tightly against him, your hands bunching the front of his blazer in them as you parted your lips, allowing his tongue to slide along your own. You couldn’t help the moan that slipped out when you felt his hands clutch the back of your shirt. You could have stayed like this for hours, your eyes opening slightly every so often to see how relaxed he looked, how much enjoyment he was taking from this. That is, until you shifted, putting more of your weight onto him, you felt how much he was enjoying this.

Much to your disappointment you felt him squirm, trying to control his hips against your lower stomach. When you parted, you couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your lips. “You just caught me by surprise, ma chérie.”

“I surprised myself.” You wanted to be closer to him, you wanted to feel him against you, there were too many layers separating you. “Do you…” Sanji sniffled, clearly trying to start the preemptive nose bleed “I actually don’t know where we could go.” He leaned forward, seemingly going in for another kiss but dodging your lips at the last second before landing on your neck.

“My my,” You could feel him smile against your neck, between quick pecks he was pressing to your pulse point. “Were you about to invite me up to your bedroom, mon chou?”

“Yes” The word came out as a long sigh fled your lips. He trailed kisses up to your ear, his voice low, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke.

“But where will we go?” What was meant as a frustrated groan ended up sounding more wanton than you had intended. His hands moved from your waist up to your hair, running his fingers against your scalp as he pulled the strands up into a makeshift ponytail, giving him unfenneled access to your neck, his kisses trailing back down towards your shoulder. You naturally tipped your head, getting lost in the way his kisses began to linger.

“I-“ You furrowed your brows in attempted thought, opening your eyes that you hadn’t realized you had closed. “I don’t know.” If you were capable of any more thought, you would have tried to recall a time you had gotten so turned on by such a simple act, but considering even piecing together that three word sentence was as difficult as it was, you would have to try to answer your internal question at a later date. ”Sanji” You felt his one hand that still remained on your waist tighten at his name on your tongue. He pulled away from where he was sucking what you could only assume was a decently dark hickey in the dip above your clavicle, his bangs had moved so for the first time since you joined, you saw both of his sapphire eyes staring back at you. “I can’t take this much longer.” You tried your best to convey what you wanted through your expression, but when he didn’t immediately blurt out the perfect, private room that no one on the crew knew about (that you knew didn’t exist) you reached forward to paw at his tented pants hoping to quicken his decision making. His whole body stiffened, a quiet ah slipped from his lips as his eyes fell shut. “Please Sanji.”

His mind was racing as quickly as it could through the fog of lust, which was only made more difficult by the hefty glass of wine he had finished before you had even entered the galley.Your hand squeezed him through his pants, the heel of your palm pressing into where his head wept sticky precum. He forced his eyes open after allowing himself a few moments to enjoy the attention, looking up at the clock. Almost midnight, late enough that the bulk of the crew was already asleep, and early enough that Luffy wouldn’t be waking up to try and sneak a late night snack. The only person who they risked running into was Zoro, who had a terrible habit of coming into the kitchen for a late night snack midway through night watch. It wasn’t ideal, but he could make this work.

Sanji let your hair fall back over your shoulders and down your back, opting instead to guide the hand that was slowly beginning to jerk him off through his pants as he turned around and started walking towards the long couch that ran along the wall near the table they all ate at. “It’s not ideal, next time we’ll have to find a bed. But if you don’t mind my love, I think this could work.” A thrill ran through your body as though you were shocked, the tingles going right to your cunt at the idea of being in such a public and commonly used spot. “If you’re comfortable with it.” He added when you didn’t sit down immediately, still standing at his side, hand in hand.

“N-no it’s…fuck, it’s good.” You sat down, bringing his hand with you, noticing the uncertain expression on his face. “I like it…” You squeezed your thighs together, clocking the way his eyes darted down and watched, the true meaning behind your words worming their way into his brain. You began to squirm under his prolonged glance, unsure of where or how he wanted you, but he made no efforts to say anything. “D-do you want me to like, lay down or-“ He blinked a few times, his eyes slowly making their way up to your face, his free hand wiping the blood that was beginning to gather and drip. While your fingers were still intertwined, he moved in front of you, crouching down.

“May I?” You stared blankly at him, his free hand moving to your knee, gently guiding them apart to get his point across.

“Wait what?” Your face began to burn, as he shifted his weight so he was kneeling, your knees falling apart so he could see your plain cotton panties that you would have silently been cursing it you weren’t trying to wrap your head around all the other things he could be offering other than what you thought he may be offering. “Y-you don’t have to! I-I mean, I want you to but you don’t have to! But if you want to I want to. But you don’t have to.” The words were falling out of your mouth faster than you could control. His brow furrowed as he stared at you before you covered your face with your hands. “Fuck this is so embarrassing” you hadn’t intended for that sentance to come out, muffled by your palms but not enough for the cook to not hear them.

You felt his hands move from your knees, the warmth coming from his body disappearing. You pulled your knees up to your chest, wondering if you thought about it hard enough if you could sink into the green fabric of the couch.

But before you could will the matter to part and absorb you, you felt warm hands gently pry your hands away from your face. “My love” his tone was gentle, akin to the voice you would use when trying to soothe an upset child.

“I’m sorry” the words burst from your mouth as if you had been trying to physically withhold them, prompting a warm smile to spread across his lips.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” When he felt confident that you weren’t going to cover your face again, he released your hand and opting instead to guide a stray strand of hair behind your ear again. “I don’t want to do anything you don’t want.” He was standing awkwardly to the side of the couch, keeping your chin in his grasp despite not really needing to.

“I do want it.” He nodded “but I don’t want you to feel like you have to.” He leaned forward, having to brace himself on the back of the couch so he could press his lips to yours. On instinct your hands came up to his neck, your legs relaxing while you tried to take as much as he would give you. When he pulled away you chased after him before accepting the kiss was over.

“I want to.”

“You do? Like actually?” He couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped out.

“Is that so hard to believe?” He pressed one last kiss to your lips before resuming his place on his knees in front of you.

“No one has ever wanted to before.” He was parting your thighs when your confession slipped out, making his movements stutter.

“Never?!” He sounded almost offended. You shook your head. His hands slid up the outsides of your thighs, grabbing the sides of your shorts and tugging them down, lifting your hips to help him pull them down and off your legs. “Merde” he balled your sleep shorts up, your cunt bare for him to take in. “If you want me to stop,” he forced himself to look up away from your pussy and up to your face, waiting for you to nod. He grabbed behind your knees, tugging you down the seat until your cunt parted and you were within tasting distance.

He couldn’t stop the moan that slipped out at the sight of your glistening folds, every part of your cunt was on display for him. He guided one of your legs over his shoulder before using his free hand to run over you, from the crest of your labia, over your clit until the tip of his finger could prod into your entrance. You expected him to push his finger in further, so when you felt his tongue lap greedily at your entrance your moan surprised even yourself.

His tongue pressed into your hole, moaning as he got more of your stick in his mouth, his thumb pressing into your clit to ensure it wasn’t neglected. You wanted to tip your head back but you were enamored by the way his head covered, the tickle of his golden locks against your lower belly and mound. When his eyes flicked up and met your gaze you both moaned in tandem.

He didn’t want to but he forced himself to part from your body, his chin was wet with your slick and his own saliva, his pupils were blown out as he stared up at you. “What do you need, Ma gâterie savoureuse?” You furrowed your eyebrows at him, opening your mouth to speak just in time for him to pull his hands away from your clit and your entrance, leaving you clenching around nothing.

“M-more” was about the only intelligent thing you were able to force from your lips, watching as he smiled at you, pressing his lips to your inner thigh as a sort of reward.

“More of what, my love? What do you like most?” His warm breath puffed over your spread lips, your hips squirming in an attempt to get his attention.

“I- I’m not really sure…” The blonde clicked his tongue at you, nipping at the soft skin of your inner thigh, grinding the flesh between his front teeth.

“Do you like it when-“ he pulled away from your leg and slowly watched you as he pressed his longest finger into your slick entrance, drawing a shaky breath from your lips. He crooked his finger, rubbing against a spongy part of your crevice that you could rarely reach. He pressed a second finger inside, pushing harder against the section of your wall until you were grinding your hips to meet every thrust. “Or how about this?” He pulled his fingers out of you along with a long whine that you weren’t impressed with yourself for making. But very quickly you were trying to chase the orgasm that was beginning to fade as he replaced his fingers with his tongue, his eyes glued to you with every slurp of your pussy. You shook your head, bucking your hips up for any other sort of stimulation, his tongue not being enough for you. “So not that one?” He couldn’t stop the cheeky smile as he licked his lips, watching you slowly blink in an attempt to clear your brain enough to speak coherently.

“First was better” you said, swallowing hard.

“That’s good.” He praised, as he held your thigh tighter, forcing your body further down on the couch “How about this?” He was right back in your cunt, his lips wrapping around your clit as his fingers resumed this place inside you.

“Fuck” you breathed, your hands instinctually grabbing his hair and holding him exactly where you needed, as though you thought he was going to pull away. You felt him smile against you, changing from suckling at your clit to flicking his tongue over it, making your back arch almost painfully.

Your words were not your own, tumbling from your mouth before you could even realize it. A mix of curses, praise and non communicative words flowed with no restraint. With his free hand he guided your other leg over his shoulder, giving you the chance to tense your thighs, keeping him even more firmly in place.

Your body was burning, your entrance clenching around his digits as the white hot knot tightened to the point of ripping, your muscles contracting as you squeezed your legs, pinning him against your core as your orgasm crashed into you harder then you’d ever experienced. Wave after wave of pleasure rattled through you, egged on by his slowing tongue against your clit, his fingers gliding over your g spot slowly in time with your tapering ecstasy.

You hadn’t realized your hands were pressing his head into your folds until the fog of pleasure was beginning to lift, pulling your hands from his tresses as though they turned white hot. “S-shit sorry, I-I didn’t mean to-“ your voice faded into silence when you saw his expression. The lower portion of his face was wet with your slick and his spit, his pupils blown out and the hint of blood under his nose. His lips were parted as he breathed through his mouth, hands still on your thighs but not moving them from his shoulders.

“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, I could die between these thighs and I would consider myself the luckiest man to ever sail these seas.” He greedily licked his lips, and you noticed the way his gaze darted down to your cunt which was still on display to him, and anyone who stepped foot in the galley. “Do you want more?” You nodded, but when he leaned back down his tongue barely making contact with your overstimulated clit your protest stopped him immediately.

“Ahh w-I-I meant more of you.” His expression was that of shock, when he looked back up at you.

“Of me?” Suddenly you felt very sheepish as you nodded, your heart beating so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

“I want you.” The words were barely louder than a whisper, so quiet that Sanji almost missed them.

“How do you want me, mon chou?” You could see by the look in his eyes that he wanted to hear you say it, he was getting off to the idea that you were asking for him.

“Sanji” you whined, wanting to cover your face with your hands knowing your cheeks were even more red than you thought was even possible, but you knew he’d be quick to stop you. He pressed sloppy kisses to your inner thighs as he guided them off of his shoulders, you knew they’d be a little shaky if you were to stand and likely you’d be feeling the strain in the morning. But all you could focus on was him.

He pushed himself to his feet, making quick work of his belt and fly but not taking his pants off, but rather pulling them open wide enough that you could see his boxers that were dampened with his seed. “S-Sanji did you-“ he avoided your gaze for the first time possibly since meeting him.

“Yeah…”

“Do you still want to?”

“Of course!” You were pleased, and honestly impressed he was hard again after having cum once already. His cock finally freed from the cotton restraint and swung out as he pushed his pants behind his sack. It was one of the hottest things you had ever seen, the tall blonde vision of beauty, disheveled but still mostly dressed with his long slender cock awaiting your next move.

You forced yourself to your feet, your shirt falling to cover your lower half as you wrapped your hand around Sanji’s cock, pleased to hear the startled ah that fell from his lips. You rocked up to your toes, your lips meeting his in a teasing kiss before you whispered against his lips “Mind if I’m on top?” He moaned at the question which you could only assume was his way of agreeing as your free hand pressed against his lower back, wanting him to take up your place on the couch.

He took up your spot on the couch, his legs naturally falling apart as his hands grabbed your hips, tugging you with him as he sat. As you were getting yourself situated on his lap, one hand bracing against his shoulder while the other guided his cock to press against your entrance, his hands slipping under your billowing shirt. His hands were warm as they slowly slid from your waist up along your sides until they could grip your breasts, drawing a simultaneous moan from both of you. “Seems unfair we can’t take more clothes off.” You leaned forward enough that you could press your lips to the corner of his mouth as he pulled your shirt up enough that he could suck a nipple into his mouth, breaking away to answer,

“Next time.” Before greedily sucking the bud as though he’d be able to gain sustenance from it, pulling a long moan from your lips as you sank down onto his cock, not stopping until you were fully sat on his lap. It had been a while since you had had more than your own fingers inside of you, so the stretch of his cock meant you needed some time to get used to it. As you slowly felt the sting of your cunt fade, he released your tit from his lips, his hands pulling away from your chest to hold your face instead. He looked like he was about to say something but thought better of it before pulling you in for another one of his earth shattering kisses.

As your tongues moved together, little moans slipped out of your mouth as you were unknowingly grinding your hips against his. You were lost in a world of pleasure, not enough to get you to finish but it was such a wonderful feeling to rotate your hips in such a way that his cock would graze over you g spot while your clit was rutting against his pelvis. It wasn’t until his hands dropped from your cheeks to your hips, blunt nails digging in as he tried to hold you still. The action seemed out of place, none of your past partners had ever stopped you before, you pulled your lips away to find his eyes already open. “Shit you just feel too good.” It didn’t sound like the words were intentional.

“I can do all the work, o-or we can stop?” You were so unsure what the issue was but you were desperate to solve it, no matter the solution. You were seconds away from lifting yourself off of his cock before you felt him push you down harder.

“J-just don’t move f-for a secon-d.” His eyes dropped to your chest that was once again covered by your shirt, having fallen back into place the moment you started kissing. You froze, barely even allowing yourself to breathe as you sat motionless, still impaled by his cock, your clit all but throbbing from neglect. “Sorry.” He breathed, meeting your gaze again after what felt like minutes. “Sorry” he repeated a bit more firm, a hand coming up to the back of your neck to draw you in for another kiss, pressing kiss after kiss from your lips down to your chin, then your jawline, your neck, nipping just below your ear where he whispered “You had me right on the edge without even trying.” He nipped your ear lobe sending a shiver down and then back up your spine before he kept kissing down, getting progressively sloppier but stopping at the neck of your t-shirt that was serving as a roadblock.

His hands left your hips, gliding over your skin and around until he could grab the curve of your ass, guiding you up his cock until just the head remained inside. “Feeling okay?” You nodded, desperate to feel every inch press inside of you, but the hands on your ass were keeping you from dropping down the way you craved. Your gaze locked with his glacier blue eyes watching your every facial feature to check for any signs of uncertainty. But of course, there were none, but he still didn’t release you from his hold, the corners of his lips turning up when you started squirming out of desperation.

“F-fuck c-come on.” You tried to groan but it just came out whiny, your nails dug into the back of his neck. He appeared to take pity on you, but actually he was just as desperate for you as you were him. He shifted his hold from the curve of your ass to your hips, allowing you to sink onto him at your own pace. A long moan pushed from the back of your throat as you felt every inch of him push between your gummy walls, until you could rest your forehead on his shoulder as you sat flush against him. You drew up onto your knees quicker this time, becoming obsessed with the way his cock dragged through your body, his grip tightening as your speed increased until the galley was filled with the sound of slick slapping and your intermingled moans.

His lips were all over you, moving from your neck to your lips and anywhere else he could reach, but you so desperately wanted to feel them on your chest again, the shirt irritated you far more then you could have ever expected. Finally, you decided to throw caution to the wind, sitting straight up, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it on the couch, your hips never once missing a beat. The way his eyes took you in was enough to make your cunt tighten around him, he drank your bare body in as though it was the first sip of water after days lost in the desert. His hands quickly abandoned your hips opting instead to grab your breasts, kneading the fat in his hands as he caught your lips again. You barely even noticed one of your breasts was free from his grasp until you felt his thumb press against your clit, your body burning red hot as your hips stuttered. You broke the kiss with the intention of telling him to stay exactly like that but the only thing that came from your lips was a slew of yes.

He was smart enough to know what to do, drawing your nipple back into his mouth while refusing to move his digit from the apex of your folds, moving it in even circles as you set the pace again. You fucked yourself on him, knowing your volume was getting out of control but not having the ability to change it. “Sanji” You tried, desperately hoping he could understand what you meant but were unable to actually say. And he, of course, did. But he couldn’t ignore his own impending finish that was approaching at an alarming rate.

“M-my love, merde I’m right there.” Your nipple slipped from his mouth, his tone was tight, you could tell his teeth were grit and had his nails been any longer you’re sure they would have pressed crescents into your hip. You leaned over, pressing your forehead to his while you put all your remaining brain cells to work trying to put together your two word sentence.

“Do it.” You felt his thumb press harder into your clit, his movements just as firm but somehow the movements were tighter, shoving you over the edge into the expanse of your orgasm. It felt like your cunt expanded, the pleasure filling every crevice of your body as you arched an amount that would be painful had it been in any other situation. You sat fully on him, feeling how he forced your walls apart, his heat white hot as you felt a warmth flood through you, giving you an awareness of your body you had never experienced before.

His jaw clenched harder than you had ever seen it, even during the most heated debates with his least favourite swordsman, he had wanted to keep his eyes open to watch you ride the wave of your climax, but with every pump of his seed they pinched tighter. You felt every pulse of his cock, each one getting a bit weaker until all that was left was Sanji whining weakly. But even when he was quiet, his head lolled against the back of the couch as his breathing seemed almost impossible to catch, you didn’t want to move off of him. Opting instead to lean forward and resting your head on his shoulder, getting only a small whine from the blonde in response to you accidentally moving your hips slightly.

You’re not sure how long you sat like that, but eventually Sanji was the first to try to sit up. One hand coming to your back making sure you didn’t tip backwards, the other resting on your hip to avoid you unexpectedly shifting. He pressed chaste kisses to your shoulder, lulling you from the edges of sleep back to the waking world. “Ji” was all you could manage, your throat scratchy from all the noise you had been making.

“Come on my love, if we don’t get you cleaned up and dressed soon, we’ll be interrupted by the shitty swordsman looking for a late night snack.” You slowly sat up, leaning back against his hold, your hips shifting enough that you could feel the stickiness that would soon be spilling down the insides of your thighs. He saw how you crinkle your nose at the feeling, reaching over and grabbing your shirt, helping you put it back on with slow, gentle touches. He brought both hands to your back, scooting his body close to the edge of the couch until you could feel your foot touch the cold wood of the floor. “Take it slow, I’ve got you.” And you did just that, slowly shifting your weight off the couch and onto your feet that were fully pins and needles at this point, lifting yourself off his cock drawing a low moan from the blonde which continued when he saw the drips of milky white that fell from you onto the black of his slacks.

“Shit, sorry!” You stepped away, squeezing your thighs together on instinct, immediately feeling the tops become sticky with his seed.

“Fuck” He breathed, his eyes moving from his pants to you in front of him, his tone was the same as it had been when he first tasted you. “Show me.” You furrowed your brow at him but felt the throb of your exhausted cunt. “I wanna’ see the mess we made.” When you didn’t move, he tugged on your wrist, standing up and guiding you into his seat for the third time that evening. He wasted no time spreading your thighs and bringing your legs up, the angle compressing your lower half so he could watch as a large dollop of his cum was forced from your entrance, electing a long moan from him.

“What’re yo-Sanji!” Your mouth was on your entrance, his tongue pressing into you.

“Please my love, I just want to clean you up.” He didn’t wait for a response before delving back in, being sure to avoid any contact with your surely sore clit. He tried to avoid lingering, keeping his mind to the task of cleaning you up instead of getting lost in your taste.

“W-we were just talking ‘bout this.” You tried when he was finally leaning back on his haunches, licking his lips. “Me and the girls.” He watched you, wanting to coax another orgasm from you but forcing himself to resist. “Not about you specifically. But like- about how no one- no man- has ever gone down on me…y’know.” You watched as the corners of his lips pulled up before he stood up, shoving his semi hard cock back into his slacks before extending a hand to you, pulling you up and into him, capturing your lips in a kiss. You could taste yourself and his seed on his tongue, but before you could enjoy it he pulled back just enough to say “I know.”

#ao3 author #ao3 #one piece smut #one piece #sanji smut #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x you #op sanji #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n

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uncuredturkeybacon · 1 month ago

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𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which the lens says the words you couldn't say out loud

You’re not the kind of person people notice.

Not right away.

You’re a shadow with a camera. A whisper behind the lens. You sit in the corner of the gym with your hood up, legs crossed, elbows resting on your thighs, waiting for a moment that no one else will see. Waiting for Paige.

It’s always Paige.

The shutter clicks when she’s not looking. When she exhales too hard after a sprint, when her eyes flick to the scoreboard, when her shoulders drop just slightly before the national anthem plays. You have a catalog of her expressions in your mind—quiet fire, steady resolve, unspoken ache.

She doesn’t know you. Not really. Maybe she’s seen you around, maybe she even knows you’re one of the media interns assigned to UConn’s women’s basketball team this year. But Paige Bueckers exists in a world of bright lights and roaring fans. You exist in aperture settings and ISO adjustments. That’s the extent of your relationship.

You’re a photographer. She’s your muse.

Not that she knows that either.

You catch her in midair, one arm extended, the basketball cradled like something holy in her palm. You snap a frame. And another. The light hits her in a way that turns sweat into stardust. Her eyes sharpen. Her mouth parts. She lands and doesn’t see you.

She never sees you.

But maybe that’s okay. Maybe the point of love—if that’s even what this is—is that it doesn’t always need to be known. Maybe some people are meant to be admired from behind glass.

Your professor assigns the senior thesis at the end of September. One exhibit. One theme. One gallery to define your entire four years.

The prompt is simple. Show us what matters to you.

You write down the first word that comes to mind.

Her.

You stare at it for a long time before scratching it out. Rewrite it. Motion. That sounds better. More academic. Less pathetic.

But later, when you’re in your room, flipping through the contact sheets spread out across your bed, every frame lands on Paige. Her in motion. Her in stillness. Her in between. Every photo you’ve taken in the past year has her fingerprints on it—even when she’s not in the shot.

It’s a problem. A beautiful one.

Your roommate walks in mid-obsession. You scramble to hide the stack of prints.

They just smirk. “So… still stalking Paige Bueckers like it’s your job?”

You glare. “It is my job.”

“Uh-huh. And you just accidentally printed three hundred photos of her face.”

You flip them off. They laugh and steal one of the images anyway, holding it up to the light.

“She looks different in these,” they say.

You pause. “Different how?”

Your roommate shrugs. “I don’t know. Softer. Like… you see her differently.”

You go quiet.

That’s the thing. You do see her differently.

She’s not just UConn’s golden girl. She’s not just the face of the team. To you, she’s the way her fingers twitch when the shot clock winds down. She’s the quiet she sinks into when no one’s looking. She’s the moment after the buzzer when everyone else is screaming and she’s just… breathing.

She’s stillness inside noise.

You decide then. The gallery will be called Through Her Eyes. And it will be about Paige.

You keep shooting her.

But now, every photo feels different. More deliberate. Each frame a love letter in disguise.

You stop attending other events. Stop photographing anything else. You show up at every game, every practice, every press conference. You know the schedule better than the coaching staff does.

She starts noticing.

Nothing huge. Just… looks. A glance your way during warmups. A nod when you pass her on the way to the tunnel. One time after a game, she catches you in the hallway.

“You’re the photo person, right?” she asks, sweaty and flushed, jersey half untucked.

Your mouth dries out.

You nod.

She smiles. “You take good ones.”

And then she’s gone.

You stand there like an idiot, fingers gripping your camera like it might stop you from floating out of your own skin. Her voice lingers in your ears for hours.

The gallery begins to take shape.

You spend long nights in the darkroom, printing frame after frame. You work in silence, save for the quiet hum of fluorescent lights and the sound of your heartbeat when her face appears in the chemical tray. You organize the shots by theme.

Focus. Fire. Flight. Quiet.

In each section, Paige. Paige mid-dribble, Paige laughing with her teammates, Paige tying her shoes, Paige sitting alone in the bleachers, chin tucked into her knees.

You start adding captions. Just short lines. Poetic. Vague.

"She never needed the spotlight. She made her own light." "Even still, she burned." "Some people carry silence like a shield. Others wear it like skin."

They’re not for her. You tell yourself that. They’re just part of the exhibit. Part of the illusion.

You don’t tell anyone what the collection is really called in your head. Paige.

One rainy afternoon, you find her alone in the gym.

She’s seated at half-court, legs outstretched, headphones in. You weren’t planning to photograph today—you just forgot your charger in the media box. But something about her posture, the curve of her back, the slump in her shoulders—it feels honest.

You raise the camera.

One click.

Then she looks up.

Your heart stalls. You freeze, finger still resting on the shutter.

She pulls out a headphone. “Didn’t think anyone else was here.”

“Sorry,” you say quickly. “Didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay.” She gestures to the camera. “Were you taking pictures?”

You nod, embarrassed.

She stares at you for a beat, then pats the court beside her. “You can sit, you know.”

You hesitate.

“Come on,” she says. “I don’t bite.”

You sit. Two feet away from her. Careful. Aware of everything.

She doesn’t say anything at first. Just leans back on her palms and exhales. You look at her, really look—not through the lens, but just with your eyes. Her lashes are clumped from sweat. Her cheeks flushed. There's a tired ache in her bones you wish you could capture.

She turns to you. “Do you like it?”

You blink. “Photography?”

She nods.

“I love it,” you admit. “It’s the only way I know how to see things.”

Paige tilts her head. “You mean people don’t look the same without the lens?”

You chew your lip. “Not to me.”

She studies you, unreadable. “What do I look like through it?”

You hesitate. The question cracks something in you. But you don’t answer. Not really.

You just say, “Different.”

She doesn’t push. But her gaze lingers.

That night, you develop the photo you took—Paige sitting alone at center court, staring up at the ceiling like she was asking the sky a question.

You name it Faith.

And you hang it in the very center of your gallery.

You don’t know it yet, but that’s the photo that will make her fall in love with you.

You tell yourself it was just a moment.

Just a passing Tuesday. Just an athlete being kind. Just a photographer doing their job. You press the photo of her sitting on the court into a frame and tape the edges in the gallery blueprint like it’s not the heart of everything.

But you keep coming back to it.

To her.

Something shifted that day.

She starts looking for you.

Not obviously. Paige Bueckers isn’t obvious about anything. But her eyes skim the gym when she walks in. She lingers after practices. She makes comments now—quiet ones meant only for you.

“Hope you got that one,” she says after sinking a half-court shot in scrimmage.

You laugh—quiet, awkward. She winks.

And it kills you. Because now she’s not just a subject. Not just a muse. She’s… real. Real and warm and a little too close to the dream you were trying to keep safely out of reach.

You’re editing photos in the media lab when your phone buzzes.

Unknown Number: Hey. This is Paige. Hope it’s okay I got your number from Coach.

You blink.

Read it again.

And again.

Paige: Can you send me some of the shots you’ve taken? I never see myself the way other people do. Figured you’re the only one who sees me like… that.

You stare at the message for ten minutes before typing.

You: Yeah. Of course.

You send her three.

Only the soft ones.

One of her sitting alone, elbows on her knees, head bowed. One where she’s looking to the side mid-laugh, ponytail swinging. One where she’s walking off court, jersey in hand, eyes distant.

Paige: Wow.

Paige: These feel like someone knows me.

You almost cry right there in the lab.

The next week, she brings you a coffee before practice.

“I didn’t know what you liked,” she says. “So I guessed.”

You sip. It’s perfect.

She grins.

You sit in the bleachers, camera in your lap, pretending not to notice the way your hands shake when they brush hers. You take fewer photos now. Just watch.

She catches you one day.

“You’re not shooting.”

“I don’t need to,” you murmur.

She blinks. “Why?”

You meet her eyes. “Because you’re already burned into me.”

She doesn’t answer.

Just stares.

“You’re kind of intense.”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I know.”

And she doesn’t walk away.

Your roommate corners you in your room later.

“I saw her today,” they say. “At the café. She was looking around like she expected you to show up.”

You keep your eyes on your laptop.

“She likes you,” they continue. “Not just as a photographer.”

“She doesn’t even know me.”

“Maybe not yet. But she wants to.”

You laugh bitterly. “She doesn’t know what the gallery is.”

“Maybe she’ll figure it out.”

And that’s the fear.

Because once she knows—really knows—there’s no hiding anymore.

You photograph the team’s media day.

Paige wears a navy suit, sleeves rolled, hair slicked into a low bun. She looks like she could break hearts and make history in the same breath.

You’re shooting with studio lights this time. Professional. Impersonal.

She walks up to the backdrop and smirks.

“You gonna make me look good?”

You look through the viewfinder.

“You don’t need me to.”

She blinks.

You take the photo.

Later that night, you edit the set and linger on hers.

She looks directly into the camera in one of them. No smile. Just eyes. Steady. Intense.

You title it Contact.

Your professor says the gallery is coming together beautifully. “There’s something raw here,” he says. “Like you’re confessing without speaking.”

You don’t respond.

You can’t.

Because he’s right.

Every wall of the exhibit is a letter you were too afraid to write. Every photograph is your mouth wide open, screaming something you’ve never said out loud.

I see you. I’ve always seen you. And I love you.

You see her the day before the gallery opens.

She finds you by the gym loading dock, fiddling with a light meter.

“You’re nervous,” she says.

You don’t ask how she knows.

“I’ve seen you before games,” you mutter. “You’re nervous too.”

She shrugs. “Yeah. But I still show up.”

You glance at her.

She’s standing so close now. She’s never stood this close before.

“You coming tomorrow?” you ask.

She tilts her head. “Should I?”

Your throat tightens.

You nod.

She smiles. “Then I will.”

That night, you stay in the gallery alone.

Framing. Adjusting. Labeling.

Every photo of her.

You don’t use her name anywhere. But she’s there. Everywhere. In motion. In stillness. In fire. In rest.

You sit in the center of the room when it’s done, lights dimmed, heart full of panic.

Because if she comes…

She’ll know.

She’ll see what you’ve done.

She’ll see how long you’ve been loving her quietly.

And she might hate you for it.

But maybe—just maybe—she won’t.

The morning of the gallery opening, you wake up with your stomach in knots.

You barely sleep. You barely eat. You iron your shirt twice and still manage to spill coffee down the front. You change. You change again. And the whole time, the same thought keeps looping in your head like static.

She’s going to see.

No more hiding behind captions. No more pretending it’s just a school project. No more telling yourself you’re doing this for the grade, for the portfolio, for the art. The truth is, you did this for her. Always for her.

And now… she’ll know.

The gallery opens at 6 p.m.

By 6:03, there’s already a line.

You stand awkwardly near the back wall, pretending to be fascinated by a spot of dust on your lens cloth while your professors float through the space murmuring praise. Other students circle slowly, heads tilting thoughtfully, fingers reaching out but never quite touching the frames.

You hear their comments.

“She captured something really raw here.” “It’s like whoever this girl is… the photographer loved her.” “It’s almost uncomfortable how intimate this is.”

You don’t turn around.

You can’t.

Because you know where she’ll walk first.

And sure enough, at 6:21, you hear her voice.

“Wow.”

You freeze.

You don’t turn, but you know it’s her. Paige. You know by the soft scrape of her sneakers on the floor, by the way the air shifts around her. You know by the silence that follows.

She’s reading the first caption.

“She never needed the spotlight. She made her own light.”

She moves down the row.

“Even still, she burned.”

Then to the next.

“Stillness isn’t the absence of motion. It’s the presence of quiet knowing.”

She stops again.

“Sometimes I wonder if she knows how many people orbit her gravity.”

Your heart is a war drum in your chest.

“I never meant to love her. But what else was I supposed to do? She made silence feel like safety.”

You hear her breath catch.

And then, soft footsteps.

Coming closer.

You look up.

She’s standing in front of you.

Her eyes are glassy. Her voice is a whisper.

“Is this… me?”

You nod. Once. Terrified.

She looks back at the wall of images. Dozens of her. Laughing. Focused. Vulnerable. Beautiful. Seen.

“You did all of this?” she asks.

You don’t speak.

You can’t.

She turns back to you. “Why me?”

You swallow. “Because I couldn’t help it.”

There’s a pause. “How long?”

“Since the first photo,” you admit. “Since before I knew what it meant.”

She stares at you.

You brace for it—for anger. For disgust. For how dare you? But it never comes.

Instead, she walks back to the center of the gallery. Stares at the photo titled Faith—her alone at half court. The one you love most.

She reads the caption aloud.

“Some moments ask questions the mouth is too afraid to form.”

She looks at you.

And says, “Do you still love me?”

You blink. “I never stopped.”

She takes one step closer.

And then another.

She’s standing so close now you can feel her breath.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Because I didn’t think you’d look at me like this.”

She tilts her head. Her voice cracks. “I didn’t know what I was seeing until you showed me.”

And then she kisses you.

Right there, in the middle of the gallery. Surrounded by your confessions. Her body warm against yours. Her hands cupping your face. Your fingers tangled in the sleeves of her hoodie. People are still here. People are watching. You don’t care.

Because this—this is what it’s all been for.

When she pulls away, she leans her forehead against yours.

“I see it now,” she whispers. “I see you.”

Later, after everyone has gone, the two of you sit on the gallery floor beneath her favorite photo.

You talk.

Really talk.

About how she started noticing you way before she admitted it. How she didn’t understand why those photos made her feel exposed and safe all at once. How she would linger in the gym just to see if you’d stay. How she waited for you to say something and convinced herself you never would.

You tell her how scared you were.

She nods. “I was scared too. But I think love’s supposed to be a little terrifying.”

You look at her. “So this… this is real?”

She smiles, small and sure.

“Yeah,” she says. “This is real.”

You’re not used to being in front of the camera.

You’ve spent years hiding behind lenses and shadows, always the observer, never the subject. But now—Paige won’t stop taking pictures of you.

It starts the morning after the gallery.

You wake up in your apartment, sun leaking through the blinds. Paige is in your hoodie, legs tangled in the sheets, hair a soft, chaotic mess. She’s looking at you with a kind of reverence you don’t know what to do with.

“Good morning,” you whisper.

She grins.

Then lifts your camera.

“Smile.”

You groan, bury your face in the pillow. She laughs and snaps the picture anyway.

Click.

“You’re cruel.”

“No,” she says, curling into your side. “I’m in love.”

Days begin to blur.

Late nights editing photos turn into late nights tangled in each other, sharing headphones and frozen pizza. You still go to practices, still photograph her—but now, she winks at you mid-scrimmage. Now, she points to the camera and mouths mine.

The team starts to notice.

“You two seem... close,” Nika teases after a game.

“She’s just photogenic,” you say.

“She’s just whipped,” Paige counters.

Azzi chokes on her Gatorade.

Your professors rave about the exhibit. They use words like “vulnerable,” “startling,” “emotionally immersive.”

But Paige says your photos made her feel known.

That’s the only review that matters.

One evening, you walk the gallery again—now quiet, almost bare. The exhibit has come down. The frames packed. The spotlights dimmed.

But she’s still here.

Paige.

Sitting in the center of the room, on the same spot she stood when she saw it all.

“I miss it already,” she murmurs.

You sit beside her. “Me too.”

She turns to you, eyes serious. “Will you keep photographing me?”

You nod. “Always.”

She grins, eyes soft. “Even when I’m old and wrinkled?”

“Especially then.”

She rests her head on your shoulder. “You know what’s wild? All this time, I thought I was invisible when the cameras turned off. But you… you never stopped seeing me.”

“I didn’t know how to stop.”

She kisses your cheek. “Good.”

Graduation comes.

Paige wears her cap crooked. You wear yours backward. You hold her hand under your robe the entire ceremony.

Afterwards, your roommate takes a photo of you both in your gowns, laughing as confetti rains down. You think it might be your favorite image ever taken—because this time, you’re not behind the camera, and still, somehow, you're whole.

That night, Paige posts on Instagram.

It’s a black-and-white shot of you adjusting your lens, eyes serious, hair falling into your face.

She saw me before I ever knew how to look back. (And when I finally did… all I saw was her.)

It goes viral in an hour.

KK reposts it with five heart emojis and a “FINALLY.”

“The gallery girl??? IT WAS HER???”“This is the greatest love story never told until now.”“No one look at me I’m crying in a Denny’s.”“She loved Paige out loud without a single word.”

And somewhere deep in the thread…

This is what love looks like when it’s patient.

You still take photos.

Not for the school anymore. Just for you. For her.

Sometimes she steals your camera and turns it on you.

Sometimes you let her.

And sometimes—on the quietest nights—she asks to see the gallery again. Not the one on walls, but the one in your hard drives, your sketchbooks, your memories. You show her everything.

She looks at the oldest photos, the ones before she knew. The ones from the bleachers and the benches and the sidelines. She traces her face on the screen and whispers, “You loved me so early.”

You smile. “I didn’t know how not to.”

She kisses you—long, slow, grateful.

And says, “I’m really glad you never stopped looking.”

You live in a small apartment with white walls and big windows.

There’s a plant in every corner. Most of them are thriving—thanks to Paige.

The walls are lined with photographs, none of them framed. Just pinned, taped, leaned against things. Some are yours. Some are hers. Some are both.

There’s one right above your shared bed. A candid shot Paige took of you on a lazy morning—half-asleep, arms wrapped around her waist, face buried in her stomach. She titled it home.

You didn’t know she’d printed it until she surprised you by hanging it there on your anniversary.

It’s a Sunday morning when she walks into the kitchen in nothing but an old UConn hoodie and mismatched socks. Her hair is in a bun, and she’s carrying two mugs—your coffee exactly the way you like it.

She sets one down beside your laptop.

“Morning, babe,” she says, kissing the top of your head.

You’re already editing. It’s for a shoot you did for a local women’s league—portraits of overlooked talent, overlooked stories. It’s the kind of project you wish you’d had when you started. The kind of visibility Paige always wanted for girls in sports.

She sees the photo on your screen and whistles. “That’s sick. She looks like she could kill me in five seconds.”

“She probably could,” you mutter.

She leans in. “God, I love when you talk dirty.”

You snort into your coffee.

Later, you both go for a walk.

It’s tradition. No phones. Just you, her, and a camera if you feel like bringing one.

Today, you do.

You snap a photo of her holding a flower she picked off someone’s bush. You snap another of her shadow on the sidewalk. Another of her laughing after tripping over a dog leash.

You don’t ask her to pose. She doesn’t need direction.

She’s always known how to look at you now.

She always looks back.

You get lunch at the same café you always do. The one with the faded couch and the staff who know your orders. The one where you first showed Paige your final gallery portfolio before applying to grad school.

She still talks about that day.

You had hands that wouldn’t stop shaking and eyes that couldn’t quite meet hers.

And she had this smile, quiet and knowing. She looked at your work like it was sacred.

Because to her, it was.

“I found this while cleaning,” she says, setting it on the floor in front of you.

You raise an eyebrow. “Are you nesting?”

She shrugs. “Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted to walk down memory lane.”

You open the box.

Inside are photos.

Hundreds of them.

All of her.

All the old ones you thought you’d lost. Printed on glossy paper. Some in black-and-white. Some smudged with your thumbprints. All taken back when you were too scared to tell her how you felt.

“Where did you find these?”

She shrugs again. “You left them in a shoebox behind the water heater two apartments ago.”

You pick one up.

It’s the photo titled Faith.

Her sitting at center court, headphones in, head tilted to the sky.

“Still your favorite?” she asks.

You nod. “Always.”

She kisses you. “Mine too.”

That night, you curl into her side on the couch while some movie plays in the background.

You’re not watching it.

You’re looking at her.

She notices.

“What?” she asks.

“Nothing,” you whisper.

She smirks. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“The eyes thing. The heart-eyes thing.”

You roll yours. “You’re annoying.”

“You’re in love.”

You don’t deny it.

You just press your forehead to hers and say, “You remember what you asked me after the gallery?”

She thinks. “If you still loved me?”

You nod.

Her voice softens. “And you said yes.”

“I still do.”

She doesn’t say anything for a long moment.

“Can I ask you something else?”

“Always.”

She reaches behind the couch and pulls out a small velvet box.

You freeze.

She opens it.

A simple silver band. Understated. Beautiful.

Just like her.

She looks nervous. Really nervous.

“I never wanted to be someone’s subject,” she says. “I didn’t want to be seen and turned into a headline or a trophy or some narrative I didn’t write.”

You don’t breathe.

“But with you,” she continues, voice trembling, “I was never a subject. I was just… seen.”

She swallows.

“Will you keep seeing me for the rest of your life?”

You blink.

The air stutters.

You nod. Hard. Too hard.

“Yes,” you whisper. “God, yes.”

She laughs, slipping the ring onto your finger, fingers shaking. You kiss her like your whole life depends on it. Like she’s the beginning and the middle and the gallery that never ends.

Later that night, she turns off the light and whispers, “Still scared?”

You reach for her hand under the covers.

“No,” you say. “Not anymore.”

And you mean it.

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