#Men Beach Sandals | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kenyummy · 11 months ago

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BEACH DAY ꒰⚘݄꒱ BLUE LOCK

SYNOPSIS: as a manager during the nel, a well-deserved rest was needed. what better way to rest than a fun day in the hot summer air, in a bikini, at the beach?

note: this was originally a special for 100k reads on my wattpad book found (which u should SO read btw #shamelesspromo) but to avoid confusion i edited out a lot of mentions of the manager characters who were included in this short! i really hope you all enjoy!

TODAY

is a completely regular day of fun outings. Shidou had (in)formally organised a beach trip, something you decided would be a good idea. The NEL has been stressful on all of you, whether it be you and the other managers, the players, or even coaches—taking a good day off seemed to be a good idea.

So, you were heading to the beach.

The place where women can wear skimpy bikinis without being called promiscuous names (it would happen anyway—but in a perfect world everybody would mind their own business) and the place where strange men (some of those men may happen to be named Otoya and Aiku) would check out the local fauna dressed in said skimpy bikinis.

It was a fun day of splashing around in the waves, ignoring all problems present in your life, and unwinding in the grainy sand. You miss it. That is why, even though you're sure this will happen to end up in disaster, you agreed.

So, this is what got you in this predicament now—thirty minutes before you had to get there with a ten minute trip driving—that was all that was left for you to remember everything.

Swimming outfit. A change of clothes. Sandals that won't trap sand. What else...

You ponder as you stare down at your duffel bag, filled with everything you need. Money—food stalls at the beach were always ridiculously expensive for no apparent reason, Floaties—you never know when somebody might just need some abrupt saving. Towels—plenty of towels, A robe—you'll probably be a little chilly when you get out of the water.

Apart from the obvious essentials like hair ties, deodorant, sunscreen, keys and whatever other odd things you need whenever you go out—you think you're good to go.

You take a good look at your swimsuit. You haven't worn it in a while. A simple black two-piece with each front piece of fabric being held together with two silver rings—it's a little smaller than you would've liked, but you don't own any other kind, so you decide to just go with it.

You roll up your towel nicely and tuck it into your bag, then zip it up. You stare down at the fat duffel bag that is practically bursting at the seams. You are ready to take on the final boss—the beach.

You stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom, pulling at the tight elastic band of your bikini. It digs into your skin slightly. Hissing through your teeth—you decide it's nothing, and quickly make your way outside.

With your bag under your arm, you walk out and look around. Two of the other manager girls said they'd saved a spot underneath a bright purple umbrella. It takes little effort to spot it in all its neon glory.

They both sit atop a beach towel, with odd things like sunscreen, keys, and waterproof mascara all scattered around them. You wave a little before you sit down on a part of the towel, taking in the sight of the beautiful beach.

Children running around, adults chasing after them—some guy was even getting told off in the middle of the waves for losing his swim trunks. All in all, the beach was positively bursting with rich energy.

You missed this. You haven't felt this calm in a good while. Dealing with all those rowdy boys vying for your attention—it took a toll on you.

Too bad this peace would not last for too long.

Your phone dings. You pick it up and press on the notification—it's a snap from Shidou. You hesitantly click on the picture and it's a closeup of his left eye—but in the background, you can see the side of the building you had just changed inside, and a shirtless Otoya is trying to kick at somebody.

You don't even have the chance to properly react when a loud yell interrupts your thoughts. You snap your head towards the sound so fast your neck aches—the source was Rin on the floor while, even though a second ago a phone should've been in his hand, Shidou is jumping him.

A smart, sassy quip and loud groans erupts from both you and the other manager girls—you slap your phone down and squeeze your face in your hands.

Perhaps this is the start of doomsday, you think as the overly massive group starts making their way towards you and your blaring purple target of a neon umbrella.

"[name]!!" Bachira crashes into you—with the way he knocks you both to the sandy ground, he should be playing rugby instead of soccer—and rubs his cheek against yours like a loving cat. "I'm so excited to see you again! You never come by our stratum!!"

He's flat on top of you and the stares you're receiving start to grow uncomfortable. You push back at his chest but he simply opts to sneak his arms around your shoulders, "Bachira...!! Let me... get up..."

It takes the brute force of Barou King Shoei to remove his figure from latching onto yours. With a twitching brow and eyes that could stab daggers into Bachira—a small laugh unintentionally escapes your lips when he talks, "You're all sandy, you disgusting bug. If you get all that sand on the towel, I'll seriously kill you."

Bachira is being held up by the scruff of his water suit like a cat. He dangles in the air and flings himself at Barou next—"Fight me, king!"

"YOU—!!!"

Ignoring the upcoming brawl on the ground, you step over the two and you find your way towards...

"Hello, Isagi."

Your voice seems to make him jump—his eyes widen in surprise at the sight of your face and he looks far too nervous to be speaking to you. "O—Oh... Hello, [name]...! It's good to see you again..."

He's trembling and making such intense eye contact that you wonder if he's okay. His fists are clenched hard beside his body and you think he might just about have a heart attack. "Are you... okay?"

He answers a little too quickly, "Yes! I'm fine, haha, why would you worry about me? I'm totally good! Best I've ever been! Why would you ask? I look okay, right? Well, I gotta go now! I'll see you later, [name]!"

He runs off like he's a high school girl who's just had her first conversation with her senior crush. I can't tell if he's insecure about how he looks or worried about being disrespectful to me.

Maybe it's a mix of both. Isagi is on the slimmer side, compared to guys like Barou. Even though I know he's not, he looks like he's on steroids.

And Isagi's always been worried about being disrespectful to you—worried about overstepping boundaries and making you uncomfortable—at least when he's in his usual, clear state of mind. There's no telling what he's thinking when he stares down at you late at night after a good game with that overconfident, egotistical smirk.

Anyways—he's rushed away by now, and you're just standing here looking all stupid. Oh well. At least you're not alone for too long, because your attention is quickly stolen away by a certain trio.

Karasu, Otoya, and Yukimiya all come up to you—only one bothers to wave or even smile (there's no surprise he's a model—he's seriously gorgeous, you note when glancing down at his torso).

"Hey." The sneaky ninja is not so sneaky anymore, because he doesn't even try and disguise the way he's staring at your chest. He gives you a thumbs up, to which you scowl, "Lookin' good."

"Get your eyes off my chest."

"Sicko." Karasu shakes his head with a disappointed expression. You deadpan.

"You too, stupid crow."

"Did your mothers not teach you respect?" Yukimiya clicks his tongue—eyes fluttering closed as he shakes his head. He soon turns his head towards you and he actually does make eye contact with you—a step above his two friends. "It's nice to see you, [name]. You look very nice. Ignore these two."

You promptly ignore the offended looks shot at the model—you opt to just stare, perhaps a little too dreamily (but you couldn't care less, really), and smile back, "It's nice to see you too, Yukki. Thank you, you look handsome today, too. I was planning on ignoring those two, anyways."

"Woah, that is seriously hurtful." Karasu places a hand over his bare chest where his heart would be. "Too bad I don't care."

You roll your eyes. "Of course you don't, stupid crow."

"Would you stop calling me that?"

"Would you stop staring at my boobs?"

He pauses. "Point taken."

Having Nagi cling to you during your time at Blue Lock is pretty hard already. Believe it or not, he's 6'2, and believe it or not, having a grown 6'2 man hanging off your side makes it pretty hard to get around.

Having a shirtless, messy-haired Nagi plant himself right on top of you and having his face smushed against the top of your chest is a little worse.

You can feel a burning stare at the back of your head. You're not sure if the stare Reo is giving you is directed at you or the snow-haired boy. (Perhaps it is both and he's just conflicted—you would understand).

"Nagi..." You push back at his head and slowly intertwine your fingers in the white locks. They're softer than you imagined, but the ends are unmistakably dead. You should cut it for him later. "Go swim or something."

You are disappointed (yet, not the slightest bit surprised) when he promptly shakes his head no and proceeds to dig his nose even deeper into your exposed skin. His voice is slightly muffled, but still plausibly understandable, "Nuh-uh. Dun' wanna."

Your eyes twitch. Perhaps you have been spoiling him a little too much—so much so he refuses to leave you be.

"'Cause I didn't wanna go, but then mmmm... uh—Reo told me you were gonna come... and it wouldn't be too much of a hassle if you stayed with me. Hadn't seen you in so long. Missed you."

Right. You forgot he told you that before, too. Perhaps you had been a bit too doting on Nagi—he's clingy-er than you remember. Or perhaps it had been similar to that saying, distance makes the heart grow fonder.

A loud shriek (it sounds far too girly to have come out of Nagi's mouth, but go figure) alerts you and you see Nagi has been grabbed backwards into a headlock by Barou King Shoei. Perhaps he had turned away from the villainous side since your last meeting with him, because right now, he's saved you twice, like a hero.

Nagi doesn't even fight the King's death grip—he flops like a dead fish and it looks rather funny seeing it so closely. Nagi is taller, yet much lankier than Barou, who looks like a bodybuilder compared to the lazy snowhead.

"You're kicking sand all over the towel, Mr Hassleman." Barou snarls and jerks Nagi's head back. The boy doesn't react other than wearing his little :x face. "Go swim it off. Now."

Nagi does not make any visible effort to move. Barou still holds him like a ragdoll in his grip when he turns to look at you—you laugh a little and move your sunhat out of your eyes. "Hi, Barou. It's nice to see that you came. I didn't think you'd like the beach."

He looks a lot different with his hair down, you note. But in a good way. Fallen beneath his shoulders—you wonder why he does not wear it this way more often. He still holds his signature forever pissed-off expression, "What the hell is that supposed to mean? You think I'm incapable of having fun?"

You pause, with a small grin. "Yeah, kinda."

He gives you a deadpan expression. "You're the same as always, you shit manager."

"I thought our relationship had progressed to the point we'd gotten past these mean names." You place a hand over your chest, a cheeky smile on your lips with a faux-hurt expression. You didn't usually joke around like this—it wasn't really your thing—but he was just far too easy of a target to tease. "I'm hurt, King."

He cocks a brow—you see Nagi trying to wriggle around now, and it's good to know he didn't actually die—"Seriously? Didn't think you were the type of person to care."

"Doesn't matter now. You're gonna swim, right?" With a nod of his head, you break away from his sharp stare and give him a small wave with a closed-eye smile. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Oh yeah—by the way, you look good with your hair down. You should do it more often. Anyways, see you later."

You do not catch the half-hearted wave Nagi sends you—which was just him flopping his arm up in the air—nor do you catch the look Barou throws over his shoulder at you, "... Not too bad yourself."

He says, but you do not catch it.

Nagi stares up at the man with a blank expression, "Who knew you were all sweet on our manager, huh, King?"

The King in question growls like an animal and tosses Nagi into the ocean like a ragdoll, "Shut the fuck up!"

"Beach volleyball?" Chigiri stares with confusion in his bright pink eyes as Kurona sits on Gagamaru's shoulders—setting up the tall net. His hair is tied up in a high ponytail, and his bangs fall over his eyes. "Are you serious?"

His head turns to yours when you shrug, "Why not? Beach volleyball is super fun. It's not like you guys can play soccer on the sand."

Chigiri pauses to think your words over for a second. You give him the most empty stare you can muster before you speak, "You really can't play soccer on the sand, Chigiri."

"Well, still. Are you gonna play?"

You shake your head and spare him a small smile. "No, I think I'll pass on this one. I'd like to see you play, though. You seem like you'd be really good at volleyball."

He gives you a pretty smile and shakes his head. "Oh, I don't know. I wasn't really planning to play either. I was honestly just thinking of sitting down with you and just relaxing."

"Oh, but I really would like to see you play. I bet you'd be better than anybody else out there, Hyoma." Not to be brass or anything, but you like to think you know a good amount about Chigiri—including how to get him to do what you'd like: Fan his ego. Or to put it in better words, praise him. "I think you'd look pretty cool."

You give him the nicest smile you can muster, and you're sure that's what seals the deal. He turns his head away from yours—yet you can practically sense the smirk he now holds—"Well, if you really think so, why not?"

You laugh a little as he walks onto the court, and each side with six players—even if in official beach volleyball, there were only two on each side, this was the most unofficial game you've ever really witnessed.

Otoya and Karasu are jumping on each other's shoulders in an effort to block the spikes—it only ends in the one on top tumbling to the ground and Yukimiya shaking his head in an I'm not mad, just disappointed motion.

Bachira is using his feet to play, kicking the ball up even when his hands were a completely more viable option—you think this is illegal, but who are you to judge—and Shidou is doing the same thing, except he... is hogging the ball. You aren't even sure how you hog the ball in volleyball, but he's managing it.

Rin is the one who manages to get it away from him but it only ends up in another tussle—something you do not bother to stop because one of the manager are already running toward them with a can of hairspray (which, if you were not previously aware, has the same effect as pepper spray if directed into the eyes).

You loll your head back and let out a heavy sigh. This beach day was going better than you had expected—still, your group by far had gained the most traction from how loud you all ended up being. You've gotten countless stink-eyes from old people, especially when Shidou yells out profanities in the vicinity of little children.

You wonder if the police may get called on you all. Maybe you should pretend you're not in their group as a last-ditch effort if it does end up happening.

You are broken out of your thoughts by a small, almost nervous greeting, "Um... hey, [name]."

You look to where the source of the sound came from—you get an eyeful of Isagi's bare torso before you see his face. He's looking off to the side awkwardly as if the mere action of looking at you would be purgatory, and he looks like he doesn't know what to do with his hands so he grips the end of his swimming shorts awkwardly. It's cute.

"Hi, Isagi." You smile. You shuffle over to create a little more room on the towel you are sitting on. You pat the free spot beside you and nudge your head towards him, "Come sit."

Obediently—you didn't expect him to move so fast—he sits beside you. He still looks stiff and nervous, so you ask him what's up. He responds, quickly but much quieter than his usual calm tone, "I was... um... ah, this is so stupid..."

He sucks in a deep breath of air and turns his back towards you. It's a little more built than you imagined. "I was... just gonna ask if you could put sunscreen on my back... I can't reach, and I trust you more than the... others."

You can practically feel the way his face burns up from how his voice cracks and grows more hushed with every word. To save him from the embarrassment, you decide to spare him from teasing words. "Sure. I don't mind. I'm glad you trust me, Isagi."

The words come out a little more sultry than you intended as you test the waters and place your fingertips on his bare shoulders. He shivers. You can feel it.

You spread the sunscreen all over his back—he places his face in his hands as you work your hands a little lower. When your fingertips brush against the waistband of his shorts he has to bite back a small groan. This was utterly humiliating for him—seriously, this was sad.

You're not completely oblivious to this fact, so in a menial act of pity for the poor guy, you try and finish up as quickly as possible—if only to save him from the embarrassment.

It feels far too intimate to be just a friendly gesture. He wonders if you feel that way too. You lightly rest your palms on his tense shoulders when you are done, sitting on your knees and leaning your face near his own, "Done."

He'd be lying if he said his heart didn't skip a beat. He swallows thickly, blunt nails digging into his palms as he shuffles around so he faces you. The words that come out of his mouth are a little shakier than he would've liked, "T... Thanks... [name]."

The smile you have plastered on your face is nothing short of pretty, he thinks. "No problem. You can come to me if you need anything, okay?"

Why do you have to say things like that, [name]?

Isagi gives you a small nod, and practically forces a wavy smile onto his lips. "Yeah... You're really helpful, you know that?"

You laugh. "I know."

The mood between you two is calm and the strange tension from before has dissipated. You're smiling from ear to ear, about to say something—when Isagi's demeanour changes completely. You're not too sure why, but he seems to spot something behind you and his eyes completely shift.

Gone is the meek and shy boy, and in his place is a coy, smiling man. He places a hand on your upper arm—it makes you jolt and look at him in surprise. A second ago, he couldn't even look you in the eye, and now, he was shuffling closer towards you like it was the most natural thing ever.

"Anything, right?" He finally speaks, and he moves his hand up, away from your arm and it lightly traces underneath your jaw. He looks deeply into your eyes, but still keeps glancing behind you. "Can I do this?"

You do not get a chance to ask what this happens to be—although, it does not take a genius to figure it out, and you are no genius—or even spare him an answer before he grabs your hardcover novel and holds it up in front of where the two of your lips meet—covering your kiss from the other players that surround you all.

He doesn't dare take this further than a small kiss—yet, it wouldn't be considered a simple peck either. His hand holds the underside of your jaw lightly and tilts your head up so he can easily feel you and the back of the hard-cover book feels cool against your cheek.

You'd like to believe the reason your cheeks are on fire is from the blaring heat of the sun shining down on you—even though you are underneath the shade of that purple umbrella. His lips taste sweet, like a fruity drink. You think a stall nearby is serving something similar to that.

You can feel his smile against your lips, and he seems to be all too happy to have you like this. He tilts your face forward and your body has to follow—to the point you practically collapse into his lap. It feels much more intimate now that you can feel his bare skin against your own.

Isagi moves his hand down from your jaw down toward your waist, holding you taut against him and letting his fingertips rest in the dip of your back.

You finally end up moving backwards, and your sunhat almost falls off your head—Isagi quickly readjusts it when he pulls away. He gives you a sweet smile—though, it grows more cocky when he glances behind you again—and says, "You really are helpful, [name]."

You blush a little but still retain that same smile when his hands trace down your spine gently, romantically. "I know."

Isagi joins in on the beach volleyball fun with Nagi after Rin and Shidou leave in favour of taking a dip in the sea (you think you hear Shidou saying something about skinny-dipping, and you pray to every god imaginable you heard wrong), so you are left to yourself once more.

You are perfectly content. Your sunhat lay on the towel beside you and your legs are peeked out in the sun—reading your book where you last left off.

Your life is perfectly calm until it is not.

Hands suddenly cover your vision and all you see is darkness. You jerk your head up and are about to say something when a heavily accented voice suddenly rings out throughout your ears, "Guess who?"

You could recognise that voice in your sleep from how often it haunts your dreams. You recognise that voice even before you hear it. You slump down where you sit, letting out a heavy, almost tired sigh. "Kaiser..."

"Ah! How did you guess it so easily, hübsches Mädchen?" He removes the hands blocking your vision and he suddenly plops himself down, right in front of you—of course, his little guard dog is right by his side, sporting his usual guileless expression. "Perhaps you think of me far too often, hm? Also, I told you to call me Michael. We are closer than that, no?"

You shake your head, eyes slightly squinted at him. "I don't know about that. Hello, Ness."

The puppy-dog boy waves his hand at you, clearly delighted. "Hello, [name]!"

Kaiser looks annoyed at this interaction. He scoffs, rolling his electric blue eyes and waving you off mindlessly, lashes fluttering closed, "Whatever. I cannot believe you're just reading at the beach."

You raise a brow. "What's wrong with that?"

He picks up the book by its spine and tosses it nonchalantly on the towel beside you, lips curled downwards into a sneer, "It's terribly dorky. You look like a huge dork."

"You sound like you care about that more than me."

"I don't want my love interest to look like a huge geek. Appearances matter a lot, you know." Yeah, you make that really clear. He abruptly stands up—Ness scrambles to get up as well—and looks down at you, finger curling upwards towards you like he's beckoning you to follow him. "Come on."

You blink with your nose scrunched up. "Excuse me?"

He coughs into a closed fist, looking up at the bright blue sky so he doesn't have to meet your gaze. He still holds a hand out to you, "Come on. Don't keep me waiting."

You're so shocked that you actually find yourself following after him—though, you do not take his outstretched hand and it is left hanging awkwardly. Ness would've taken it.

Your sandals flop on the sand as you walk down the beach, past families and couples and people simply wanting to tan—you follow behind Kaiser in silence while Ness walks beside you. You hope people don't think of you three as a throuple. That would absolutely not be good for your image whatsoever.

You pause as soon as you realise exactly where he is leading you. He's stepped halfway into the water when you halt your movements right before the splash of a wave hits your toes.

"Yeah, no thanks." You abruptly turn on your heel and proceed to try and make a getaway—you don't get too far until Ness grabs your wrist and tugs you backwards. You tumble into him—somehow, he doesn't fall over and only grabs your upper arms in his hands with a frantic expression.

"Please, [name]! Kaiser really wants to swim with you!"

Kaiser hisses through his teeth lowly and stares at Ness like he's just cursed out his mother, "What the hell, Ness?! I never said that!"

The small boy does not make it very subtle when he gasps in shock. Ness slaps his hands over his mouth and shakes his head—his voice is muffled when he speaks, but you can still understand slightly, "I—I never said that! Nobody said that!"

He's so embarrassed the poor boy rushes into the water and disappears beneath the waves. You wonder if he has become one with the sea. In the distance, you can see Kurona and Hiori chilling on a large unicorn floatie—with drinks and colourful straws—that should've only been able to fit one person.

You and Kaiser are now just staring at each other in very much awkward silence. You take a languid step back. "Well... If you don't want to swim..."

Once again, you do not get the chance to dash away because he's grabbed you and pulled you into his grasp before you could even react. You look at him with wide eyes—but you're practically putty in his hands when he bends down and clasps his arms over the back of your thighs, throwing you over his shoulder like a menial sack of potatoes.

Your sandals fall off your feet as soon as you find yourself tucked over him—you let out a very loud, very offended, very embarrassed gasp of shock, "What the hell... ?! Kaiser—put me down! Sick bastard!"

Your words have no visible effect on him. Your head slumps down when you feel him walking, and your hair hangs over your head. You get a good eyeful of his back. He's also more muscular than you imagined. Makes sense why he could even do this. That doesn't mean you're not pissed, though.

You can't see his face, but you can practically envision his signature cocky smirk and how it paints his stupidly handsome features, "I'm all fine, hübsches Mädchen. Are you ready?"

Huh? Ready for what—!!!

You feel so indiscriminately stupid for even asking this question—you should've already known the answer—because you suddenly find yourself collapsing into the water, salt filling each of your senses and the loud noises of children screaming around you fading to muffled nothingness.

You jump up as fast as you can—you're just tall enough so you can stand with your chest above the waves. You start coughing to try and get the small amount of water you happened to swallow out of your system—your hair is now wet with the water and is suddenly heavier, and you're shivering cold.

Kaiser, the asshole he is, is laughing wildly at your expression. You push your hair away from your vision and you receive an earful of his—stupidly charming—laughter. His hands clamp over his mouth in a last-ditch effort to muffle himself, which only makes your face flush hotter with anger and your chest tightens.

You want to yell and scream into his face, but you choose the better way out. You puff your cheeks out and hold your breath as you dive back under, swimming behind him and slamming your foot into the back of his knees so that he tumbles forward, face-first into the water.

You've never felt prouder of yourself.

You bob your head back up and start to laugh wickedly now—it was his turn to look like a drowned rat. When his head comes above water, you can't help the tears of laughter that brim across your waterline when he gives you a deadpan, silently fuming glare.

His wet bangs cling to his face (somehow, it suited him—the mere thought made you feel a little angry, in the way that your stomach started to feel all weird and your heart skipped a beat or two) and his red eyeliner is smeared down his cheek. He pushes his blonde hair back, so that his damp bangs fall over his left eye and his hair is parted strangely to the side.

"Hmph." He looks away from your figure—you have to cling onto his shoulder to stop yourself from falling over, and your chest heaves up and down wildly to breathe. "I don't know what you find so funny."

You look up at him from your slumped position, eyes squinted upwards and you're practically sparkling with joy, "You... you look hilarious! Ahahaha—look at you! I can't—" Your words are cut off by your gasps for air.

Kaiser does not look the least bit impressed. He stares down at where your cheek is planted on the side of his neck, right where the blue rose lies. His hands stabilise you by falling into the small of your back—right where Isagi's fingertips once touched.

You finally regain your composure and move away from how you were practically pressed up against him—your cheeks are starting to hurt from how hard you were smiling, and you now sport a much calmer sort of grin when you stare up at him. "Ah... I'm sorry—don't look so mad—"

He rolls his eyes, which makes you chuckle, hands resting on his shoulders, "Oh come on... don't look at me like that... I'm sorry..." Your tone is far too playful to sound apologetic. He is slightly enjoying the attention you bestow upon him, but the thought makes his head hurt so he chooses not to reflect on it. "Michael..."

Fuck. His name sounds so nice coming out of your mouth.

He still keeps up the annoyed act, however, even when you grin up at him with that stupidly pretty, stupidly knowing look, "Don't be like that... I'm sorry, okay? What do you want me to do to make it up to you?"

The blonde pauses, blinking owlishly and looking down at you. You are still smiling, and he can feel your heart beating loudly in your chest. You almost look dazed, probably from your previous session of full-blown laughter.

His hands still rest lowly on your hips. He moves one and tilts your chin up with his thumb, "Hm." A smirk coils onto his lips and in an instant you can see the happiness that practically radiates off his being. "I think this will suffice, for now."

He leans forward, and suddenly, he is kissing you. Unlike Isagi—he wastes not a second to slip his tongue between your lips and kisses you as deeply and passionately as he can muster—it's so Kaiser, so him that it makes your stomach twist within itself.

His hands run down the side of your body—the places where his rough fingertips meet the skin that you usually cover with clothing make you jolt and goosebumps form on your wet skin.

His bangs tickle your cheek and despite how wet they are, they are soft. His left, tattooed hand finds itself on the side of your stomach and his blunt nails sink into the soft flesh—he grabs at whatever he can get his hands on. It's lowly and desperate and so unbefitting, so uncharacteristic of him—but in this moment, he can hardly find it within himself to care.

The hot sun beams down on you both and it causes your head to grow all hot and fuzzy—Kaiser's natural warm body heat is not helping either. You're feeling so much all at once that your hands unconsciously place themselves on his bare chest in a small attempt to create a sliver of distance between you two.

It does not work. Your torso leaves no room or gap as you're sunken into his arms—it makes him groan into your mouth and god, you almost feel sick to your stomach when you realise your first thought after hearing it is that you really want him to do it again.

You're not underwater anymore, but you might as well be. Every sense is muffled—the children screaming, the cool, glittery water that surrounds your bodies, even the blackness that clouds your closed-lidded vision—all you can feel is him, his tongue in your mouth and his hands running all over the smoothness of your skin.

Suddenly, you feel your lungs aching, and you realise you need air. You try to pull away—but his face follows yours like he's a mindless dog, and you could've laughed at it if you had not been so stripped of oxygen. You need air and yet he's kissing you like you are his air—it's a fact that makes your cheeks flush red hot.

The only option you can think of is the next action you take—you squeeze your hand out of where he presses your chests impossibly close and entangle them within his damp, blonde locks—tugging backwards and forcing him to leave the slightest amount of space between your mouths, so you can gasp for air.

Your hand tugging at Kaiser's long hair, hard, and you hotly panting into his mouth—he'd rather be caught dead than admit this aloud, but it doesn't feel half bad.

Your eyes crack open slightly, and you have to choke down a laugh when staring at his expression. His face is flushed bright red—compared to his usual pale complexion—and his squinted cerulean eyes are clouded with unmistakable desirable passionate lust.

"Scheiße, hübsches Mädchen." He curses lowly, chest rising and falling erratically as he pulls you in even closer—if that were possible. You can feel every ridge and bump of his hard torso against you and the smirk that pulls across his lips makes your heart pound. "You make my heart race."

When your breathing starts to even, he closes the gap between you both once more, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth and biting down—you whine into him and he kisses you softly as some sort of minor apology—you'd never hear the word sorry come out of his lips, after all. His hand dips down to trace up and down your spine, while the other rests below your ass.

He slides his lips away from yours, down your neck and he rests his face in the crook between your neck and shoulders—pressing languid, open-mouthed kisses against the salty skin. His hair falls over his shoulder and trickles into the water like molten honey—it flutters around in the sea and he looks stupidly gorgeous like this.

Now that he's not blocking your vision nor taking over each of your senses, you can see now see the distant figures of your friends all playing together in the sea, including that of Isagi. He's talking together with the others and having fun while you're over here, making out with one of his most hated rivals.

Still, you can't find it within yourself to give it a second thought when his teeth sink into your neck, and his hands tighten around your upper thighs. He lifts his head after you whimper a little and push him back—he follows where your eyes lead and you're sure he also happens to see the head of your dear friend.

The smile that curls across his lips is nothing short of dangerous. "Oh, is that Yoichi? Are you worried about him seeing us?" You do not give him a verbal answer, but the way you look down and the way your lips tremble gives him everything he needs. "How cute. No worries."

He lifts his face and all you can see is him. His hair falls over his shoulder and his bangs tickle your cheek once more. His touch is undeniably soft despite the carnal look he sports in his sharp, angled eyes. "Why don't we give him a show, hübsches Mädchen?"

He whispers so delicately—you do not have the mind to shake your head no, nor do you protest when he slips his tongue between your obediently open lips once more, hands tucked around your hips.

Your heart will not stop pounding. Kaiser smiles at the fact that he is doing this to you. He smiles at the fact you are like mindless putty in his hands, and he smiles at the fact that he can feel bright blue eyes staring holes into him—there's nothing wrong with showing off, right?

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organic-bloodbath · 2 months ago

Text

Knife Princess

Chishiya x Reader

Summary: You're Niragi's little sister, and he's not happy of Chishiya's interest on you. When the final game starts and you get hurt, Chishiya takes care of you.

Warnings: 18+ smut, lots of blood ig.

A/N: I was writing a Chishiya request but realised half way i needed to write a prequel for that first lmao. So, this will have more parts coming up ✨️

Chapters

♤♡♧◇

During your time at the Beach, Chishiya became intrigued by you. He analyzed your movements when you weren't watching - atleast he thought you didn't notice him.

He could see that men eyed you while you were laying by the pool in your bikinis, but nobody dared to approach you. Everyone knew you were Niragi's sister and that terrified the shit out of them.

Why? Because Niragi seemed to be a little overprotective of you. If he could see even one pair of male eyes thirsting over you, Niragi wouldn't hesitate to beat them up. People here had seen that happen several times. Some men thought they'd get away with a little bit of flirting, but Niragi seemed to have eyes everywhere at any times.

One day, Chishiya watched you, sitting by the edge of the pool once again in your yellow bikinis, legs tangling in the water to cool yourself down. You were enjoying the sun, black sunglasses resting on the bridge of your nose. You weren't aware of his gaze, you had no idea how his eyes lingered on your skin. Atleast, that's what he thought.

Chishiya turned around just for a moment to leave, and suddenly you had appeared right behind him.

"You like what you see, hm?" you asked and put your hands on your hips. Chishiya stayed silent, an amused look on his face as he turned around to face you. "I've seen you looking at me, you know," you smirked and bit your lip. "You're not as sneaky as you think you are."

"Is that so?" Chishiya hummed.

"Mhm. A lady like me has grown eyes on her back too," you said proudly.

"I see," Chishiya said, intrigued once more. "So, tell me. Why do you wear boots at the pool?"

Chishiya had noticed that you always had the same leather boots on, while most people wore sandals or were just bare foot.

You only smiled and tilted your head, slowly stepping closer to him so you could reach to put your hands on his shoulders. You leaned so close to his face that you were only inches away from him, and he could feel your minty breath when you whispered: "You'll have to take them off and find out."

And then, only with a smile and a wink you let go of him and turned around, leaving him to stand there by himself to go back inside.

Chishiya wasn't sure if he only imagined it, but it felt like you swayed your hips more dramatically than usual as you knew that he would watch you walking away. If your plan was to not let Chishiya's eyes leave your body - you succeeded with that.

"Careful," Kuina said next to Chishiya. "Don't let Niragi see that you were checking his sister out."

"I wasn't checking her out," Chishiya denied, but he knew that it was a lie. He knew that he'd be dead if Niragi found out even about his thoughts on you, but Chishiya also knew that you were a woman with your own choices.

"Mhm, whatever you say," Kuina said, a hint of worry in her voice.

♤♡♧◇

After your short talk by the pool, it took only two more days to get Chishiya to take you into his bedroom and push you on his bed.

You knew that with right words, you could get any man that you wanted. Not every man could be seduced with the same methods, however, so you needed a little time to calculate what kind of person you were dealing with. You let men flirt with you here, even though you didn't plan to actually do anything with them, but you knew it pissed off Niragi and you enjoyed that.

Of course you wouldn't sleep with everyone here, though, you did have quite high standards and a specific taste and none of the men at the Beach had raised your curiosity enough.

Until you met Chishiya. He stood out from the crowd, usually staying mostly by himself or with a limited one to two people. You wanted to get to know him. No, you needed to get to know him. Maybe not emotionally yet, but atleast physically.

Truthfully, you hadn't had sex in months, you needed it much more than you had thought. Chishiya sucked all the stress and worry off you with his touch which gave you pleasure, even if it was only for a moment.

Right now, Chishiya had you pinned on the bed under him, holding your hands above your head and planting kisses around your neck and collarbones. You didn't know how he managed to find all the sweet spots which made you go insane already on your first time together, but he did nevertheless.

He untied the top of your bikini and threw it away, not caring where it would land. He took off his shirt as well to stay fair with you.

He peppered kisses all around your body as he slowly crawled back, until his head was located between your legs. He pulled the bottom of your bikini off, seeing now every part of your body. It didn't take long for him to rub your clit and push his fingers inside, starting to explore your vagina with different movements.

"Oh, fuck," you gasped. He moved his hand away for a moment but you quickly stopped him by grabbing his hair. "Wait, can you- can you do that again?"

Chishiya smirked. "Do what again?" he asked. "This?"

You arched your back as Chishiya pushed his fingers back inside you, curling his fingers just in the right angle like he had done earlier. You had to grab the bedsheets into your fists to stay still.

When he pushed himself inside you, you felt like this was what you had needed the most during your time at the Beach. During all the games.

Sleeping with him was something you felt like you had needed for years. He was the perfect balance of both rough and gentle in the best way possible to give you pleasure in its highest form.

You had no idea how much time passed while you were trapped between his body and the mattress, you were in complete ecstasy and you never wanted him stop what he was doing.

You were sure your body would be full of marks he had created on your body and you'd have to show it off to everyone, but right now, right at that moment, you didn't care about anything besides you and him.

♤♡♧◇

"What's that?" Niragi asked next morning and stepped closer to you, looking at the bruises on your neck, trying to hide themselves behind you hair. He grabbed your hair and yanked it back to see your neck better. "Are those hickeys? Who made those?"

"What is it for you?" you spat. "You can do whatever you want with whoever and so can i."

Niragi narrowed his eyes for your attitude.

"Who," Niragi growled with a low voice, finger pressing on one of the many bruises, his dark eyes directly on yours, "made that?"

You just grinned smugly.

"Try to guess," you challenged him.

♤♡♧◇

"You fucked my sister?!" Niragi shouted louder than ever before. Chishiya jumped back when he saw Niragi storming towards him, pointing his rifle towards Chishiya.

"Well, to my defense, she came to me," he said, lifting his hands up to surrender and trying to ignore the rifle, inches from his face.

"Out of all the girls here, dozens of them, you just had to choose her?!"

"Niragi, we're-"

Niragi put his gun down and instead grabbed Chishiya by his shirt and slammed him against the wall. Chishiya winced a little when the back of his head hit hard on the wall but otherwise he kept his regular pokerface.

"What should i do with you now, hm?" Niragi asked. "Shoot you dead right here right now or take a knife and carve little marks on your skin before shooting you. Any last wishes?"

He took a knife from his pocket, pressing the tip against Chishiya's cheek, a little too close to his left eye.

"Did you want to get a revenge on me? I thought we were buddies, man."

"Listen," Chishiya chuckled nervously in Niragi's tight grip. "Just let me down and we'll-"

"I know she's pretty, obviously, it's in our genes," Niragi interrupted, not caring to listen to Chishiya's defense. "But atleast talk about it before to me, man. Don't just go and screw her like that."

"So, if i had asked you for your blessing to sleep with your sister, you would have been okay with that?"

The anger rose back to Niragi's eyes. Chishiya was basically throwing more fuel into the fire flaming inside Niragi.

"Niragi, what are you doing?" you shouted from the end of the hallway before Niragi would be able go put a bullet in Chishiya's skull, walking towards the two guys with long steps. "Let go of him this instant."

"Or what?" Niragi asked. "You'll stab me over this guy?"

"If i have to," you said and crossed your arms against your chest.

"You can't be serious-"

You pulled a knife from your boot and pointed it at him.

"Let. Him. Down." You gritted your teeth, the same kind of anger in your eyes as in Niragi's. "Or you'll lose an ear."

Niragi huffed and let Chishiya go, coming towards you.

"Seriously, Y/N?" he whispered to you. "Him?"

"Mind your own damn business," you spat.

Eventually, Niragi left, but he wasn't in a good mood. At all. You hadn't seen him that angry in a while. You didn't lash out at him like that because he was threatening specifically Chishiya, no. You were just tired of Niragi constantly meddling into your business with men over and over again. Whenever you'd have a single hickey on your neck, and Niragi saw that, he'd immediately lose his temper for someone touching you - as witnessed here. It had been the exact same back at home before ending up to this world, but back then he only had his fists and not a gun. You had tried to make him quit it so many times but he wasn't having it.

You let out a frustrated groan, and Chishiya walked towards you now that Niragi had disappeared.

"So, you always carry knives with you wherever you go?" Chishiya asked, hands in the pockets of his white hoodie and an amused smirk on his face. "That's why you wear boots even with a swimsuit?"

"Shouldn't everyone carry a weapon with them?" you asked seriously, raising an eyebrow. "You never know when you need to defend yourself."

"Fair," Chishiya admitted.

You stepped right in front of Chishiya and put your hand behind his neck, slowly caressing his shoulder.

"Want to have a round two in my room tonight?" you asked, clicking your tongue.

"I'm not sure if i want to lose my right eye for that," Chishiya smirked, still feeling the cold blade against his cheek.

"Niragi's not the boss of me," you said and rolled your eyes. "I'm not some little kid that needs to be protected."

"Oh i can definitely see that," Chishiya agreed and nodded.

"So, my room tonight." You put your finger on hips lips. "Don't make me wait too long, hm?"

♤♡♧◇

The fire was flaming high outside, waiting for corpses to be thrown in there.

When the 10 of Hearts game started and Aguni's men were slaughtering people left and right, you only sat back and watched the shitshow. You knew Niragi would never allow anyone to touch you so you weren't afraid of being accused of being the witch and getting thrown into the fire.

That was, as long as he was there to witness it, and right now he wasn't. Still, you didn't stress about the game nearly as much as the others there.

You had no idea what Chishiya and others were doing, but right now you really, really just craved for a snack and was heading towards your room.

However, before you managed to get any further, someone grabbed you by your hair and yanked you towards them, causing you to let out a small cry for the pain on your scalp.

"Ha! Maybe she's the witch!" a man, who you didn't know at all, shouted at your face, spit flying on your cheekbone. "Let's burn her!"

One more guy joined him to drag you towards the place where the fire was located. But they weren't able to get very far.

You managed to get free yourself from their grip, then reached for your boots and took the two knives out of them. You didn't hesitate a moment longer as you threw the knives towards the two men, the blades digging deep into the men's necks.

You had practiced throwing knives for the past decade - as a nice little hobby of yours.

The men fell on their knees, and you kicked them on their chest, causing them to fall on their backs. You leaned down to remove the knives from their throats, leaving them to bleed out on the carpet. You wiped the blood on the men's shirts, then putting the knives back into your boots and continued your way towards you room.

As you walked through the corridor, you didn't notice two pairs of eyes watching you behind a corner.

"Well, i sure wouldn't want to anger her," Kuina mumbled. She was in shock how such a small girl was able to take down two grown men at that speed.

"She managed to surprise me too," Chishiya admitted, arms crossed on his chest. And very few people did surprise him anymore, both Kuina and Chishiya himself knew that. "Although, she's related to Niragi, so i don't know if i should have been surprised."

♤♡♧◇

A little later, you were leaning against one of the pillars on the 3rd floor, watching Aguni beat up Arisu with all his strength. You felt another presence join you, but you didn't need to turn your head to see who it was.

"Enjoying the show?" Chishiya asked.

"It's like watching a violent theatre play with real blood."

"Mhm," Chishiya hummed. "Hearts games are brutal but this is definitely something else."

"It's kind of entertaining how insane people can go during the Hearts games," you commented and turned your head towards Chishiya. "Did you ever suspect me as the witch?"

Chishiya eyed you for a moment.

"You could have pulled it off," he admitted. "With those knives and all."

"Aw, i'm touched," you smiled, hand on your chest. "If i was proven to be the witch, would you have been able to burn me in the fire?"

"Well," Chishiya started slowly and turned his face back to the crowd downstairs. "Everyone just wants to survive and get out of here, right?"

You didn't say anything back, only followed the events happening two floors down.

After everything had finally started to calm down, the fire suddenly spread and Niragi stepped inside, looking like he had been thrown into the fire too but got out before turning into complete ash.

"Oh, shit," you mumbled.

Niragi started to shoot in every direction possible with his rifle, not caring who he hit with the bullets. He wanted everyone here to die, that was for sure. He shot not only vertically everywhere, also up in different angles.

That meant, also right into your direction. Chishiya pulled you back, but just a second too late. You felt burning pain on your right shoulder and right after your leg, blood starting to pour out of the wounds. You stumbled backwards, but Chishiya managed to catch you and held you up by your waist.

His eyes widened when he saw your shoulder being painted red, as well as your leg.

"This just isn't my day, is it?" you chuckled, trying to ignore the pain radiating through your arm and make fun of the situation.

Chishiya didn't have much time to start patching you up right now, you had to leave this place as soon as possible to get to safety.

"Wait a moment, i'll be right back," he said and left you there on your own for a moment, running to the room where you had previously been. For a minute you were afraid he had actually left you here to bleed out, not wanting to deal with your injuries.

Chishiya grabbed a first aid kid, towel and brought them with him as he hurried back to you as fast as he was possibly able to run.

"Hold these," he said and gave you the kit and the towel, then scooping you in his arms. He knew he couldn't run very fast carrying you, but it would be faster than dragging you by his side.

It didn't take too long for people to burn the witch and finish the game just before the time would run down to zero. You had finally passed the last game.

As you sat outside and watched the mansion burn down among all the other survivors, Chishiya was by your side sewing the bullet wound shut with a needle and thread. The bullet had exited your body on the back, so Chishiya was more than thankful that he wouldn't need to start operating on you any deeper.

You had started to look pale and feel dizzy for all the blood loss, but you managed to stay conscious. He had wrapped the towel tightly around your leg. It had been white, but was now dyed half red.

"Shiya..." you mumbled, but he didn't lift his face towards you, only concentrated on stitching you up. "I promise i'm not getting hurt on purpose just to get you to touch me."

Your words did amuse Chishiya and you could see a slight smirk on his face.

"Good, because i don't have any more supplies to left to treat your wounds," Chishiya said and cut the thread off, leaving you with clean stitches on your skin. He finally looked into your eyes, looking serious and worried. "Let me know immediately if the stitches open and you start bleeding again, got it?"

"Are you like a doctor or something?" you smiled and bit your lip.

"Something like that," he answered, and you could see a little smile on his lips as well.

"I've never slept with a doctor before," you admitted. "Before the Beach, i mean."

"Was it on your to-do list?"

"Might have been," you said. "Along with a firefighter, of course."

"Too bad we didn't have firefighters at the Beach," Chishiya concluded. "Would have saved us a lot of trouble. Or if there was, they clearly failed their job miserably."

"Perhaps," you said slowly. "I would have still chosen a doctor first though."

"Hm, really?" Chishiya wondered. "Good to know. So, your type is men who can save you from trouble?"

"I'm not a damsel in distress," you scoffed, coming off as offended and a bit too defensive.

"And still i did have to carry you out of there," Chishiya pointed out.

"Shut up," you said and gently hit him on his shoulder.

"You'll promise to take it slow with your arm and leg, okay?" he stated seriously.

"Of course, doctor," you teased and bit your lip. "How can i ever repay you for taking such a good care of me?"

"I have a few things in my mind, but i think we should go somewhere private first," Chishiya reminded and sat next to you, putting his hand around your waist for a moment.

"Why aren't we already leaving then?" you asked and brushed your finger against his collarbone, right by the zipper of his hoodie.

"Tempting, but i'd rather have you rest for a moment," Chishiya said and pulled you tighter against his body, whispering right into your ear: "But don't worry, i'll make sure to find us some time alone."

His hot breath against your ear sent chills down your spine.

♤♡♧◇

A/N: I'll have update for the Child of Hearts too at some point no worries, just have to figure out some scenes for it and shape it a lil bit 🫶🏻

#chishiya shuntaro imagine #chishiya imagine #chishiya alice in borderland #aib x reader #aib chishiya #aib imagine #alice in borderland imagine #alice in borderland x reader #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x reader

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taelophone · 14 days ago

Text

Daddy, not daddy

trigger warnings ; smut . penetration . daddy kink . degradation (from both parties) . car sex / public sex . cops catch you, but not really . not fully proofread .

event ۶ৎ taglist

For the first time this summer, you had a stark change of scenery. There was no sand yo invade your undergarments, you weren’t forcefully applying sunscreen to your roommate, and you weren’t being lulled to sleep by the vicious bickering of sky-flying seagulls.

The excessive luggage could be heard thunking and clunking against each other— hard polycarbonate kissing the scratchy ballistic nylon with each bump in the road. Taking a vacation from your vacation home was rare, but it wasn’t unwelcome this time around now that someone else’s hands were on the wheel.

“So what’s the plan for Vegas? Are we going to like…a casino, the Grand Canyon, a cool bar?” You asked, your sandals propped up on the dashboard as you stuck your hand in a crinkly bag of Lays Plain.

“I kinda lied,” he chuckled, a sheepish and endearing smirk on his lips. “We’re going to Vegas for like three days, then I'm gonna drive us over to Santa Monica so we can go surfing.”

“Yes. Because leaving the beach to go to another beach makes sooooo much sense!” You nodded, flashing him a patronizingly bright smile.

“Don’t sass me, woman.”

“Don’t be a dick, man.”

“Sorry,” he smiled, leaning over to peck your forehead. “I hate when we fight. It’s like divorce. Don’t divorce me, I love your house.”

“Couldn’t even say I love you, oh, men ain’t shit…”

The ride was set for two days and roughly six hours. That’s forty-eight hours of uninterrupted Luigi chatter, shitty radio signals, cramped spaces, and possible road disasters. You trusted Luigi with your life, of course, but to think you were stuck in a car that wasn’t yours with a man you invited in based on general suicidal behavior was insane.

Well…maybe not suicidal. Unsafe? Dangerous? Either way, crazy circumstances.

“I mean, we don’t have to drive for two days straight…we can make pit stops in different states. Grab souvenirs, you know? We don't have kids, so literally anything can go in the back,” You beamed, already buzzing with excitement about all the pretty clothes and cool trinkets you could bring back home.

“We don’t have kids yet you’re right! That sounds fun actually,” he nodded.

“Excuse me?”

“Huh?”

“What?”

“Ten-two, yo.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You giggled, rolling your family-size bag of chips up and placing them in the stuffed glovebox. Luigi was no stranger to casual flirting, that much was clear.

You watched the pastel-painted buildings grow sparse, the Beachy aesthetic fading from the architecture the further you strayed from the coast. No more boardwalks, no more ice cream parlors, and no more individually decorated doors with seashell wreaths.

You plugged your charger into your phone, ensuring you’d have enough charge for the duration of the trip. In the meantime, you decided to play some music from your playlist to drown out the luggage sounds.

Luigi’s love for open windows proved to be rather calming. The whistling wind cascaded through your veins and teased your scalp while Wallows began to sing about being “uncomfortable but not uncomfortable.”

A shared sigh fell from you and Luigi. Your muscles relaxed, the air was free of fish and salt, and the mellow waves from the radio crashed over your ears like seafoam.

You could hear the quiet humming from Luigi as he slowly bobbed his head to the not-so-heavy bass of Wallows. Clearly, he loved indie alternative.

You spent four hours talking and listening to the music, bouncing back and forth between endless banter, philosophical questions, and your plans. The amount of chatter between you two would have scared off an agitated introvert hours ago.

“Hold on, we’re coming up on a gas station…I wanna fill the tank before we keep going,” he rasped, turning into the rest stop and gas station. “Then we can get water and something from the store.”

“Bet.”

You climbed out of the car, slamming the silver door shut by pushing it with your hip. You let him pump the gas outside while you waltzed in the rather large “pit stop” hybrid, containing roughly five different concession stores. Cook Out, Starbucks, Seven-Eleven, Auntie Anne’s, and a little souvenir and travel shop.

You got a little coffee from Starbucks, purely so you could stay awake for a little longer, before toddling your way into the travel shop to pick out a neck pillow and some little charms for your car keys back home. The options were many, from pretty pink prints and white leopards to simple blue and solid black.

You knew Luigi would want to pay for the travel stuff, so you pulled your attention away from travel and focused primarily on the souvenirs. There were soft mini plushies, name tag charms, enamel pins, pretty pink West Virginia memorabilia—

“Are you looking with your hands and not your eyes?” A gruff voice gasped, immediately dropping both his hands on your shoulders and making your soul jump out of your skin.

“OH! My god…Luigi, be normal,” you sighed, clutching at your palpitating heart.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, not at all apologetic. “Hi, hon. Did you find anything?”

“I wanted to get a neck pillow and a blanket…they have Hello Kitty ones over there,” you nodded, pointing to the multitude of cheap fuzzy blankets folded on a shelf.

“Of course, you did…all evil women love Hell Kitty,” he joked, picking up one of the cheap water-resistant cameras and aiming it at you.

You scowled at him, lifting your shirt halfway over your chest to faux-flash your black and white bra.

“Hey! Absolutely not, don’t be bad!” He laughed, immediately putting the camera down.

“Sorry, Daddy,” you droned, shrill and penetrative to his ears as you dropped your shirt with a huff and a chuckle.

“That is…” he paused, his brows nearly touching his hairline as he clasped a hand over the bottom half of his face. “Let’s go get some food and things!”

You paused, a confused pout in your lip as your brows furrowed with query. He seemed to be a little stuck on that…what was that about?

“Running from me is crazy…” you chuckled, toddling behind him as he picked out some stuff. A flashlight, a plain blue neck pillow, 5 containers of five-hour energy, veggie chips…and many more snacks that only a grown man on a bulk would consume.

“Not running, I’m right here hon,” he stated, grabbing a Hello Kitty blanket from the shelf and tucking it under his arm while you grabbed the things you wanted, plus a disposable camera.

“Wow, so kind…staying put with the evil Hello Kitty woman? You’re so brave,” you teased, placing everything on the counter and letting the cashier ring everything up.

“I know, I deserve a veteran license plate. Taming cats since day one—“

“Don’t be gross.”

“My bad.”

You exited the little pit stop, Starbucks and blanket in hand while Luigi juggled about 4 grey plastic bags. As soon as you left the store, the bright sun rays beamed down on both of you and highlighted how cold the store was after adjusting to its central air.

“Thank you, dearest Luigi, you are so kind and giving in nature,” you mused, fighting back chuckles as you made your way to the silver Kia parked just a couple of feet away by a gas pump.

“It’s nothing, swear. I live in your house, it's the least I can do,” he assured, pulling open your car door after shifting all bags to his right hand.

“THANK YOU DADDY!!” You squealed, reminiscent of a flock of geese honking at a piece of bread thrown in their territory.

“Stop that!” He faux-scolded, the smile proving to be much stronger than his red-hot embarrassment.

You didn’t miss the way the apples of his cheeks went cherry red and how his eyes darted away from yours. When you were back on the road he was a lot less talkative too, like he was deep in the back of his mind.

Tends shoulders, slightly furrowed brows, pin-straight posture, clenched jaw…was he angry about your joke? Did you really take it too far—

Oh my god, he’s bricked.

You averted your eyes as quickly as they landed on the proof of the problem, thanking God immediately that he was a responsible driver who kept his eyes on the road. You smiled, impish in all its nature as you propped your ankles back up on the dash.

“That’s a bad habit you have,” Luigi pointed out, glancing at your sudden movement briefly.

“As if you don’t have bad habits of your own. I fished you from the ocean at midnight,” you quipped, raising a challenging brow at him.

“What’s up with you today?” He chuckled, narrowing his eyes at you slightly. “You’ve been on like, ten. All morning. It’s great.”

“What’s up with you? Y’got something you wanna tell me?” You smiled, turning your legs away from the front windshield and resting them right over his crotch, ignoring the awkward obstacle console.

He sucked in a sharp breath, filtering the cold air through his teeth. He shot you a glare— devoid of its usual humor and pacifism.

“I’m in the middle of driving…we crash, we die,” he reprimanded. He was serious, but there was a layer of lust underneath his words that almost dared you to keep going.

You scrambled upright in your seat, sitting on your calves and heels as you subtly frowned at him. The kind of glare a wife would give her unruly husband to let him know to knock it off.

“But what kind of friend would I be if I let you drive all pent up? Wouldn’t that fuck up your focus?” You purred, your hand now greedily palming the large bulge in his jeans.

The car swerved— a sharp curve to the left lane as a slightly pathetic sound clawed its way up from the back of Luigi’s throat.

“Oh, you fucking animal,” he spat, a grin forming on his lips that screamed danger.

Without much hesitation, he pulled over on the side of the empty and wooded road, placing the car in park.

“Move. Get in the back, don’t act shocked!” he ordered, grabbing you by the back of your calf and tugging you to the back with him.

“Wait, I was just playing—!” You squeaked, a devilish grin on your face as he tossed you right on the leather cushioned seats.

“No you weren’t,” he dismissed, wrapping one of your legs just above his hip while your arms scrambled for something— anything — to hold.

“Stop that,” he grumbled, popping the side of your thigh as soon as you attempted to reach for his pants.

He slipped your pants down, checking the back windshield to see if anyone was passing by. He didn’t care if anyone was anyway, but the coast was still clear.

“See, you like doing shit that isn’t safe,” he mumbled, the pad of his thumb moving to attack your clit through the cotton fabric of your damp panties.

“Oh, fuck—!” You whined, trying to wiggle away from his touch even though there was nowhere to go.

“Don’t run, nah, stay right here,” he stated, letting you writhe and wriggle under him for another minute or so before growing impatient.

“Filthy fuck, getting hard frrr—! From me calling,“ she panted, her chest heaving up and down as he practically ripped her underwear off, “From me calling you Daddy…”

“Oh hush, you’re fucking your roommate,” he huffed, pulling down the cotton fabric of his sweats just enough to free himself from his charcoal grey Calvin Klein boxers. “That’s filthy.”

He lined himself up with you, splitting you open with a rather quick thrust that caused the car to jump ever so slightly. You heard something fall in the trunk, but your mind was much too focused on the tingly feeling spreading through your nerves to care.

You felt full— like a warm and heavy plank nestled between your guts and pressed against all the right places. He wasted zero time in fucking you stupid, pools of drool dribbling down your chin as your eyes crossed and rolled to the back of your head.

One hand behind your popliteal fossa, digging into the thin skin and muscle hard enough to leave dull and red crescent moons forced your knee to your chest. His right hand came to rest on the foggy window, the scent of sex and sounds of shared moans filling the empty space between your bodies and the car walls.

“Want me to crash…my BRAND new car…fuckin’ brat,” he scolded, shifting his hand from under your leg to your ankle and resting it on his shoulder. “Say you’re sorry.”

The wet, sticky, sopping noises that you generated in the back of the car had begun to rival the sound of shifting baggage. And if the grotesque sounds of intimacy didn’t cover it, your moans definitely did.

“I’m—ooh, fuck fuck fuck fuck—!” You whined, fighting the force of a nearly two-hundred-pound man and the will of god to form a coherent sentence.

“I’m— I’m sorry! Please don’t stop, Daddy!”

“Oh shit-!” He whined, feeling you flutter and pulse around his dick, his only warning of your rapidly approaching orgasm.

You painted his once grapefruit pink tip a pearly white while hot and sticky ropes of cum invaded your womb. Maybe you should have bought condoms at the pit stop.

He panted in your ear, quiet and wobbly moans sneaking their way from his lips before he suddenly froze and abruptly pulled himself off of you, covered you with a blanket, and fixed his pants. If you weren’t so completely burned out and hazy, maybe you’d conceptualize the flashing lights behind the car.

“Good afternoon, sir…you guys okay? I’m seeing a lot of movement from this car.”

“Of course, officer! Sorry, we’re on a road trip and I was getting my girlfriend situated in the back. She’s a little tired.”

It didn’t take rocket science to see. Luigi’s sparkly grin, his lack of a shirt, the foggy windows…yeah…

“Oh. I see. You two kids have a great day…but get to a hotel next time.”

“You have a nice day, officer!”

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satorusugurugurl · 7 months ago

Text

The Single Dad Club! (Chapter Three: Gojo)

Summary: The Single Dad club consisted of Grto Suguru, Gojo Satoru and Nanami Kento! But with summer upon them, the men find themselves ladies who are willing to have them leave their self-appointed club!

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 5.2K

Warning: mentions of lost child, panic, flirting, fluff, cursing, oral sec (male receiving) smut, p in v, unprotected sex

A/N: The last and final part of the Single Dad Club Summer Series! I had fun with this mini series! Yay for Sexy dilfs!! 😈💚

Part One Part Two

“It’s official. God hates me and wants me to suffer.” Gojo sighed as he lay on the warm side of the beach. “He has doomed me to be single for all time..”

“You’re being dramatic.” Suguru scoffed, shaking his head as he turned the page in his book.

Gojo sat up, glaring daggers at his best friend, who was unbothered by the intense stare. “Oh, shall we review just how much he hates me?” Knowing there was no way to stop the bitching, Geto huffed out a sigh, placing his bookmark in place before he turned his attention to the white-haired man. “Exhibit one,” he gestured towards Nanami, who was building a Sandcastle with Yuuji and his girlfriend. “And Exhibit number two!” he stared at the beauty walking down the shoreline with Nanako and Mimiko. “Both you assholes went and got yourselves girlfriends this summer, disbanding The Single Dad club!” Suguru sighed, running a hand down his face.

“You’re still stuck up on this?” When Gojo pouted, Gero rolled his eyes. “You know it’s as simple as getting on Tinder, right?”

“All the people on there just won’t be for my body!”

“Well fuck Satoru, what do you want?”

“I want a summer romance like you and Nanamin over there!”

“Oh, I fully intend on turning this summer romance into a long-term relationship.”

The sweet, romantic tone of his best friend's voice had Gojo sticking his nose up as he gagged, sticking his tongue out. “Ya’ know what, kiss my well-toned a—”

“Gojo!!” The sound of Tsumiki screaming sent chills down his spine. He was on his feet in an instant. It was a scream that wasn’t full of fun or laughter. This was the scream all parents dreaded to hear.

“What?! What’s wrong?!”

“I can't find Megumi!!”

Those words hit him like a baseball bat to the gut. But Gojo didn’t allow the panic to take over. Instead, he pushed it down, running towards the crying Tsumiki.

“Where did you last see him?”

“I told him to wait for me while I use the restroom! I was in there for five minutes, maybe longer! But when I came out, he was gone!” The young girlfriend sobbed into Gojo’s chest, holding onto his white T-shirt as she cried even harder.

In situations like this, it was easy for someone to lose sight of what to do. Luckily for Gojo, being a firefighter allowed him to push the panic aside and process clear and concise thoughts. If he were to panic, things might go unnoticed, or he might act out irrationally. Right now, it was best for him to stay calm.

With a shallow breath, Gojo gently grabbed Tsumiki’s arms in an attempt to ground her. Feeling his hands on her arms and squeezing them gently, the young girl breathed more steadily. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Can you tell me where you saw him last?” His adopted daughter pointed him in the right direction, and with a quick shout to Suguru to watch her, Satoru was off, sending sand flying under his sandals as he ran as fast as he could.

On the other side of the beach, you crouch down to the small boy you had noticed admiring a sea turtle barricade placed on the beach. You knelt next to him, staring at the said. He turned his head, looking at you for a moment before turning his attention back to the sand.

“Pretty cool, huh?” You finally asked, toying with the whistle around your neck. “The turtles are protected this way, and when they start hatching, they’ll head straight for the water.”

The dark-haired boy hugged his knees close to his chest. “Yeah, I guess so.” You could easily tell he was withholding his excitement. As hard as he tried to play it cool, you could see the glimmer in his eyes.

“Do you like sea turtles?”

“I like all animals.”

“Yeah? What’s your favorite animal?”

The young boy narrowed his navy blue eyes as he slowly turned to glare at you. “I shouldn't be talking to you; you’re a stranger.” The blunt words and sharp tone took you off guard from a young boy his age. Was he even a kid? He had to be what, seven, maybe eight years old? “And what’s with that look on your face?” Damn, now he was even calling you out!

“Heh—I’m not a stranger, like stranger danger kind.” You gestured towards your white lifeguard jacket and red baseball cap. “I’m a lifeguard.”

“Well, shouldn’t you be watching the ocean? Making sure no one drowns.”

You laughed out loud, tilting your head back. “I already did that; I was just about to grab my bag and call it a day. But watching people in the water isn’t all we know. We help with medical emergencies, monitor the weather, and even provide water safety lessons.” The apprehensive look on the boy's face twisted into a more neutral look as you spoke. His eyes focused on your lifeguard gear, deeming you not to be some kidnapper. “But we also help get lost kids to their folks.” You ruffled the top of his hair before standing.

“I’m not lost.” He corrected you.

“Oh really?” Your eyes scanned the emptying beach. “Where are they?”

He didn’t say a word as he looked around, blinking a few times before standing. There was a look of confusion on his face as he turned in each direction, north, east, south, and west, as if he was on the search for something or someone. Your chest constricted as you could see his eyes flash with panic before he slowly looked back up at you.

“I-I don’t think my sister heard me when I told her I would be over here.”

“Okie dokie, where did you last see your sister?”

“By the bathrooms.”

You shoved your hands into your pockets, motioning towards the bathrooms with your chin. “At least we know where she is. Come on, I’ll walk you there.” much to your relief. The little guy had no reservations about following you to the bathroom. Sometimes, kids put up a fight, not believing that you were a lifeguard, and they didn’t stop crying until one of your coworkers came to help you. Thankfully, this kiddo was a bit older than the ones you usually dealt with, making it a less painful experience for both of you.

When you get to the bathrooms, you get a description of his older sister before stepping into the bathroom to see if she is there. Much dismay, there was nobody in the restroom except for yourself. His sister either ran off in search of him or returned to find their parents. Regardless, either his sister or his family would come looking for him shortly, and even though you had clocked out for the day, you decided to stay by his side until they arrived.

“She’s not in there kiddo.” You stretched your arms above your head. “We can wait a bit, but we might need to make an announcement..”

“I don’t know if they’ll be necessary. Knowing Gojo, he’ll be running around here within the next few seconds.”

“Whose Gojo?”

“MEGUMI!!”

You gasped as a flash of white flew past you. The shock had you placing your hand on your chest, feeling your heart rate spike as a man began frantically running around. He whirled around, searching everywhere, and it was fairly easy for you to put two and two together.

“Megumi?!” The man shouted, groaning as he ran his fingers through the tuffs of soft, pristine white hair. You hadn’t spoken to the man, and you could feel the anxiety radiating off him like an industrial air conditioning unit. “Megs?! Where are you?!”

He couldn't see the boy standing behind you from where he was standing. But the concern and fear in his eyes had you moving forward. “Excuse me, are you looking for—”

“Oh, thank god!” Large hands grabbed both of your arms, yanking you forward towards him. The smell of sunscreen musk became prominent as the handsome man leaned down to get in your face. “I need help finding my son! He’s about this tall! Black hair! Blue eyes!” He released one of his hands off your arms, putting it near his upper thigh. “A-And he was wearing a White T-shirt and shark swim trunks!” Beautiful cerulean eyes searched your face as if you had the answers to all of his questions, which way you did. “He’s a little too serious for a seven-year-old, but I wouldn’t have him any other way!”

You could practically hear the eyes rolling behind you as Megumi, you were assuming, groaned out loud in apparent embarrassment. “An overly serious seven-year-old? You wouldn’t happen to love animals, would he?” The man blinked and then twice before his frantic shaking came to a stop. “Because this kiddo was admiring, let’s see, turtle barricades.” You stepped to the side, motioning towards Megumi.

“MEGUMI!” Gojo yelled, dropping to his knees and grabbing his arms around Megumi and a crushing hug. His son grunted at the squeeze, averting his gaze as Gojo stroked the back of his head. “Oh my god, I was worried sick about you! Why didn’t you wait for your sister, like she told you to?!”

“I told her I was going to look at the barricades. Apparently, she wasn’t listening to me.”

You smiled, admiring the loving scene between father and son. The relief was visible in the muscles of Gojo’s back, and as hard as he tried to hide it, you could see the slight smile Megumi had tugging at the corners of his mouth. Little moments like this made you love your job even more.

You put the red duffel bag on your shoulder before turning your baseball cap around and clearing your throat to get their attention. Gojo released his bear-tight grip around his son, looking over his shoulder at you—a stunning beauty, white and red, who looked like she was by Zeus out of seafoam. Your body was perfect, your smile dazzling, and the way your eyes sparkled as you watched the scene unfolding in front of you had his heart skipping a beat.

Was it illegal to fake a heart attack in front of a certified lifeguard? Because he would do pretty much anything right now to have you perform CPR on him! But instead of raking up an ambulance bill and putting a damper on the whole day, Gojo stood up, dusting his knees off before towering over you.

“Thank you so much; I appreciate you staying with him.”

“Eh, it’s all part of the job! He's a good kid, smart too; you did a good job teaching him about stranger danger.”

“Being a first responder, I engraved it into his and his sister’s brains.”

“Oooh, a fellow first responder!” You took the opportunity to look him up and down shamelessly. “Let me guess,” Gojo smirked, placing one hand on his hip as he watched you slowly trailer your eyes over every inch of his body. He had broad, lean muscles, his legs were long and toned, and he had a pretty face. Long white lashes anyone would kill for, eyes with the same shade of Lagoon water, and a smile that had you swooning. You could have easily continued to stare at him, but you decided not to be a horndog and slowly trailed your eyes back to his face. “EMT?”

“Nope, fire rescue.”

“Ah, a firefighter, I would’ve never guessed. I would’ve needed to inspect you further.”

Gojo took his bottom lip between his teeth, shamelessly humming. “Ooh, sweetheart, I’d let you expect me anytime, any place.” He stuck his hand out in front of you. “Gojo Satoru, nice to meet you.”

You, too, his hand, shaking it. “Nice to meet you, Gojo.” Just as you gave him your name, you could hear yelling in the distance further down the beach.

Both you and Gojo turned your heads, watching as a group of people came running down the shoreline. People looked frantic for a second, but as soon as they saw the three of you standing near each other, their faces relaxed, and their running slowed to a walk. Assuming this was their group from how the children ran directly to Megumi while the adults stood back, you exhaled through your nostrils.

“Well, it looks like your families are here, so I think I should be getting home. I wouldn’t want your wife for your girlfriend waiting for you and Megumi much longer.”

Gojo snickered, glancing up at the sky with a grin before focusing his attention back on you. “There is no Mrs. Gojo. It’s just me, myself, and my two kids. You’re looking at the sole survivor of The Single Dad Club.” A choir of groans sounded from the group around you.

“Satoru, enough with that terrible club name!”

“I have to agree; it doesn’t work well when you’re the only member.”

“You guys suck!” Those pretty blue eyes found yours. “So yes I'm single.”

You bit your bottom lip, feeling a certain confidence burning in your chest. “What a coincidence, and so am I.” Gojo perked up; not only had you helped his kid, but you were a fucking hot lifeguard that was single on top of it?! This had to be one of the best days of his life.

“Uh-huh, well, I think we should change that.”

“Yeah? And just what do you have in mind to change that?”

“You, me, dinner and drinks. Consider it as a token of my appreciation for you taking such good care of my son. And I think you’re very attractive, and I would like to get to know you more.”

You could’ve done flips. You were so excited, but you had to play cool, not wanting him to know you were as eager as a seagull going after a fry. “I believe that would be sufficient.” You held your hand towards him. “I’ll just need your phone so I can give you my phone number.” Gojo was screaming in his head as he placed his cell phone in the palm of your hand, watching as your painted nails gracefully moved across the screen. “Text me, firefighter~.”

“Will do lifeguard.”

You adjusted your bag, waving goodbye to the rest of the group. And when you were out of sight and out of earshot, Gojo began violently fist-pumping the air. It was an action that had his kids cringing with embarrassment over his actions and the rest of his friend group. He couldn’t help it, though. It had taken all summer, but he finally scored a date with a woman who was just as kind as she was beautiful. Gojo couldn’t wait to get to know you more.

Two days later, when you both had a day off, Gojo took you to the best restaurant he knew. You both sat there exchanging daring stories of times at work. Where he’d been stuck on the second floor, where the fire was burning, or when you had gotten sucked into the current, trying to save someone. Both of you had an understanding of how dangerous work could be, and you both knew how precious life was. It wasn’t often you found someone you clicked with instantly like this.

Not only was Gojo remarkably hot, strong, and brave, but he was also caring and compassionate. Although he insisted, a lot of his friends and colleagues knew him as an arrogant ass. That didn’t change the fact that he cared about his kids. He spoke fondly of them. Tsumiki and Megumi had both lost their parents, and Gojo had taken them in, adopting them both and raising them as if they were his kin. That in itself was so attractive.

Knowing that he was fully capable of stepping up to the plate and wasn’t scared to do the right thing, he checked off boxes you didn’t think you had when looking for a partner. You found yourself entirely enthralled by his stories, the way he spoke articulately, and how he stared at you. It wasn't in a way that he was eye-fucking you across the table. No, there was a softness in his eyes, a look that included lust and curiosity.

And your assumptions about that look had been correct. Gojo had been right when he thought the gods themselves had made you. You look so pretty in your uniform for work. But seeing all dolled up made him think about how cute you must look on lazy days with your hair, a mess, sweatpants, and a baggy T-shirt. He found himself to know what that looks like. Because not only were you beautiful on the outside, but he could tell you were on the inside.

You were kind, compassionate, and brave. His son had been proof of that. But hearing stories of you going out during a typhoon to save some drunken idiot, he had an abundance of respect for you.

“Gojo.” Your sultry voices pulled him back into the conversation. ”If you keep staring at me like that, you’re going to burn holes through my skin.”

“Oh! Shit, sorry.”

You didn’t mind him staring; you would be lying if you said you weren’t staring at him. “Just what were you thinking about?” The softness that graced his features was not something many guys on first dates had. The majority of them wanted one thing and one thing only while you were looking for something a bit deeper.

“I was just thinking about how amazing you are.”

“Oh, I’m far from amazing.”

Satoru laughed, sipping his soda while you took a sip of wine. “Okay, have you looked at yourself? You’re a lifeguard; I’m sorry to be blunt about this. You’re very attractive.” His words had your cheeks flushing hotter than the wine, and that was because they were sincere. “You save lives, and you look hot when doing it.”

“Says the literal firefighter.”

“Okay, let me rephrase that. We both save lives, and we both look hot doing it. So I’m sorry for staring, but your beauty has enchanted me.”

You felt your cheeks burning, your eyes starting towards the table just as the waiter brought your dessert. “You’re very sweet, Satoru.” Satoru loved the sound of his name leaving your lips as he took the spoon off the plate and dug into the crème brûlée cheesecake.

“I think you’re sweet too.” He offered the first bite to you, holding the spoon in front of your mouth. “I’ve had a perfect time with you tonight. Being a single dad, I don’t get out as much as I want, and my dating life has been nonexistent. I was pretty sure I’d been cursed by the gods themselves there for a while.”

He watched as you wrapped your lips around the spoon, taking the bite off. “I know exactly exactly what you mean. Dating can be busy when you’re first responder.” You followed his lead, taking a scoop of the dessert into your spoon before offering it to him.

“Then we got lucky, huh?” He chopped down on the bite. You offered him, licking the cream off his lips. “We know how difficult it can be when you’re busy saving lives.”

“We definitely did. So, I think we should do this again.”

There was part of Gojo that didn’t want the date to end so soon. Both of you were having a great time, and the conversation was great. But he didn’t want to push his luck either. So, instead of asking if you wanted to go back to his apartment, he excitedly offered you another bite of the dessert before pushing the strawberry around with your spoon.

“Say, Satoru.”

“Yeah, Sweetheart?” You swiped some caramel off the plate with your thumb before bringing it up to your mouth, licking it off slowly. Seeing you do that had Satoru sitting up straight, his mouth suddenly dry as he did his best not to choke on the dessert. “M-mm?”

“What do you say after we’re done devouring the dessert? I take you back to my place and let you devour me?”

In all your years of living, you had never seen a man stand up and ask for the check as fast as Gojo did. It was cute but also strangely erotic in a way. He was eager to get you out of the restaurant and back to your place, and it took every ounce of your being to behave yourself until then.

Thanks to some unknown reason, you managed to keep your hands to yourself until the door to your apartment shut. As it did, you threw yourself into the firefighter, arms frantically working at the buttons of his shirt. Gojo’s eyes widened in shock at the sudden kiss, but that shock slowly melted into lust as he wrapped his arms around you, searching for the zipper to your dress. Hands moved nearly in sync as you began undressing the other.

Gojo sighed against your lips, groaning at the cool air hitting his bare chest as you unbuttoned his shirt completely. You pulled away from his mouth somehow, dragging your eyes down the dips of his abs, noticing faint burn scars that lingered here and there. That made him even more attractive, which was almost unbelievable.

“Like what you see?” The question had heat pulling between your legs. You did like what you saw. You liked it very much so.

“Mhmm~ I like it a lot.” Slowly, you crouched down, trailing kisses over his bare skin. “I want to see more.”

Your hand pressed firmly over his crotch as you pushed him back against the wall, and you dropped to your knees, unbuckling his belt. “I-Oh fuck!” A nervous yet excited laugh bubbled in Gojo’s chest as he looked down at you, watching you pepper kisses over the bulge in his boxers. “What are you doing, pretty girl?” The incredulous look you gave him made another laugh form in the back of his mouth.

“Did not make it clear enough back at the restaurant?” A white brow rose as you hooked your fingers under the waistband of his boxers. “I’m going to devour you, Satoru~”

With a fast tug, you yanked his boxers down to his thighs, freeing his thick, throbbing erection. It bobbed in the air, the tip pretty and pink, twitching as pre-cum beaded at the tip. Your mouth began to water as you stared at the beautiful cock in front of your face. Satoru groaned as he watched you gently wrap your hand around the base before taking him into your mouth with a groan.

“Oh fuuuck—” He let his head fall forward, eyes fluttering, threatening to close as you hummed around him. “Fuuck, you’re good at that.” He breathed out with a sigh as you began bobbing your head around his length.

His praise had you dripping as you took him further into your mouth, allowing the tip to slide down your throat. As you did, he jolted and cursed under his breath, and you couldn’t help but admire how reactive his body was to your touch. Every time you bobbed your head or swirled your tongue around his leaking tip, you drew more reactions from him. From him bucking his hips forward to soft whines and deep guttural groans. Every sound and action he made only drove you further.

You were on a mission to please. A mission that had your eyes water with each inch of him you took in your mouth. One that left you messily sucking this sexy man’s cock, a mixture of drool and precum running down your chin, hitting the floor. All of it was so hot, turning you on even more.

If given a chance, you could have stayed there on your knees all night long, pleasing Satoru with your mouth, but he grabbed a handful of your hair, gently pulling you off of him. There was a pop—followed by your ragged, needy breathing. Hearing that almost had Satoru reconsidering what he was doing. While your lips felt so good wrapped around his cock, Satoru wasn’t quite ready for things to end there.

“I need you.”

It wasn’t a want; it was a need. This man needed you. The raw power behind his words, the way they sent butterflies swarming in your stomach and caused your pussy to throb, was truly all he needed to say. This man did not need to beg or say please. Not when he needed you. Making him beg, while he would look so pretty when doing it, would be cruel at that point.

So you did the humane kind thing and rose to your feet before dragging him across the apartment into your bedroom, where you shoved him down on the bed. He didn’t fit or change positions. For one fact, you were far too fast, discarding your drenched panties and dress to the side before straddling him. The second thing was that he liked you taking the lead and doing what you wanted without asking him to be the more assertive.

“I need you too~” You whispered as you reached behind, gently taking his spit-slick cock. “I need you really bad.”

“Fuuuck,” Satoru groaned, biting down on your lips as you kissed him. “Then have me, sweetheart, have every part of me; I’m yours.”

Those words rang in your ears as you slowly lowered yourself onto his thick length. The feel of his stretching your tight walls had both of you groaning into each other's mouths as you made out. The kiss was deep and intimate, which was fitting, seeing that you were lowering yourself onto his length. The kiss, however, wasn’t similar to the one-night-stand kisses you had shared in the past. Those kisses were fueled by the desire to fuck and get off. While this kiss, while the lust and need were there, was also filled by a need to relish in each other. Almost like a silent promise, a mutual understanding that this would not be a one-night stand.

This was something more, something real and deeper.

Both you and Satoru could feel that as you pulled back away from his mouth, sitting up tall as your hips sat against each other flesh to flesh. The pleasure of merely being connected was so intense, so pleasurable; it made your eyes roll back as Satoru’s hands found their way to your hips, holding them as you lazily rolled them over his cock. With each roll of your body, muscles tensing as you rocked, Satoru was entranced by your body.

How you moved reminded him of the waves on the shore—powerful and beautiful, majestic and entrancing. You rolled with such ease, your mouth falling agape in pleasure, that Satoru had to fight the urge to thrust up into you. Because of this, watching you use him was so arousing.

“Mmm~ fuck baby, your cock is so thick!”

Satoru grinned as a harsh moan was fucked out of him with your seductive moves. “Mm~ fuck, yeah? Does it feel good in that tight pussy of yours?”

“Y-Yeah~! Feels good~ it feels really good!” You pressed your hands firmly against his pectoral muscles as you rocked fast, bumping his cock like he was your own personal sex toy.

“Yeah~ fuck you feel so good too.”

Knowing that he felt as good as you did had you digging your nails into his chest as you began bouncing up and down his length. Satoru hissed out a curse as his fingers dug into the fat of your hips, squeezing you as you left crescent moon indents in his skin as you rode him harder than he’d ever been ridden before. He felt drunk, head spinning as his eyes roamed over every part of you. From your face twisted with pleasure, your hips rising and falling on his length.

As he admired your beauty, you did the same to him. Watching his pretty ivory skin flush with each bounce on him. How he watched you through the frame of thick lashes. He truly was handsome. Fuck even the sounds he made were intoxicating.

There was a mutual admiration for each other, which seemed to make things all the more intense.

“Nngh!” Satoru clenched his teeth as you bounced madly on him. “Fuck~! Fuck~!”

You could feel his entire length twice inside of you, urging you to keep going. “F-Fuck your throbbing! Satoru!” He growled from underneath you, sitting up, holding a hand against the small of your back. “Hahn! Fuck!” He smirked, nipping at your bottom lip as he slowly began thrusting into you.

“Yeah~ you feel so good, you’re so wet and tight~!”

“N-nngh, yes, yes!”

“I can feel you throbbing, too~ god, you feel so good! So wet baby~ so tight.” He kissed you, stealing your breath away. “Are you gonna cum?”

“Y-Yeah!!”

Satoru grunted, his thrusts becoming messier. “Good~ cum for me, sweetheart~ I wanna cum with you.” He slammed his lips against yours as you rolled faster and harder, grinning your clit against him, chasing that sweet release until you both reached it at the same time. “C-Cumming!” Satoru grunted as he kissed you with a passionate heat.

“Me too!” You screamed as you moaned against his lips. As you came hard, soaking his pelvis with your release, he filled you with hot sticky cum.

As the aftershocks of your orgasm washed over you both, you fell forward, resting on Satoru’s chest as he placed a kiss against your forehead. “Fuuck, you‘re perfect.” Satoru trailed kisses down your temple to your lips.

“That tickles!” you laughed as he kissed you deeply. “Mhmm~”

“You don't seem to mind all that much.”

“Yeah, you're right. I don't.” He groaned, rolling you onto your sides so you were spooning. “Just like you won't mind me waking you up and making the best French Toast in the morning.”

“Ha—yeah, I have a massive sweet tooth, so I’ll probably be all over you tomorrow morning. In more ways than one.”

You turned just enough to kiss him softly, winning a grin. “That sounds like a pretty great morning to me.”

You pressed another chaste kiss against his lips. Gojo was grinning as he snuggled you tighter against him. It was a soft, sweet, intimate moment, once Satoru had longed for all summer. A romance like his friends had found, one he too wanted to last way past the summer months into autumn, winter, and spring. A romance that could last a lifetime.

That night, The Single Dad Club was officially disbanded completely.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree

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swordsandholly · 1 year ago

Text

Steel Magnolia

Part 1 - paused

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!plus size!reader

No use of y/n

Rating: Mature/MDNI

Word Count: 2.1k

Author’s Note: I just recently got back into fandom spaces and reading fanfic again and looooove the uptick in fat Y/N characters. Ofc as a big girl myself I wanted to try my hand at writing one too.

Hopefully I’ll post this on AO3 soon. Whenever I get my invite so I can make an acc.

“Oh! Darlin’, did ya see those boys next door?” Mrs. Duprey gasps as you swipe the last of her Bubble Bath OPI polish across her fingers.

“Next door?” You cock an eyebrow. “No one’s been next door since Adam and Eve.”

“I saw them on the way in!” She grins, the corners of her eyes wrinkling pleasantly. “Strappin’ young men - y’should talk t’ ‘em.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m sure I will sooner or later, ma’am.”

“You’ve been single too long.” The nosey old bat contributes. As much as you love her she truly cannot leave well enough alone.

“And I’m perfectly content as such.” You give her your warmest smile.

The trailer home across from you has remained empty for as long as you can remember. It’s well kept - sometimes you see random gardeners mowing or going in an out with tool bags - but no one lives there permanently. You’d think in a beach town it would at least belong to some snowbirds. A timeshare, maybe. It’s none of those things, though. Just a well-maintained, perfectly empty husk.

There’s a metaphor in there somewhere, probably.

Sure enough, as you walk Mrs. Duprey out of your little single wide trailer, you spot a black SUV parked out front of the neighboring double wide. One that is definitely *not* a repair man or worker’s vehicle. She coos at you to make sure to talk to them before waddling off to her own car. She really shouldn’t be driving at her age. You wonder briefly - futilly- if she’d sell you her car in exchange for rides.

You suppose she’s right - even if it is for the wrong reasons. You’re not particularly interested in flirting with the new neighbors. After all, don’t fuck where you eat is a saying for a reason, but it wouldn’t exactly be neighborly to not introduce yourself. Especially with all the people coming and going from your home for your nail tech services. The old Yankee’s catty-cornered from you still believe that you're a drug dealer. At least they only come down for a couple months of the year.

Despite your staunch decision not to flirt, you still find yourself adjusting your clothes. Maybe the sports bra as a top is a bit much…

Fuck it. If they live here now they’ll see you in worse.

You fix your lipstick and throw on your platform sandals. The ones that clip-clop as you walk. Maybe it will help announce your presence.

The screen door wraps quietly as you knock. You take two steps back on the front, wooden porch so as not to come off too aggressively. As the seconds tick by you debate on knocking again. Maybe they’re out. Or busy. They did just move in today, most likely. Maybe you should-

The door creaks slightly as it opens. A very, painfully handsome man pushes the screen door until it clicks in place. “Afternoon, lassie.”

You blink stupidly as he crosses his strong arms and leans on the doorframe. His eyes are a striking shade of blue - somehow both sharp and soft. His dark hair is shaped into a slightly grown-out, un-styled mohawk. It fits him oddly enough.

“I, uh,” you take a deep breath. Christ you need to get laid if just *looking* at a hot guy has you this off kilter. “I live across the way. Just wanted t’ say welcome t’ tha neighborhood.”

That lopsided smile on his face grows into a grin. You don’t miss the way his eyes catch on your chest. “Aye? Nice tae meet ye. Names John MacTavish. M’friends call me Johnny.”

He gives your hand an extra little squeeze after shaking it. That accent might as well have you on the floor. You continue to blink dumbly, watching the at the scar on his chin stretches as he speaks.

Christ almighty, you’re pathetic.

“Nice to meet’ya.” You give him a warm smile, tilting your head to the side slightly. “Ya’ll here for vacation? We don’t get many Europeans ‘round here.”

He chuckles. It’s low and rumbling and would probably feel wonderful with your ear pressed to his chest. “Little bit o’ business, little bit o’ pleasure. This an’ tha’.”

“Hello, there.” Another man pops up from behind Johnny suddenly. Fucking hell, he’s gorgeous too. Older, for sure, with a uniquely cut beard that would probably look rather silly on anyone less handsome. At it stands, he manages to make it appear dignified.

“Ah, jus’ about tae call fer ye, Cap. This is our neighbor.” Johnny gestures toward you.

“John Price.” The man steps forward to shake your hand. It’s firm and professional and thank god your grandad made you practice a good handshake as a kid or you’d be painfully embarrassed.

“Are all UK men named John or is this just some sorta cult?” You blurt, unable to stop yourself from snickering at them.

Older John chuckles at you fondly, his facial hair giving him a pleasant U-shaped smile. “Be easier to remember that way, wouldn’t it? No, we’re with two others. Kyle and Simon. They’re out at the moment.”

“Kyle and Simon.” You repeat, nodding. Johnny, John, Kyle, Simon. “Are y’all in town long?”

“Indefinitely.” Is all Price gives you. It’s a tone that even someone as dense as you can recognize as ‘don’t ask more.’

You clap your hands together and smile a little wider, ready to make your exit. “Well, I’m not here t’be a bother, just wanted t’ welcome ya and, uh, let y’know that I have a lot of people over throughout the day - I’m a nail tech. They shouldn’t bother ya but y’know.”

“Ye can come bother us anytime, bonnie.” The Scot hits you with that grin again and your face suddenly feels far too hot.

A loud, whining screech sounds off from down the road. You check your watch. Holy shit, three-thirty already. You begin to back off the porch. “Ah, nice t’ meet ya again! See ya ’round!”

As you jog down the little dirt road of the trailer park another black car passes you. It’s smaller, a sedan. You make very brief eye contact with a blonde wearing a surgical mask and another man with the sharpest golden eyes you’ve ever seen - even through the tint of the window.

*Kyle and Simon,* you think.

You make a mental note to greet them at some point and continue down the street. The school bus slowly stops at the entrance and you take up your spot in the small crowd of parents. IT’s a shabby old bus - chipping paint and break pads that sounds like they’re about ready to snap. It’s all they’re willing to send out to your little section of the city, though.

Shelby meanders over in your direction, her usual Camel Crush lit up in one hand and the other teasing her already well-lifted hair. “Afternoon. Saw there was some new folks across from ya.”

“Hm?” You keep your eyes on the bus. “Ah, yeah. Just vacationers, I think.”

“Lookers, though.” She chuckles.

“They’re from the UK.” You offer.

“No shit!” Shelby stamps out her cigarette as the bus doors open. “Accent and all?”

“Yep.” You grin.

Shelby tsks and fiddles with her hair again. “I best go over an’ make myself known, then.”

“There’s an older fella with a neat beard. Think you’d like ‘em.” You snicker.

She hums. “I’ll bring a pie.”

The children practically burst out of the bus doors, as always. Ready to be home and shuck off their backpacks to their respective adult. Shelby’s son almost knocks her over, offering a little “Good afternoon, ma’am!” to you before heading off with his mother.

You nod to him, shoving a hand in your pocket as you wait for yours. She’s always the last. Always caught up in a book or something and doesn’t realize it’s time to get off of the bus. Sure enough, the driver has to call back to her before the little girl comes dashing out. She jumps off of the bus steps, despite being told time and time again not to, and kicks a rock on her way toward you.

You bow low for her. “Welcome home, Lady Sophie.”

She giggles, dark curls bouncing as she skips over. “Ni-ni!”

You take her bag from her. The thing really does dwarf the poor six year old. Her hand slips into yours easily. Soft and round and somehow always so much warmer than yours.

“My nail color chipped!” She announces, holding up her ring finger on the opposite hand.

“Oh! Now we can’t have that. I’ll fix it tonight.” You smile, waving at old Mr.Chester as the two of you pass.

“Well now!” He calls. “How blessed am I to see two such lovely ladies!”

You both giggle, continuing on your way. He’s a good landlord - spotted you more than a few times when Sophie was a baby and you couldn’t work consistently. Honestly, as you look around, the little community that he’s managed to build in this shitty corner of the world should be praised. Housing just enough snowbirds to cover his property costs while keeping rent low for the full time locals. Maybe you could convince Natalie at the paper to run a little story on it or something.

As you pull up to your own home, the blonde man is outside leaning on the front of their double wide. Seeing him standing at full height makes your blood run cold. The man is built like a damn barn - tall and wide. Beyond solid. *Brick shithouse*. It’s a bit weird that he’s covered in clothing head to toe but whatever. Weirder things have happened before. The mask still covers his face, you wonder if he had taken it off before you came up or just flipped it up to smoke.

“Sophie, head on in. I’ll catch up.” You push her toward the door. She scampers in, the screen door slamming behind her as you march up to the brick shithouse of a man in front of you.

“Which are ya? Kyle or Simon?” You smile, holding out your hand to shake.

Dark eyes rake over you, stopping briefly on your hand, before moving back to meet yours. He stomps out the half smoked cigarette. “Simon.”

You let your hand drop. Bit rude, this one. “Nice t meetcha.”

The other man pops his head out of the trailer. Kyle, you assume. “Oh. Hello.”

“Hi.” You smile as warmly as you can, giving your name. “I’m assumin’ yer Kyle.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “I’m guessing you’re the neighbor Price mentioned.”

You nod, about to speak again but Simon shoves past you, marching his way up the steps. “Let’s go.” He grunts, pushing the other man back into the trailer despite his protests.

You wrinkle your nose at him. What an asshole.

“Who’s tha’?” Sophie asks over the back of the old, worn couch as you let the trailer door slam behind you.

“New neighbors.” You say simply, glancing out the window. “Don’t go over there without me, yeah?”

“Okay!” She agrees, sitting back on the couch and bouncing, beginning her usual post school chant. “Bluey! Bluey! Bluey!”

You drop her backpack down beside the small coffee table. “After yer homework.”

“Nooo!” She pouts.

“Then no Bluey.”

Sophie pouts harder but crawls down in front of the coffee table and pulls out her little work sheets. At least the school doesn’t over run them too terribly with homework toward the end of the year. You glance at the calendar. Wednesday, May 22nd. Damn, she really only has about a week left. Though, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t looking forward to this summer break with her. She’s old enough now that you can take her places like the arcade without having to wait on her so much. You’ll actually be able to play some of the two-player games.

Plus, this year, you actually have a little more pocket change to make it fun.

You turn to look out the window once more at the new neighbors. Their curtains remain closed, cars neatly parked out front. The door opens slowly, the hot Scot and rude blonde wander to the Sedan. Simon’s shoulders shake at something Johnny said - you think he’s laughing but its hard to tell with that mask. Johnny’s head turns, blue eyes meeting yours through the shitty glass windows of your trailer. You squeak and duck to sit next to Sophie, praying that he didn’t catch you staring.

#simon x reader #fanfiction #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #fanfic #call of duty #plus size reader #fat reader #ghost cod #cod x reader #cod mw2 #holly writes

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somepsychopomp · 3 months ago

Text

A Fair Contest (Ch. 2)

Summary-

A golden apple was tossed into a gathering of gods. Upon it, the inscription read:

To the most amorous king.

And two hands reached for it at once.

Unless the world was to be torn asunder by the warring sky and sea, Zeus and Poseidon would have to settle their dispute by having a mortal choose who was, beyond any doubt, the superior lover.

And they set their eyes upon Odysseus of Ithaca.

+++

A few notes: this is a continuation of chapter 1 of my AU (which you can read here)

Also, this isn't the complete second chapter, just a taste of what's to come. That being said, this is a rough draft so anything could be subject to change.

Word Count: approx. 3k

As a final note, if you really like this fic, let me know! The support I got for Part 1 was great and really encouraging :)

+++

Since Odysseus was the most eager of anyone to see the palace complete, he was also one of the hardest workers. He rose at dawn and refused to rest even as the sun set on most days, using torches and lamps to give him light as he carved out furniture or laid out the stone tiles. He wanted as much of his new house to be built by his own hand as possible, to show Penelope just how much he adored her.

Sadly, this meant he was sometimes met with resistance from those closest to him.

“No, no,” Eurylochus said, blocking the entrance to the soon-to-be kitchens with his large frame, a smile on his face, “You’re not going anywhere near the construction today!”

Odysseus scoffed at his old friend, “Oh, is that so? And who are you to defy me?”

He tried to squeeze past, only to be met by Polites with his hands covered in the dust that came off the marble tiles.

“We’ll see to it that everything stays on schedule!” Polites said. He was no match for Odysseus, but together, his two closest friends kept him from laying the stonework himself.

“You need your rest.” Polites said, “You’d let any other man take a break, why not yourself?”

“Because I’m the king!”

Eurylochus’ strong arms wrapped around his waist and physically turned Odysseus around.

“Let go of me!” Odysseus said, feigning outrage even as he could feel Eurylochus laughing at him.

“Go, my king. Take a walk, go back to sleep. Do whatever you want. But you’re not coming back to work until you’ve had a well-earned rest!”

To think, the king of Ithaca was usurped by his closest friends!

Of course, they wouldn’t let him slink off to some other part of the palace to assist with the construction. While Eurylochus assumedly instructed the men, Polites was on Odysseus’ heels like a dog, poking and prodding at him every time he stopped to consider picking up a hammer or bucket.

“Alright!” Odysseus said at last, no longer even attempting to appear irritated. He threw his hands into the air in defeat. “It’s a nice day out, I think I’ll go for a swim.”

“Excellent choice!” Poltes said, a warm smile upon his face as if he didn’t just spend the last ten minutes physically harassing his dearest friend and king. Odysseus shot him a knowing look before heading off.

Ithaca was far from the largest island in the sea, or the most illustrious, and most of its shores consisted of rocky ground unsuitable for leisure. But he did know of a few beaches sporting white sand. There was even a little strip of soft sand not far from the palace. Odysseus intended for a stone pathway to be laid down, but he had no difficulty picking his way through the tall grass from the palace’s resting place to the sea below it.

He expected to see a few others enjoying the early summer weather, perhaps some children playing in the surf, but found no one else. It was honestly a relief as Odysseus left his sandals behind and savored the way the warm sand felt under his feet. On the way down, he had half a mind to wait a little while before sneaking back into the palace, but it was so lovely out that Odysseus was tempted to really take a break.

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and yet the sun wasn’t unbearably hot. The sand under his feet didn’t burn and the waves weren’t the usual rough, tempestuous kind that battered Ithaca’s shores. These lapped softly at the shore, almost in tune with the songbirds as Odysseus decided to go for a stroll. The sea was truly splendid today, glittering as if it were made of sapphires and capped with silver foam.

Odysseus followed the beach, a little puzzled as a steep hill rose to his left, creating a bend in the path. He didn’t remember the beach here being curved, he thought it went on in a straight line. Nevertheless, it had been a while since his last visit the previous year. He was searching for the perfect location for his new palace before the construction began and thought a tidy strip of beach would be a nice addition to the grounds.

He followed the beach, stunned to come around the bend and find a beautiful cove on the other side. High cliffs concealed it from the rest of the island, with moss and draping ivy growing out of the stone. The cliffs formed a semi-circle and the sand followed suit, creating a crescent that the water fed into. A few rocky outcroppings formed miniature islands out in the water, which glimmered like turquoise in the sunlight.

How could he have missed this?

He was certain he walked the length of the beach and never once found anything as remarkable as this. The cove wasn’t very large, certainly no more than a few hundred feet wide, but its size added to its charm. It felt so serene here, so private. Odysseus could easily imagine guiding Penelope here for a picnic in the summer. He even went as far as imagining a few little ones jumping into the water.

Smiling to himself, Odysseus shed his clothes and dipped his feet into the water before wading farther out. Soon, he was swimming in the bright, cool waters of the little cove, ducking his head beneath the surf to avoid the incoming waves.

Once he was past the flurry of white-tipped waves that fell upon the shore, he could see one of the little islands directly in front of him. Odysseus wondered if he could make it there in just one breath, so he sucked in as much air as possible before diving once more.

Most people, especially those from the mainland, didn’t know how to swim. They thought, should someone fall into the ocean, that it was better to drown swiftly than to prolong the process by trying to stay afloat. Odysseus knew better. His father taught him to swim and Odysseus had been knocked off more than one boat over the course of his life. Mostly they were all accidents incurred while sailing between the stone pillars around Ithaca’s coast as a test of courage.

When he surfaced again, he could touch the wet stone. Odysseus even would’ve climbed on top just for the pleasure of jumping into the crystalline waters.

But he could only gawk with a sharp, painful sense of dread at the man seated upon the stone. A man that Odysseus feared was no mortal at all.

The stranger’s dense mane of pure white hair flowed lightly in the breeze, though his was not the face of an old man. No, whoever this was, he was beautiful beyond words. He wore no clothing whatsoever, proud to reveal his vast expanse of tan skin that seemed to glow in the sunlight. Much like his hair, his beard was full and well-kept despite its shocking lack of color.

His broad chest, twice as wide as Odysseus’ own, spoke of his strength, as did his equally impressive arms and thighs. Though interestingly enough, while he had a warrior’s build, he bore not even a single scar. And he did not sit facing Odysseus, but rather with his body at an angle that made the curve of his chest and biceps all the more enticing.

But his eyes. They sparkled like the purest of gold and put the stars to shame with their brilliance.

The man with all his entrancing features smiled at Odysseus as he held out a hand.

“Why, isn’t it a lovely day? Come, little king. Sit with me and enjoy the splendid sight of such a flawless sky.”

Odysseus pulled away from the man, wading in the water with half a mind to swim as hard as he could for land.

“Who…” he began, fighting to calm his nerves, “Who might you be, if I may ask?”

Odysseus already had his suspicions. Their fulsome, wavy tresses, broad shoulders, and the square cut of their jaws were the exact same.

Athena’s father continued to smile upon him, chuckling softly.

“How could I possibly introduce myself like this? Come, and partake in some company.”

Odysseus suddenly found it very hard to catch his breath. He wasn’t sure if it was his growing unease or something else, but he feared the water might pull him under at any moment.

As he bobbed in the surf, Odysseus startled at the sensation of something solid forming under his feet. He looked down, but could see no sand bar or stone beneath him, just the ocean.

“Why leave the water so soon?” a new voice asked. Odysseus stiffed and suppressed his instinct to lash out as an arm wrapped itself around his chest. The voice spoke into his ear, “The ocean is perfect today, isn’t it?”

The arm coaxed him closer until his back was flush against a warm chest. While Zeus’ voice was deep with the rolling resonance that came with thunder, this new voice was a little rougher and reminded Odysseus of the high tide crashing upon a rocky shore.

Odysseus risked a glance at the newcomer, any potential words to save himself dying in his throat.

Never in his life had he ever seen eyes so deeply, beautifully blue before. The azure gaze leveled upon him couldn’t have been compared to sapphires, lapis, or turquoise. And these eyes, too, seemed to glow. Only the most splendid ocean waters, sun-warmed and shallow and dancing between shades of blue and green, could possibly compare.

Unlike Zeus, this stranger bore a slightly fairer complexion and black hair that shined like obsidian. His hair didn’t billow the way Zeus’ did; rather, it flowed through the air as if it weighed nothing, shifting from black to a cerulean blue at the ends so gradually that it was impossible to say where the color even began to change.

He was as handsome as Zeus, though different. His frame was thinner; still very much an athlete’s build, but more akin to an agile swimmer than the sheer bulk that Zeus possessed.

“Brother,” Zeus said, his voice losing that welcoming tone to become colder, harder.

Odysseus swallowed, his throat going dry as he realized he was being cradled like a lover by the god of the seas.

Poseidon shot Zeus an unimpressed look. “What? Am I doing something wrong?”

Thunder clapped across the skies despite the distinct lack of clouds. Odysseus shivered, his father having drilled it into his head as a child that he should never try to swim during a thunderstorm.

Zeus sneered, seeming to drop all pretenses as he rose to his feet. Odysseus couldn’t help the way his eyes traced the thick line of pure white hair that decorated the god’s abdomen, trailing down to…

Odysseus forced himself to shut his eyes, making every effort to avoid any feeling even remotely like lust.

He wondered to himself, Why? Why me?

What could he have possibly done to deserve a fate like this? To perish before he could even be wed?

What would Penelope think of him?

An impossibly large hand caressed his cheek. Odysseus’ eyes flew open.

The King of the Gods laid upon a bed of wispy clouds in front of him, seeming to float on a bed of fog on the water’s surface. He propped himself on his other elbow, showing off the curve and vast expanse of his chest. Zeus was so large that even flat on his stomach, he had to look down to meet Odysseus’ eye.

“So, little king, if you had to pick between the sea and sky, which would you say could more easily capture your admiration?”

“Oh, please!” Poseidon said, his own pretenses dropped as irritation colored his voice, “What could your sky do that’s more splendid than this?”

Something rose from the water right next to him, glowing like the eyes of a god, some tendril with the deep blue shade of the open ocean. It was a cold and stark contrast to the shallows they were in. Odysseus couldn’t understand what it was until it took shape, forming a hand terminating in clawed digits.

Poseidon’s other arm, he thought. It was made of the very water that composed his domain.

Poseidon flicked his wrist and a massive wave swelled, threatening to crash right into them. Odysseus felt his body tense, taking a deep breath on instinct.

Before his very eyes, Poseidon willed the wave to flow over their heads and encase them in a bubble of air. Odysseus gasped.

Right over his head, close enough to touch, the dome of water doused him in blue light. The closest thing Odysseus had ever seen to something so lovely was the warm, dappled sunlight filtering through the forest canopy. The way the water pulsed and rippled, he thought he could have easily spent all day just watching it flow.

Zeus muttered something softly. Before Odysseus could wonder if it was meant to be a remark addressed to him, a dark shape appeared over their bubble. At first, Odysseus thought it was a large seabird.

A circle opened up in the dome and a face appeared, youthful and hale, wearing a winged helm.

“My, my! I don’t know if anyone’s ever beaten me to my destination before.”

“I was wondering what was taking you so long,” Zeus said, sitting up.

Odysseus heard a grumbling sound come from Poseidon as the dome collapsed into seafoam and was carried away on the wind. Without it, he got a better look at the newcomer.

He wore a short chiton embroidered with green and gold and carried a satchel at his side, resembling a young man Odysseus’ age or even younger. It would’ve been entirely possible to mistake him for human, seeing as he wasn’t reaching the towering size of his father or uncle, but his winged sandals warned of a far greater power hidden behind his mischievous smile.

Odysseus wished he could sink into the water. He wished he never left his palace.

Hermes turned his sparkling gaze upon him and knelt right on the surface of the water to tap Odysseus’ nose with his finger. He asked, “Forgive me! You are Odysseus of Ithaca, yes?”

Hearing his name sent a small jolt down his spine. Odysseus cleared his throat, “I am. But-”

He wanted to know what was going on, why three Olympians were suddenly assailing him, even posing as if to seduce him.

“Perfect!” Hermes said, “I have a delivery for you. A gift, of sorts.”

He rummaged through his satchel while Zeus crossed his arms in an impatient gesture. He glanced at Poseidon, still behind Odysseus, and pointed his finger. Almost faster than Odysseus’ eyes could see, a bolt of white lightning as thin as a thread raced through the air.

He felt no pain himself, but heard Poseidon hiss softly as he pulled his arm away, freeing Odysseus from his hold.

“Ah!” Hermes said, either oblivious to the palpable tension in the air or just uncaring, “Here we are. And what an honor, to be the messenger to bestow a gold apple upon the king of Ithaca!”

Pardon me? Odysseus wanted to ask.

But Hermes produced what was unmistakably an apple from his bag. It must’ve been made from melted gold and polished by divine hands, for it was so perfectly shaped with no blemish from the smelting process in sight. It even came with a golden stem and a delicate golden leaf still attached. It shined so brightly in the light, Odysseus could even see his reflection in the curved surface.

There was also a short ribbon tied to the stem. Hermes offered it in both hands, smiling without a care as he waited for Odysseus to take it.

“A golden apple?” Odysseus asked, thinking fast, “Why, I couldn’t possibly accept a gift like this! Especially after having done no feat worthy of so much… attention.”

He looked away, doing his best to appear as bashful as possible. Whatever the gods were trying to do, whatever game they were playing, he wanted no part in it. He hoped his show of humility would hearten the gods and gain their favor, allowing him to escape the two deities that were well known for their appetites.

A hand grabbed his face. Hermes continued to smile like an old friend as he forced Odysseus to make eye contact. Against his will, Odysseus’ hands lifted to accept the apple, which felt warm in his hands.

“Not to worry, dear child,” Hermes said, “The apple isn’t quite for you, exactly. Instead, you’ll be its keeper for the time being.”

Hermes winked as his wings fluttered. He added, “Read the inscription. And, of course, good luck!”

And then he was off, flying on the winds so quickly that he was beyond the horizon in seconds.

Odysseus had the fleeting thought that Hermes was either so busy that he could not linger, or that he didn’t want to linger.

#epic the musical #epic odysseus #odysseus #odysseus x poseidon #odysseus x zeus #epic hermes #epic polites #epic eurylochus #For the Fairest AU #thank you neal illustrator for the character designs

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pinkygirlymeg · 7 months ago

Text

My opinions on 2.2 - As a Brazilian SPOILER WARNING

First off I'ma kick it saying yes, I am disappointed at Bluepoch for not adding diverse and PoC characters, however, this is a very much positive light on 2.2 because well, I enjoyed the update, I'm not here to defend Bluepoch but to appreciate the research and interesting things I think they added to their game about my people and culture.

I also think it's relevant to tell a bit about me, I'm a Brazilian woman natural from Rio de Janeiro, who early in life moved to a rural area in Goiás and later moved to the capital city of Brasília. I visited São Paulo, the city where 2.2 takes place quite a few times since parts of my family live there to this day, however the longer I've been there was 6 months, my visits to São Paulo also consisted mostly of living my the small towns around the big cities and living mostly in rural areas. (I've visited the big city but only to buy things that we didn't have mostly)

Starting off with some of the things I enjoyed the most: Music

So far there has been 3 songs of which I've listened

Starting with the one in the announcement of the special program; https://youtu.be/JsPw7aaB3WQ?si=aGYVp_yvvf1M5m5A

I do like the song, but this one is where they got the Brazil vibes a bit far off? They were going probably to the style of Bossa Nova, a Brazilian musical genre (noticable example are Garota de Ipanema) but I think in this one they went to much on a vibe that matches more french style music? Or at least reminds me of that (I'm sorry if I'm getting it wrong french people!!! Do let me know if I did).

The second one is the Livestream music! You can listen to it while they announce characters and garments;

I think the song is also not the best but definitely catches more of a Brazilian vibe, the style of music seems to be more centered around another genre commonly from the north east region of Brazil! (Noticable example is Figa de Guiné) Where they use a lot of triangles and little bit of the guitar, they're also going for a more beach style music to match the garments me thinks.

And now the third one and my favorite as off publication of this post. The "Trade Winds Garden" theme;

https://youtu.be/qCz036VZYXc?si=Gsbyl4JZzdPUpPqh

Once again they're going for a Bossa Nova vibe but this time, they nailed it perfectly. The strings and the chocalhos (sorry couldn't find a translation to that) work perfectly to create a representation in form of music! The style of the background of the new suitcase also fits the time period of Brazil's early 1900s or late 1800s that I think they're going for, the best example of a closely related song to this is also one of my favs "Águas de Março" is a music of the same genre who I think that this one might be based off.

Ok now with the characters and I'll start with the character I'm most familiar with the vibes!

Lopera the 6 star from the second part of the 2.2 version

Although we don't have much info on the story yet, she seems to be based of the "caipira" culture, I'll use the term Rural culture because "caipira" was a term used in a pejorative demeanor towards me and my family before.

Rural culture is a lot about family and as we know, Lopera ran away from her's, this is fairly common in these circles because living in a rural area while being young and full of dreams can be quite trapping! As for her design. I absolutely love it! From the hat to the sandal she embodies the spirit of a rural girl, the hat is ofc my favorite part, it's usually optional and men are more likely to not use hats as woman are. Being a Rural girl who easily burned in the sun I had to use long sleeves, long dresses and a really big straw hat, although the sandals are the norm when walking at home, usually we would use boots in the farm. In any case, I love her design and her clothes. In the i2 she seems to be more leaning towards a city girl, wearing the shorts and boots like she's ready for anything they throw at her. I personally like the i0 outfit more than the i2 for the many reasons I stated before and for the projection I did in her when I saw her.

Now for our singing best Anjo Nala!

I also loved her vibes! I saw a lot of people saying she's purple scary woman and I agree a bit with that but I really like this trope so I'm eating it! She's one of the characters that I also think I would enjoy way more if she has more melanin but for lore reasons I think she was never even a possibility for that.

First addressing the whole Anjo Nala is Kimberly, I disagree and don't think they are the same person. My evidence is that Kimberly has an identical twin who has been recently murdered! In the newspaper we can see that a ruthless murderer's life has been put to an end. I believe Anjo Nala is that twin who got murdered, aside from the visual differences both have, they also behave completely different at least from what we can see on the PV. Anjo Nala also speaks portuguese in one of her voice lines, knowing Kimberly she would've probably already said things in Portuguese had she known the language at this point. There's also some visual differences to the two, like anjo Nala's tail and horns being different than Kimberly's.

Now putting that to the side. Anjo Nala seems to be based of a more high class songstress. The beautiful girl who sings in the boats that pass by the river. Although that is a more romantic view of our culture it's still within Brazilian literature to have that type of character. The seducing demons from the rivers are also very much part of our culture as you can see from the "Boto Cor de Rosa" a character from Brazilian mythos and folklore.

The i0 dress looks simply so cute, matching the style and era of the outfits worn by the ladies here in the big cities of Brazil, as for her i2 it seems to be more of a stage outfit, I love it too, but personally, like Lopera I like her i0 more. Although I love the art and the background of her i2 and the references to the festivals of new year here and the carnival with the lights blowing in the sky voice line and the people laughing and dancing! She's a very cute character overhaul!

Mr. Duncan... Another character whom I think would look very good with more melanin, mr.duncan embodies a very common guy in Brazilian families, the "Tio do Pavê" or that cute and funny old uncle who cracks dad jokes whenever you meet with them, he seems like a passionate and generally nice guy and OMG I love seeing older man being added to the game! It really brings variety and the possibility of old men yaoi (looking at u Shamane), I really enjoy his character for how much I can see of him in my own family and it's very fun to think of all the cute interactions he could pull off! Design wise, he feels a little bit more like a tourist, although I've seen my dad wear similar outfits before when going to the beach or simply enjoying an outdoors barbecue. I like both of his i0 and i2 basically equally! I think he looks overhaul very nice

I won't make a comment about our skeleton hand just yet, White Rum seems like the most mysterious one so far! But I will make a post about them if I happen to have some new matured thoughts of if they get more info about them

Lastly for the garments, I LOVED the garments for this version, making the Brazil patch a beach vibes update is expected but they surprised me a lot! The outfits do look really like the things any Brazilian would wear to go to the beach, my favorites being Vila's and Yenisei's garment. Specifically talking about Yenisei, it might be me going on crack mode but I think her design is based off the Victoria Regia story of Brazilian folklore and I think it works perfectly with Yenisei's connection to rivers!

Marcus looks like the cute and sweet girl at the beach but girl that sunburn marks will be weird looking with all that fishnets /silly

Vila looks gorgeous and 37 is not beating the most beautiful character of the game allegations, I also think her garment has something to do with 37 accepting the malleability of truth and how it bends and changes like a river, truth changes in every different perspective!

Shamane looks gorgeous and I look forward to all the yaoi potential he got hwhshssh /silly and seriously I also love the representation of our fauna in Shamane's garment.

Few that was quite a lot I think I'm done for this post at least! I can and will yap more about this version once things come out and I'm yet to make a post about the PV, I did see it and I have some thoughts that I still need to mature! If you have any questions, suggestions or corrections they're all welcome! I just enjoy discussing things about my culture and country and how people from the outside world perceive us!

#reverse 1999 #reverse 1999 2.2 #brazil #Lopera #Anjo Nala #megramble

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itsgodepi · 3 months ago

Text

If I lose my mind | Ch. 12

Series summary: When you're buried under a mountain of problems and can’t seem to catch a break, it might feel like you need a complete reset. But did it really have to come with a one-way ticket to a new dimension? Surely, a couple problem-solving courses would’ve done the trick. Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports? Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x reader Chapter: Previous | Next Word Count: 5,4k Also on AO3

The sun bears down with an almost tangible weight, each ray a fiery tendril pressing against your skin. What began as a blissful oasis—a magnificent sunbed that cradled you in its warm embrace after your swim in the icy water, rocking you to the rhythm of the lapping waves—has betrayed you. The once-soft fabric and plush cushions have gradually transformed into a stifling grill beneath your back. Sweat beads at your temples, and the tingling heat along your shoulders hints at a sunburn brewing just beneath the surface

With a sigh, you sit up, the teak deck creaking softly beneath you. The Mediterranean stretches endlessly in every direction, a tranquil expanse of sapphire shimmering under the sun’s golden touch. You slip into your sandals, the straps warm against your skin, and head toward the shaded back deck. If you're honest, when Carlos first mentioned his latest "shiny acquisition," you’d pictured a sleek little boat, perfect for a casual day on the water. Nothing could have prepared you for the sprawling luxury of the yacht anchored at the port outside his beach house this morning.

Just another reminder that you and Carlos aren't —weren't?— exactly in the same tax bracket.

The shaded area greets you with a rush of cooler air and the sight of Carlos lounging on a plush sofa, still in his swim trunks. His tanned skin glistens with the remnants of saltwater from your earlier swim, his eyes glued to his phone, a half-played chess game abandoned beside him.

You shake your head, smirking. He and Charles had been bickering all morning over chess strategies like two old men in a park. They’d finally decided to settle it with one last match, and you’d used the chance to escape and catch some sun. Clearly, they’d taken their sweet time.

Carlos notices your footsteps before you even reach him. His face lights up with that familiar grin, and as you approach, he puts his phone down and extends a hand toward you. His fingers slip around yours effortlessly, his thumb grazing your knuckles in a warm, unhurried motion. It’s oddly comforting, a habit of his that’s grown on you.

“Did you lose?” you ask, arching a brow at the abandoned game.

“Never,” he replies, the arrogance in his tone undercut by the grin tugging at his lips.

“Where’s Charles?”

“Talking on the phone. His mummy called,” Carlos quips, his tone teasing.

You roll your eyes, leaning in to flick his forehead with your intertwined hands. “Don’t act like you weren’t calling your mum this morning all like, ‘Mami, que nos vamos con el barco, (Mummy, we’re taking the boat)’” you mimic, your voice climbing to a falsetto.

Carlos laughs, the sound rich and unrestrained, though he tries to protest, “I don’t talk like that!”

“Que sí, mamá, que tenemos cuidado (Yes mom, we’ll be careful)” you continue, doubling down on your impersonation, complete with dramatic hand gestures. “Ya me he puesto crema, ¡no traigas más mamá! (I’ve alredy put oon sunscreen, don’t bring more!)”

His jaw drops at your performance, mock outrage lighting up his expression. “Stop making fun of me!” he exclaims, though his laughter betrays him. His free hand darts out to tickle your side, a sudden and ruthless retaliation.

“Hey, stop it!” you yelp, struggling to squirm away, but Carlos is far stronger. His previous grip on your hand prevents any real escape, and with his other hand, he mercilessly tickles you until your resistance falters. You trip in your attempt to escape, tumbling onto him.

“¡Que me tiras! (You’re going to make me fall!)” you gasp, half-laughing, half-protesting as you land awkwardly against him.

“That’s the plan,” he says smugly, locking his arms around you in a triumphant hug

“Carlos, I’m all sticky with suncream and sweating!”

“I don’t care!” he replies, his voice sing-song as he pulls you closer.

Despite yourself, you can’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation deflating your protests. The driver’s hold on you is inescapable, his strength far outmatching yours. His next words come as a triumphant whisper against your ear “Por lo menos he conseguido oírte hablar en español (At least I got you to talk in Spanish)”

“Huh?” You pull back slightly, blinking at him. He has a point —you don’t think you’ve ever had a proper conversation with him in Spanish. It’s not a conscious decision, you are always surrounded by non-Spanish speakers, and when he does approach you alone, he usually defaults to English.

It’s oddly endearing how pleased he seems with himself though.

“No tienes que practicar más tu inglés (You don’t have to practise your English no more),” he adds with a grin. “¡Ya sabes más que yo! (Already know more than I do!)”

“Sure, sure,” you reply, skeptical. You don’t really know what he is talking about, when did you ask him to practice your English?

“È meglio in italiano?” he switches languages, his grin widening.

“What did you say?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

“C’mon, Charles told me you wanted to practice your Italian before Monza. You can practice with me too.”

Oh, Charles did mention something like that one of the first times you met him, even talked to you in Italian a couple times. You could never really follow the conversations, only understanding half of what he said because of your Spanish, so he didn’t push any further.

“I don’t know Italian,” you deflect, shaking your head.

“Two years in the Ferrari academy, and you didn’t pick up anything?” Carlos teases, his disbelief evident in his tone. His grin is wide, mischievous, and altogether too charming. You try to shrug it off, but his raised eyebrow signals he’s not letting you off the hook “That’s where you met Charles, right?”

You blink. New information. You really should speak Spanish with him more often if this is the kind of intel you’ll get.

“I guess,” you say nonchalantly, feigning indifference. Inside, though, you’re already planning to search about it the moment you get back.

Carlos narrows his eyes, suspicious of your evasiveness. “I guess?” His voice rises in mock exasperation, and then, before you can brace yourself, his hands attack your sides again in a relentless tickling assault.

“Okay, okay, stop!” you gasp, laughter bubbling uncontrollably from your chest as you twist and squirm, your hands blindly grappling for his wrists. His grip falters just enough for you to catch one hand, then the other, but the struggle only lands you in an even more precarious position: half-seated on top of him. “Fine! Yes, I knew him from there, before he was in Sauber. Happy now?”

Guess playing those guess the driver based on their teams challenges from tiktok had to come in handy at some point. You got addicted at those.

Carlos leans back slightly, utterly unfazed, not putting resistance against your hold. “See? That wasn’t so hard,” he teases, his voice as warm and smooth as the sunlit waves lapping against the boat, cradling you from side to side.

One of his hands settles casually on your hip when you let go, the other remaining loosely trapped in your grip.

“Whatever,” you mutter, but your tone lacks conviction. You let out a soft huff of air, trying and failing to suppress the smallest of smiles when he throws you a wink, boyish and entirely too charming.

You still can’t understand how he always manages to turn your interactions into moments like this — moments so tender and charged that they feel almost deliberate, yet completely unspoken. The way your eyes linger on each other, the way you’re so close, sometimes even holding one another. How easily you’ve slipped into this dynamic with the Ferrari driver.

Why doesn’t this closeness feel strange? You’ve known him for such a short time, and yet it feels natural, like you’ve always been this way. The gentle way your fingers trace patterns along his, the soothing circles his hand draws on your side, a gesture so unconscious it sends a quiet shiver up your spine.

‘It’s just Carlos’ you tell yourself, as if that’s enough. Carlos, with his disarming warmth, his easy-going nature and unguarded affection. He seems so comfortable with this closeness, so unafraid to seek it out with you — it’s simply who he is. With you.

And somehow, without a second thought, you let yourself sink into it.

“What are you thinking?” he murmurs, his voice soft enough to blend with the gentle crash of waves. His gaze is unwavering, those warm brown eyes studying your face with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

The wind tousles his hair, leaving it a mess of dark strands framing his face. His bracelet catches the light as your fingers toy absently with the cord, the handmade piece adorned with his initials and the tiny Ferrari badge drawn on little white cubes. It’s a fan gift, of all things, but its presence now, between your hands, feels...

A pang shoots through your chest, the ache of it almost too much.

It’s not... real. None of this is real.

“Nothing, I’m…” you smile, the tremble on your lips so easily noticeable and so difficult to hide. “It’s just..., you know, this, and I’m...” you bite down on your tongue, physically restraining the words from escaping.

Forcing yourself to just shut up.

You take a breath in, trying to push down the thoughts that so easily started poisoning the moment. Your eyebrows draw together and you keep your eyes down, letting go of the cord of his bracelet like it’s burning.

It’s fake. Everything.

I’m scared, you want to say, I’m so fucking scared of this —of all of it. Thirty-six days of living this surreal, impossible life, of being thrust into a world of fast cars, flashing cameras, and unimaginable luxury. Of private boats and breathtaking views, of thinking how nice you fit into the arms of this amazing man. And the quiet horror of realizing how easily you could lose yourself in it.

“Carlos,” you begin, the words spilling out before you can stop them. But what are you supposed to say? That this isn’t real? The boat, this life, him? You glance at his expectant face, the furrowed brows, the quiet weight in his gaze. He’ll think you’ve lost it, that you’re going crazy under the weight of it all. “I don’t know how to say this, but I’m… you’re— none of this is—”

The sudden creak of the driving cabin door cuts through your faltering confession, and your head jerks up to see Charles stepping out, his phone clutched in one hand. He doesn’t notice you at first, his thumb furiously swiping at the screen.

He stops just short of the two of you, his gaze flicking up to you, then Carlos, and finally settling back on you. Something lingers in that glance, his green eyes catching the fading sunlight in a way that makes your stomach tighten.

“Think we should head back,” Charles mutters, his voice clipped, as though reluctant to interrupt. “Some weirdo’s been taking photos.”

Guess Charles wasn’t talking to his mum after all. Instead, it was someone from the Ferrari media team, calling to warn him about the photos of you that had been slowly making their way onto social media since this morning. They had just received a fresh batch of unseen ones just a couple minutes ago: a series of candid shots of the three of you, lounging on the boat, laughing, completely at ease, unaware of the long lenses pointed at you from the distance.

Both teams scramble to get the photos pulled, sending messages, making calls, trying to keep the damage contained. But it doesn’t take long for them to see the light. And, as expected, the reactions are far from kind.

_______

“You should stop looking at that” Charles advices, his voice even softer than usual as he sets the pile of plates and cutlery down onto the table on the back patio.

The faint scent of saltwater from the sea mixes with the cool evening air, and the setting sun casts a warm golden glow on everything around you. He moves with practiced ease, placing everything in its place.

You pull your legs from the chair and sit up, stretching as you glance back into the house. Phone left over the table, still displaying the article you found about your ‘escapade’. You hadn’t realized how much time had passed. Inside, the lights are all on, and the shadows of indistinguishable figures move about the kitchen, the soft clatter of utensils filtering through the open window.

“Are they already making dinner? Sorry, you need help?”

The Monegasque stops you with a swift gesture of his hand, starting to place everything on the table by himself. His hair is damp and unruly from his recent shower, the blue shirt he's wearing showing traces of the droplets that must have been falling just minutes ago. He looks so effortlessly nice.

“Don’t worry, Carlos’ mom warned us not to bother you”

“Is that so?” you chuckle softly, a hint of relief creeping in. But you don’t stop yourself from reaching for the forks and knives, setting them in their places on the table —seven seats in total. Carlos’ sister and her husband are joining you tonight. "You should’ve told me anyway..."

"I don’t think she’d let you help even if you wanted to. She even sent the cook home for the night" he calms you, finishing his task and resting his arms on the backrest of the seat opposite to you

“What is she making?”

Charles hesitates, his gaze darting back to the kitchen before turning to you again. His mouth opens and closes with stray syllables that don’t really make any dish you have ever heard before. “Some kind of fish, I think? They’ve said the name a couple times but I didn't get it” he shrugs lightly, but there’s a gentle smile on his lips. "It smells good though. That’s all I can say"

“It does smell nice” you give him, a grin of your own pulling at your lips. You sit down again as ordered, taking your still light up phone from the table and turning off the screen.

She should respect herself is the last thing you manage to read on it, one of the nicest comment of the hundreds hanging on the comment section of the page. You sigh. The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks a few meters away filling in the silence that falls right after.

“Try not to worry about it too much, okay?” he almost whispers, his hand moves through his hair, shaking it out of place “I know it’s hard, but... some people are just assholes, no use in reading the shit they put out there”

A sigh slips from your lips as you lean your elbows over the glass table and glance away, the weight of your thoughts pressing on your chest. "A lot has come up about Monaco too..."

While you can hardly stomach the repulsive comments surrounding the supposed relationship between you Charles, or Carlos, or both of them? Some even asking themselves how your closeness with Lewis might fit into the mix. The constant invasion of privacy, the sense that you’re being watched every second of every day, has been weighting on you lately.

They know where you've been. Where you ate. What you wore. They even managed to snap a picture of that tiny clay hedgehog Charles bought you back at the artisan market —a detail so small, yet so personal, and now it’s making the rounds in social media. It’s all out there now, for anyone to dissect, to judge, to speculate.

One thing is people knowing your hotel back in the middle of a Grand Prix, and another thing entirely is being followed back to Charles’ building entrance. There’s even photos of you carrying the suitcase inside the Sainz’s villa just couple days ago.

The thought of going back to Monaco after this trip to Mallorca feels suffocating. You’re not sure if you can face it. Not after everything. You feel so exposed, like there’s nowhere safe anymore.

Charles’s voice cuts through your spiraling thoughts. "No, I don’t even look at those things anymore," he confesses, the finality in his voice talking of a decision he took long ago. The driver has spent years on the spotlight, for good a not so much "Look, I know we talked about this before, but I really don’t care what anyone says."

His words linger in the quite night, his eyes never leaving yours. "I enjoy this. Being here, with you. Spending more time together outside of racing and being normal, you know?" His smile softens, but there's something deeper in his expression, something you can’t quite put your finger on. "And I loved showing you around Monaco, having you at home. So really, why would I care about what some loser has to say about it? This... this is just me and you. Us."

Oh, that’s...

What?

A rush of warmth blooms across your cheeks, spreading like wildfire through your chest, leaving you breathless for a moment. Your heart flutters, faster than it should, that’s so nice, so comforting in a way you didn’t expect. And the way he’s looking at you, the intensity in his gaze expressing a million things more than he can manage to put into words.

But where is all this coming from? He’s never said anything remotely close to this before. Sure, he’s talked about how great it was spending time with you, how much fun the last few days were, but this?

“I...” you stammer, the word barely a whisper as your mind struggles to catch up. You look up at him, heart racing and nerves threatening to unravel you entirely. What are you even supposed to say? His words, his tone, the way his eyes seem to search yours with such quiet urgency. It all feels so much deeper than just this conversation “I had a lot of fun too, Charles”

As soon as the words slip from your lips, you realize with a sinking feeling that you’ve said the wrong thing. The change in the air is almost tangible, as if the moment itself has shifted, taking on a new weight you can’t shake off. Charles’s smile is still there, but it’s different now. It’s more distant, reserved.

You open your mouth instinctively, your mind scrambling for something to say, something to undo the sudden tension. But the words don’t come. They’re caught somewhere, stuck behind the pressure building inside you.

But nothing comes. The words stay lodged in your throat, swallowed by hesitation, and all you can do is watch as he turns and walks away.

“Toma, dale a la cría más jamón, hombre (Here, give the girl some more jamón, boy)” Carlos Senior voice breaks through the chatter, abrupt yet kindly, leaning over the table to take one of the dishes of cut meat scattered around the table and giving it to his son.

You try to wave it off, an awkward smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, no, no, por favor,” you stammer, already chewing on a bite of the rich, salty meat. But before you can protest further, Carlos takes the plate from his father’s hand and places it in front of you. A bit of heat rises to your cheeks, “Sorry, it’s been a while since I last got to eat it and-”

“No, love, eat some more! There’s cheese here as well, do you want some?” Reyes, Carlos’ mother, swiftly diverts the talk, not waiting for an answer before picking another one of the dishes and sending it down the table towards you.

“Tendríamos pedir más y así se llevan los chicos (We should buy some more, so the kids can take them home)” she suggests to her husband, taking her glass in one hand and turning to the other guest at the table “Charles, do you like it too? And the cheese? We’ll prepare some for you to take back”

You laugh under your breath, trying not to look overwhelmed. The plates seem to multiply around you, the family circling you both in a flurry of food. You catch Charles’ eye across the table, his dimples flashing in an innocent smile. He’s probably not understanding half of the conversation, the rapid-fire Spanish swirling around him too much to keep up with.

Your mind drifts briefly to Nick, he's definitely not going to be happy about this. From the delicate codfish Reyes had spent hours preparing, to the fragrant cake Carlos' sister brought over, you’ve already eaten more than you intended. This time you’re truly not sure if you’ll fit on the car.

Well, the trainer had actually seemed quite willing to ease up on the strictness of the diet when you brought up your conversation with Daniel a few weeks ago. He even programmed a new plan just a couple of days later. For some reason and despite their differences, Nick was oddly pleased that Daniel had discussed the topic with you, even admitted he wasn’t really comfortable with such a rigid calorie count either.

So then, why was it programmed in the first place?

“Where are you taking them tomorrow?” Carlos' sister leans forward, finishing her piece of cheese as she watches the scene unfold around them, her eyes scanning the quiet evening.

“We were going to Palma, to see the market, but now that they know we’re all here...” her brother reclines lazily on the chair, a sigh flowing out his lips “I don’t know, maybe take a trip to Menorca?”

Carlos glances over at you and Charles, his eyes scanning for a response. You nod encouragingly, the idea appealing. It'll throw the paparazzies off for a while, the island not that far from you, but enough to be off the radar for a bit.

His father also supports the idea, instantly taking out his phone to show Carlos a restaurant they visited a few years back as a suggestion for lunch “Your mother loved this one, it had a terrace over the sea and all. And there was this plate of roasted lamb...”

Carlos and his sister both chuckle at the enthusiasm in the man’s voice, exchanging a look with their mother. It’s probably not the first time they’ve heard this story, and judging by the way their father dives into every single detail of it —even in English—, the last time won’t be anytime soon either.

The conversation drifts to other places worth visiting before they leave the island. The family has had this house for years, and while they know Mallorca like the back of their hands, they’ve explored the other islands multiple times as well.

After a while, Carlos’ hand fall onto your knee to gain your attention “Like the plan?”

“Menorca? Yeah, at least for tomorrow” you whisper back, your eyes meeting his. They’re the ones who know how to navigate the chaos of fame, so you better follow along with their advice.

The Ferrari driver nods, his hand giving your knee a reassuring squeeze before leaving it to rest there, calm and steady. The warmth of his touch lingers as the evening stretches on. Yeah, he’s getting too smooth at it, you think —but you don’t mind.

_____

Turns out the Sainz family has an excellent taste, from the restaurants they recommend to the activities Carlos is roped into taking you on. Menorca, it turns out, is even more enchanting than the glossy postcards or travel blogs ever hinted at, with its tranquil waters and the shimmering sun. You spend most of the trip in a blissful haze, thankfully managing to avoid too many encounters with paparazzi or curious fans.

That conversation with Charles from the first evening? It’s not mentioned again, by either of you. The air between you settling back into that familiarity slowly but surely. Still, it lingers in the back of your mind, and you make a mental note to talk things through with him once you’re away from all of this.

The days on the islands vanish like grains of sand through your fingers, blurring into an endless string of sunsets and laughter. You try to memorize every detail —the way the sunlight catches on Carlos’ grin, the sound of Charles’ rare and genuine laugh, the warm feeling being with them bring you. But no matter how tightly you cling, the end still comes.

Your escapade to the Balearic Islands has come to an end, and now you’re heading to Monaco for the last couple of days you’ll get to spend with Charles.

When the time to finally part ways at the airport comes, Carlos holds you tightly. His hug is firm, his arms wrapping around you as if they alone could keep you from leaving. He sways you gently from side to side, reluctant to let go.

“So, you’re coming back every break, aren’t you?” his words, though light, strike a chord deep in your chest.

You want to respond, to reassure him, but the truth lodges in your throat. Because this, whatever it is, probably won’t happen ever again. You won’t get to spend your holidays with the two drivers, won’t be able to talk to them again, to see them, to hug them. This dream, or whatever this temporarily insanity of yours is, will come to an end at some point. Right?

But even as you nod and give him a wry smile, the question haunts you: do you want it to end?

The thought keeps circling your mind over the following days and weeks, as you try to convince yourself of the only sane solution. You have to go back, to your apartment, to your work, to your life –How? You’ll have to figure that one out too. Nevertheless, this feeling reaches its breaking two weeks later, at the afterparty of the Belgian Grand Prix, cradled in his arms once again, this time under the crisp chill of his victory night as you lose yourself in his eyes.

Do you really want this to end?

“Thanks again for coming,” Carlos murmurs, looking down at you in a hug that you both refuse parting from. “I know you’ve been a little anxious about parties and going out lately”

You lean back slightly to look at him, the warmth of his presence anchoring you “I couldn’t miss it.”

“Who knows when I’ll win again, right?” he teases, a sly smile playing on his lips.

“Oh, shut it!” you laugh, swatting his chest. The sound of your voice bounces off the quiet entrance, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you.

“What? You’re the one who said it first!”

“Me?! When?” your incredulous glare only makes his grin wider “It’s you who heard that, always thinking the worst of me”

“If that helps you sleep at night”

You push at him in mock indignation, stepping back from the hug to create some distance, but your heel catches on the uneven ground. The world tilts alarmingly, but before gravity can do its worst, his hands are there—firm and steady—gripping your waist and pulling you back upright in one seamless motion “Nope, we’re not having none of that tonight”

“What? can’t a woman fall down with dignity now?” you spurt back, regaining your footing. Your feet hurt with these heels, you thought rich people parties were supposed to be more of sitting down fun, some wine and expensive food. Instead got that undanceable music

“With dignity?” he chuckles, low and warm, letting you adjust yourself but keeping his hold on you. You don’t know if it's in fear you’ll fall again or simply a need to keep you close “Someone just had a little too many daquiris”

You look at him then, big eyes on display and your lower lip pushed out, like a child caught red-handed and whine “They were so good, Carlos, so sweet!”

“I knew you’d like then,” Carlos’ smirk softens, glad you enjoyed the drink he recommended “When I tried the cherry one, I immediately thought of you.”

“Oh, that’s why it tasted like a lollypop!” The revelation feels groundbreaking in your slightly woozy state. His sweets words somehow flying pass you. You point at him accusingly then, wobbling a bit in your heels. “But don’t change the topic, I’m not drunk no more, I swear!”

“No? You’re not?”

“Perfectly fine now. Just the heels, I promise” you nod, you haven’t drink that much and he know it. He is just teasing “I’m, like, tipsy. Fun tipsy.”

“Fun tipsy, you say?” Carlos repeats in a chuckle, voice almost a whisper, and his gaze lingers. The noise of the party behind you fades to a distant hum. He looks at you, really looks at you, and something in his expression makes your chest tighten and your stomach flip in equal measure.

You don’t notice when his hands begin to slide, one moving up from your waist to rest just below your neck. His thumb brushes along your jawline, tentative but deliberate. The gentle warmth of his palm against your cheek is intoxicating, and before you know it, you’re leaning into the touch, your body betraying you.

“Then...” the man’s eyes glimmer, catching the golden glow of the patio lights. His voice is laced with hesitance, searching yours for a question he suddenly feels too shy to ask “Would it be okay if I kissed you?”

The question lingers between you, heavy with meaning. For a moment, all you can do is nod, barely aware of the small, trembling movement. The distance between you vanishes as he leans in, his hand cradling your cheek with a gentleness that makes your breath hitch.

When Carlos’ lips finally meet yours, it’s like the world stops spinning. The first touch is soft, testing, as though he’s afraid to break the moment. You respond almost instinctively, leaning into him, and that’s all the encouragement he needs. The kiss deepens, his lips pressing against yours with a growing confidence.

His other hand finds its way back to your waist, anchoring you to him, steady and unyielding. Your hand clutching his shirt while the other drifts up to his shoulder. The warmth of him seeps into your fingertips, your skin, until you feel like you might melt into him entirely.

Your heart pounds wildly in your chest, the sound almost deafening in your ears. His fingers graze along your jawline, tracing a path as if trying to memorize every inch of you in this fleeting moment. You’re hyper-aware of everything —his touch, the way his breath mingles with yours, the slight tug of his lips as he smiles into the kiss.

When he pulls away, it’s agonizingly slow, his lips lingering against yours as if reluctant to part. His forehead comes to rest lightly against yours.

“That was really nice” Carlos murmurs, his voice hushed, almost reverent.

“Yeah, it was” you agree, your voice barely a whisper. You lean back, looking up at him with a smile that betrays the fluttering in your chest and can’t help but chuckle “A bit unexpected maybe, but—”

"Unexpected?" he asks with a relaxed laugh, his fingers drawing invisible circles on your waist, his touch light but steady. "You can’t even imagine how long I’ve wanted to do that."

Before you can respond, he leans in for a quick, soft kiss, his lips brushing yours one last time, lingering just long enough to leave you wanting more.

“Like two hours?” you guess, playfully, as you play with the buttons of his dark shirt, and he shakes his head in denial

The sound of a car approaching cuts through the moment—the unmistakable hum of your Uber arriving. Carlos glances over his shoulder at the car, then back at you, his expression softening “Guess it’s time for you to go, I’ll tell you about it another day”

The Ferrari driver pulls back and reaches for your hand, guiding you down the stairs and toward the car. You pause at the door, feeling a little reluctant to part ways, but before you can say anything, Carlos steps close again. His hand slides to your waist, pulling you in for a brief but sweet kiss, one that leaves you with a small smile on your lips.

"Send me a message when you get there, alright?" he murmurs, his lips still close to yours.

"Yeah, I will," you reply, a little breathless, before stepping back and getting into the car.

"Goodnight, Carlos"

“Buenas noches, cielo”

Author's note: Thank you all so much for reading, any kind of interaction is greatly appreciated! I know it's been way too long

Taglist: @purplephantomwolf @raye2000 @yuiiimd @drezzerk33 @leclercdream @homie0sapien @minkyungseokie @carlossainzwho @rewmuslupin @kyuupidwrites @raevyng @lazybot @gills-lounge @hiraethrhapsody @jjkclub @darleneslane @therealcap @aespie

#carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 x you #formula one x reader #formula one x you

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 1 year ago

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141 Headcanons: On Holiday

John Price is 100% a dad type. He likes golfing and fishing and sailing. Activities that let him unwind, sometimes make new friends in the shape of other middle-aged men at the country club or at the docks or at the lake. Rents a little cabin by the lake, where you can take a soak or sunbathe, while he goes out with his little fishing boat and try (and fail) to catch something nice for dinner.

Johnny MacTavish is an adventurous type. He likes hiking and camping, stuff that lets him stay busy, and will definitely explore some forest or national park or mountain range. But he also likes fun activities. Music festivals, for example. He'll definitely book you all-inclusive 3-day-long tickets even though there's only one or two artists/bands you want to see, just so you can have that experience and have fun together.

Kyle Garrick is a family lad. His family is big and loving and they book a little trip every year somewhere fun. It might be a new destination, or it might be somewhere they've been before, or maybe somewhere to visit family. But he loves bringing his love along, go do all the touristy things, see all the landmarks, take loads of pictures, try new restaurants and new food, and do cultural things like reading all the plaques on statues and fountains and monuments.

Simon Riley likes peace and quiet. That's the jist of it. Needs it, in fact. So, prepare to rent a little historical cottage in the Cotswold, or maybe a beach condo, or a cabin in the woods. Doesn't matter, what matters it's that it's fairly isolated, with no neighbors to really bother him. He can sleep in late, with no one to force him to do things he doesn't want to do, no schedule to uphold, no people to answer to. He'll roll out of bed at noon, make himself tea and go sit outside and feell the breeze on his skin for once.

Crack headcanons: Beach Day Episode™️

John Price tends to burn, instead of tan, surprisingly. Probably because his uniforms tend to cover him from neck to toes, leaving only his hands and face showing... And if you'd expect his face to be immune to burning, you'd be wrong. Especially because he's terrible at applying sunblock. By the time you notice, his cheeks, nose and forehead are red, and there are white lines around his muttonchops/beard where the sunblock didn't absorb... so he just looks ridiculous.

Johnny MacTavish likes to say he's not English/British... until he goes on holiday to southern Europe and he's suddenly the perfect example of the stereotypical English tourist. Football jersey, denim shorts, socks and slides/sandals, his entire skin is burned to a crisp and red, and, of course, he's wearing the most stupid-looking sunglasses you'll ever see... And then he gets to the beach, takes off his shorts and he's wearing a red speedo.

Kyle Garrick is 100% the type to disappear off his towel while you're sunbathing and, by the time you notice, he's in a completely different side of the beach playing beach paddle ball, beach volleyball or beach football with a group of other blokes or even with little kids. And he does all this while wearing his little cap (but backwards) and while absolutely covered in tanning oil. Does he need it? No. But he likes the feel of it.

Simon Riley would not be caught dead in swimming trunks or a speedo. The man needs full coverage. He's in a wet/surf suit and wearing a facekini WITH his stupid dad sunglasses and, maybe even, a visor. He gets fidgety if he has to sit in his towel for too long so he's also the type who'll go for a walk out of nowhere, down the beach, and, eventually, cross paths with an Asian grandma who's wearing the same exact outfit as him.

#ikea writes 💚#masterlist #headcanon #simon ghost riley #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #cod headcanons #141 headcanons #holiday headcanons #crack headcanons #soap headcanons #ghost headcanons #price headcanons #gaz headcanons

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harpersessentials · 10 months ago

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i have been working on a little special trip with my harpers and i decided to explore the trip to egypt mod by nando. suddenly, the urge to have ancient egypt related cc (pharaos, pyramids, mummies...) became a thing. so i present you a selection of cc that i liked particularly. i hope it can help you in the future if you wish to explore a north african landscape in your sims game too.

p.s. all bullets with * mean it is a TSR link.

worlds & save files

trip to egypt (world modification) by nando

egyptian oasis save file by sims 4 collab

the sims medieval save by divan the simmer (oasis springs was turned into ancient egypt)

lots (no-cc)

trip to egypt lot by genkai haretsu*

maroccan mansion by mychqqq*

morocco by sharon337*

egyptian palace gardens by weekendbuilder

moroccan riad by weekenbuilder

egyptian bathhouse by beccatownsims

egyptian cocktails by camillevalentine

egyptian pyramid home by buddaguitarz

egyptian pyramid by oscarella

egyptian pyramid by kimmyal

ancient egyptian tomb by cutelilycat333

egyptian house alone by bankbest19482

super mansão marroquina by ac sims (dl here)

moroccan dream home by mr olkan (dl here)

moroccan oasis by amaranth sims stop motion (dl here)

maroccan riad by nolanasims

maroccan riad spa by nolanasims

maroccan house by nolanasims

maroccan souk by nolanasims

maroccan hammam hotel by nolanasims

maroccan house by nolanasims

arabian villa by the grim simmer (dl here)

tunisian house by simday

dream arabic villa by marmelad (dl here)

oasis retreat by sati sim

mansão marroquina by game simms (dl here)

the pyramids by sarahamina

ancient pyramid by virtualfairytales*

buy mode

egyptian stuff by sims 4 fun

egyptian relics by thejim07

a cat haiku by pforestsims

hair

hathor hair by sehablasimlish*

sahara sunset collab by savvysweet (part) /crypticsim/simtric

amani hair by alladin

monica hair by alladin

candice hair by alladin

ivy hair by simkatu

makeup & tattoos

egypt eyeliner by ngsims3*

treasures of hateshepsut by joliebean

grave digger - zobie facepaint by imtater

zombie stitches by pipco*

zombie skin overlay by imtater

princess ahmanet by overkillsimmer

agnes facepaint by magichand*

clothing

egyptian dress by tatyana name*

missandrei dress and cape by simmring

missandrei outfit by sifix

missandrei dress by sifix*

nemesis dress by sifix*

necklace top and panneled skirt by bustedpixels

cleo de nile outfit by colores urbanos*

mummy outfit 2 by pipco*

terses outfit by natalia auditore

pharaoh outfit 2 by natalia auditore

clothing for men ancient egypt by mara

mummy outfit by plumbobs n fries*

toddler egyptian formal dress by bekahluann*

egyptian robe for kids by bekahluann*

pyramid pals: egyptian kids set by clepsydra

accessories

spring/summer 2021 earrings by sentate

twisted alongated hoops by feyona*

keondra earrings by feyona*

medusa earrings by bluecraving

ariana earrings by solistair

coil necklace by bokchoijo*

egyptian collar necklace & males by bokchoijo*

egyptian bead collar necklace by bokchoijo*

keondra plate necklace by feyona*

helena necklace by feyona*

serpentine necklace by icecreamforbreakfast

leaves necklace by valley tulya

egypt snake upper arm tires by specialany

egyptian bangles by bokchoijo*

keondra cuff bracelets by feyona*

serpentine bracelet by icecreamforbreakfast

ds cuff bracelet by darknightt*

urmia rings by madlen

bandage set by nell

mummeh set by pinkpatchy

shoes

adriana feet by madlen*

life's a beach ibiza sandals by lvndrcc*

volos shoes by madlen*

babylon shoes by madlen*

gaspare sandals by madlen*

niella platform sandals by darknight*

gladiator sandals by clepsydra

jw sandals by mauvemorn*

premade sims

nikare & cat by jazmilia

egyptian cat by ratatanpan

#akitas picks #ts4 download #ts4 mods #ts4 historical #ts4 egypt #ts4 ancient egypt #dakarai

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ofstarsandvibranium · 8 months ago

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Beachfront Bliss

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick

Pairing: Billy "Fritz" Avalone x F!Reader

Summary: You're walking your dog, Delilah, along the beach until she decides to chase after a handsome man playing football with his buddies.

Manny Jacinto Characters Masterlist

The sun is slowly setting on San Diego. You'd just gotten home from work and now you're getting your dog, a border collie named Delilah, ready for her walk. She's excitedly shaking her tail as she stares up at you while you hold her leash.

"Wait," you command and Delilah sits, watching you expectantly.

You clip the leash onto her collar and open the front door, "Good girl!" Delilah promptly races out the door, only stopping when the retractable leash has met the end.

"Come!" you call for her and she rushes back to your side, sticking to it as you walk down your street and towards the beach.

As you grow closer, the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore become louder. Once pavement becomes sand, you slip off your sandals, stuffing them into your tote bag as you continue to walk.

There isn't a lot of people on the beach since it's midweek. However, you do see a group of people playing football.

The commotion alerts Delilah as the two of you near the group. There's boisterous laughing and hollering. The group spreads out as you grow closer, so you walk further away to not potentially be hit.

You avert your attention ahead, moving on from the football group, however, Delilah seems very keen on watching them, trying to stay in place.

"Come on, Lilah!" you lock the retractable leash and give her a warning tug, urging her to continue walking, "Let's finish your walk!"

Your commands fall deaf on her ears as she watches the group continue their game of football. One of the men throws the ball and another tried to catch it. The ball grazes his fingertips and causes the ball to go flying in your direction. It falls a few feet away from you and, before you could even blink, Delilah pounces at it. The sudden movement frees her leash from your hand.

"Delilah!" you shout as your dog starts running around the beach with the football in her mouth.

The group of people all laugh and begin to join you in the chase for your dog. Delilah clearly thinks it's a game as she dodges and weaves through everyone's legs. Men and a few women topple into the sand as they attempt to catch Delilah.

You and the others eventually start to slow down, growing tired of your dog's antics.

You stand there, hands on your hips, looking at your dog like a disappointed mother. She meanders over with a pep in her step and drops the football at your feet.

You sigh, pinching your nose, "Thank you, Lilah." You pick up the football and hand it to the nearest man. His tanned skin and toned chest are on full display. He's wearing classic ray bans and a smile that makes your heart stop for a moment.

"Sorry about her."

He chuckles, "Don't worry about it. Never thought it'd be a dog to take down a group of Navy Pilots."

Your brows shoot up in surprise, looking at the group of people around you, "You're all in the Navy?"

He nods, "Yup and I think you just proved to our Captain that we need to work out more."

You giggle, "Yeah. Again, sorry about her. She's probably a little stir-crazy. Haven't been able to take her out as much due to work. As you can see, she has a lot of energy."

The man kneels and begins to pet her, "She's cute so I'll forgive her. What's her name?"

"Delilah or Lilah or Deli."

"Well hello, Delilah, I'm Billy, but my friends call me Fritz."

"Fritz?" you look at him confused as he rises to a stand again.

"My call-sign."

"Frtiz! C'mon, man!" one of the guys hollers.

"I gotta-"

"You should-"

Both of you speak at the same time and stop with a chuckle.

Fritz holds his hand out, "It was nice meeting you..."

"Y/N. Nice to meet you Fritz," you shake his hand, "Enjoy the rest of your day."

"Thanks! You too! Maybe I'll see you guys around again!" he gives you a wave and heads back to his Navy friends who were all in position for the next game.

You watch them for a little bit, admiring the very attractive group of people before you. Then you chuckle, ruffling Delilah's fur before tugging her along. She's apprehensive, wanting to go back to "playing" with her new friends.

"C'mon, princess. We gotta go back home and start making dinner." Delilah reluctantly proceeds to follow you through the sand, leaving her new friends behind.

_______________________

It was your friend's, Jackie's, birthday and she wanted to do a bar crawl. You were one of the designated drivers so you've mainly stuck with water throughout the night and keeping a careful eye on your friend.

The next bar on her list was called the Hard Deck, which is apparently home to a lot of Navy officers. When you hear this, a part of you hopes you might run into Fritz, but there's no way, right?

Your group clamber into the bar, which was jam packed considering it was a Friday night.

"It's my birthday so feel free to buy me drinks!" you're already drunk friend hollers. A few men already begin to approach her ready to fulfill her request.

You tell your other friend, Abby, that you're going to find a table for your group. She gives you a salute and turn back to watch the rest of the group.

As you're weaving through bodies, you suddenly bump into someone, spilling their drink.

"Shit! I'm so so-Fritz!"

He looks at you in surprise, "Hey! Y/N!" then looks at you confused, "I'm kind of surprised to see you here."

You snort, "Yeah, um, not a place you'd usually find me at on a Friday night, but it's my friend's birthday," you point over your shoulder to Jackie with her birthday crown on her head and down a shot as your friends and a few Navy men cheer her on, "We're doing a bar crawl, but I'm the DD."

He nods in understanding, "Got it."

"Actually, you don't happen to see any free tables, do you? That's what I was doing before I bumped into you. Also, I will definitely get you a replacement drink for that!"

He chuckles, "It's fine. Really and you and your group can join me and my buddies."

"You sure?" you look at him apprehensively.

"Yeah, besides, I know a few of them will definitely pay for your guys' drinks," he gives you a smirk.

You snicker, "Alright. Let me go grab them."

"I'll follow you," he places his hand on your lower back as he follows you back to the counter where your friends are gathered.

"Hey!" you tap Abby on the shoulder, "This is my friend, Fritz," you point to him over your shoulder and he waves.

Abby gives you a questioning look, "Friend?"

"The guy I met on the beach because Lilah stole their football?"

"Ooooh!" she waves at him, "Hi!"

"Hi! I told Y/N that you guys can share tables with my buddies and I."

"You sure?"

"Oh yeah. Some of them will most likely pay for your drinks too."

Abby snorts, "Well I can't deny free drinks." She proceeds to tell the other women the plan and grabs Jackie's hand, leading her away from the men chatting her up.

She stumbles and you catch her, "Easy there, babe!"

Jackie spots Fritz over your shoulder, "It's my birthday!"

He laughs, "So I heard. Happy birthday!"

"Thanks!" she looks to you and not so secretly says, "He's cute!"

You chuckle, "Yeah, babe. Let's go to the table, 'kay?"

She nods, "Okay," and follows you and Fritz towards the back of the bar. He stops at three tables filled with the same group of people you saw on the beach weeks prior.

"Hey! Beach Girl!" a brunette with a thick mustache calls out.

You wave, "Nice to see you again."

"What're you doing here in our neck of the woods, beautiful?" the tall blonde one asks with a grin that makes you roll your eyes.

Jackie stands beside you and you gesture to her, "It's my friend's birthday. We're doing a bar crawl. This is one of our stops. Jackie, say hi."

Jackie waves, "Hi," she looks at everyone in awe, "Why are all of you guys so hot?!"

You facepalm, "Jackie's filter flies out the window when she's drunk," you explain to Fritz.

"The guys are gonna love it."

The men let the ladies have their seats, standing around them and making conversation.

You continue to stand beside Fritz, fanning yourself. He looks at you in concern, "You okay?"

"Just getting a bit warm."

"Wanna step onto the deck? It's just out there," he points to the double doors behind you. You take a look at your friends and make sure they're okay before you step out.

Once you're outside, you give a sigh of contentment. The cool breeze immediately chills your body in a welcoming way.

You rest your back against the railing so you can still keep an eye on your friends. Abby looks at you through the window giving you a questioning thumbs up. You smile giving her a thumbs up back and she goes back to her conversation.

"When did you guys start the crawl?"

You look at the time on your phone, "About two hours ago, but Jackie and a few others pregamed. So by the time we hit like the second bar, they were far gone already."

"How many more bars are on your list?"

"Jackie wanted to hit ten, but I'm not sure if we'll even get to the fifth one." There's cheers from inside as Jackie downs yet another shot.

"Not much of a drinker?"

You scrunch your nose and shake your head, "Nah. This overall thing isn't really me, but Jackie's one of my best friends, so I'll come out of my cave for her."

Fritz's nose crinkles as he laughs and you think it's the cutest thing ever.

"How's Delilah?"

"Good. She's happier now that work is starting to slow down and I can take her out for longer walks though."

"She hasn't stolen anymore footballs, has she?"

You snort, "Fortunately not, and she hasn't managed to take down another group of Naval officers either."

"Hey, she took us by surprise. We'd already been out there for a while, our energy was already low."

"Suuure. Keep telling yourself that, Fly Boy."

The two of you stay out there for some time, getting lost in conversation and each other's company. You've discovered that not only is Fritz handsome, but he's funny, kind, loyal, and a nerd. He has his parents and two sister back at home. He's a very family-oriented person and you admire him for that.

You two lose track of time and before you know it, Abby is coming out to you two.

"We're calling it a night. Jackie's is so far gone and some of the other girls are getting there."

"Alright. We should start closing tabs then."

"His buddies took care of it," she nods to Fritz.

You and Fritz grin at each other, "Told you," he says.

"Well, thank your friends for me. And thanks for keeping me company out here."

You step to leave, but Fritz stops you, "Wait, actually, is it okay if I get your number? I'd like to take you out some time."

You smile and nod at him, "Yeah. Of course!" you two quickly exchange numbers and promptly head back inside with Abby.

You gather your friends up, Fritz and his buddies helping you and Abby walk Jackie and the others out.

Your group piles into yours and Abby's car, waving at the group of men, "Thanks again, fellas!" you yell out before driving away.

Fritz stands there with his buddies and once you're out of sight, they begin to badger him about getting your number.

He reluctantly says that he did and his pals cheer him on with pride.

Before he goes to sleep that night, Fritz sends you a text:

It was nice chatting with you. Let me know your schedule so we can plan that date. Hope your friends don't give you too much trouble.

Sweet dreams. - Fritz

#billy avalone x reader #billy fritz avalone x reader #billy fritz avalone #billy avalone imagine #billy fritz avalone imagine #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #top gun maverick imagine #manny jacinto

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im-so-normal-i-swear · 13 days ago

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I had an idea and I’m sorry in advance

Telemachus wandered through the halls, trying his best to avoid everyone. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this.

Beaten, bruised, humiliated.

Back from searching for his father in vain. He’d returned a day early. He’d given up, like a coward. Maybe his father really was dead, and he was the son of nobody at all.

At least he’d found a sort of friend along the way, though he didn’t want to think about the way Pisistratus blushed when he dropped him off in Athens. He definitely didn’t want to think about those nights they’d shared in dingy rooms, sharing a bed. He had bigger problems at hand than a silly crush.

The suitors had beaten him to a pulp. He had lost, even with the help of a powerful goddess. Even worse, he’d fled only days after, to go find his father. Telemachus knew they didn’t believe a word of it.

He gritted his teeth. Antinous was going to pay for making him feel this upset, this…useless. He’d trained under Athena for some weeks now, he could beat him. He could rip him limb from limb.

Telemachus’s steps faltered. Had he really let that man drive him to this kind of anger? He shook his head. He couldn’t let Antinous change him.

His feet carried him through the halls, brushing a hand against the wall, touching every crack to ground himself. He wanted to go to his room and hide for a while. He could tell Penelope about this later, but for now he was exhausted, and if he was going to be honest, a little bit scared.

Had it not been for Athena, he would have died.

Telemachus stopped and shook his head. These kinds of thoughts were what would get him killed. He had trained, yes, but he still needed to stay alert.

Never show them you’re scared. They will rip you to shreds.

Penelope’s words from years ago surfaced in his head. She was right. He had to stay strong. For her.

Antinous’s voice floated through the palace, barely audible, cutting off Telemachus’s train of thought. He seemed passioned, and Telemachus thought he could hear other suitor’s shouts of agreement. What were they doing?

Ignoring the pain in his still-aching ribs, Telemachus ran as quickly as he could towards the voices. His muscles were sluggish and weary from travel, but that wasn’t important right now.

The voices grew louder and clearer as he sprinted towards them. He began to hear snippets of words. He slowed to a walk, stepping lightly to avoid making noise. A potted plant sat at the entrance to the dining hall where Penelope had set up her challenge. Quiet as a mouse, Telemachus crouched behind it and peered around the corner.

Antinous stood on the long wooden table, sandals crushing ceramic, voice carrying over the crowd.

“…a diplomatic mission,” he was saying mockingly. A chill ran down Telemachus’s spine. “And he arrives today. This is our chance at power, boys. We have one shot.”

Cheers rang through the room. Fists pounded, wine sloshed over the sides of cups.

“I say we gather near the beaches, wait till he docks his ship. We board it, and we cut. Him. To. Pieces.” He pounded his fist into his palm and strode across the table.

The men shouted their assent, and Antinous raised his hands to quiet them.

A strange sense of detachment settled over Telemachus. Surely, this couldn’t be real. It was just a dream. The suitors–no, intruders–surely weren’t planning his brutal death. This wasn’t his life. It couldn’t be.

Antinous continued, oblivious to the man hiding behind the corner. “I’ll drop his remains into the ocean, and when precious Queen Penelope wonders where her darling boy is, what’ll we tell her?”

“Nothing!” A hundred voices boomed, then dissolved into drunken laughter.

Antinous grinned, a slimy, toothy expression. Telemachus grimaced. What more could he be planning?

After he let the laughter die, he kept speaking, voice now hushed.

“And when we’re done, who will be there to guard the queen’s bedroom at night? Who will keep us from breaking down her door?” His voice got louder and louder as he went on.

“Nobody!” Came his response, one hundred seven men roaring their answer.

Telemachus felt sick. He had to tell Penelope.

He bolted towards her room.

“Mom, Mom, please,” Telemachus cried, barreling through her doors.

Penelope stood up from her loom, startled. “What’s wrong, my Little Wolf?”

Telemachus flinched.

Hands striking his face, his ribs, his arms, bruising and breaking. “Not so strong now, huh, Little Wolf?”

He shook the memory off. Bigger problems, Telemachus.

Telemachus took a deep, steadying breath. “It’s the suitors, Mom, they’re planning to kill me, toss me into the ocean, make it so you won’t find out, and then, and then…” his voice trailed off and he looked away. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t tell her. She would be so afraid. Telemachus wouldn’t be there to protect her.

Penelope took his face in her hands and forced him to look at her. “Telemachus. Son. Tell me what’s wrong.” Her voice was strong and steadying.

Telemachus looked up from the floor, eyes watering frustratingly. “The suitors… they’re planning to kill me, and then…” How could he say this? “And then I won’t be there to protect you from them. They’re planning to–they’re planning…”

Gods damn it, he was such a coward.

“Hey. Telemachus. Look at me.”

He wiped his eyes quickly, then lifted his gaze from the floor.

“We can stop this. We just need…”

Telemachus knew what she needed, or rather who. Odysseus. The father he never knew, who was twice the man he ever would be.

Telemachus was snapped from his self-pity by screams rattling the palace walls. Battle cries followed. Apparently, he couldn’t leave the suitors alone for more than five minutes.

Telemachus leapt up and grabbed his special double-pointed spear, folded right now, from his pocket. It was commissioned by Athena, engraved with an owl symbol, and crafted by Hephaestus himself.

“Telemachus, wait,” Penelope ordered, but he was already running out the door.

Dashing through the halls for the third time that day, Telemachus unfolded his spear.

Thank you, Hephaestus, for making such a perfect weapon. Athena, lend me aid in battle. I will make you proud.

The screams grew louder as he got closer. He rounded the corner into the dining hall and skidded to a halt.

Bodies littered the floor. Antinous’s corpse lay on the table, an arrow sticking out of his neck. Red dripped from the suitors’ wounds and covered the entire room.

Telemachus’s hands faltered, and his spear dipped, just for a moment. He had never seen such violence in his life.

Good riddance. One less problem to deal with.

Telemachus gripped his spear and crept towards the only darkened hallway. If the attacker was using arrows, the suitors would want to be covered by darkness, so they wouldn’t get shot.

A group of suitors huddled in a corner, weapons shaking, terror in their faces. One of them turned and saw Telemachus, standing like a ghost ready to kill.

–––––

“Telemachus, do you know what happens when we hurt other people?”

Ten-year-old Telemachus stood shamefully in front of his mother.

“Mom, it’s not fair. I wasn’t going to hit him, but he kept calling me names, and he said, he said that I was the son of Nobody,” he whined.

Penelope took her son’s face in her hands. “And do you feel better, now that you’ve hurt him back?”

–––––

“Lower your weapons.” Telemachus’s voice held strong. “And I’ll ensure you’ll be spared.”

Shit, was he really doing this?

“Not when the king is trying to kill us all, Little Wolf.”

The men jeered and raised their swords. However, all their bravado couldn’t disguise the fear in their eyes. Telemachus could use that.

“Trust me, I don’t want to have to hurt you, but I can and I will.”

He would ignore the ‘king’ comment for now.

The leader–Melanthius?–grinned sickeningly. “Brothers, we can use him to trick the king! Capture the boy, make the king obey us! And if he doesn’t listen, I’ll break the kid’s hands.”

Tens of men swarmed him, shouting. Telemachus fought harder than he ever had in his life. Dodge, roll, stab, block, kick, fight, fight, fight. Stay alive at all costs. Swords came at him from every angle. Telemachus could feel himself tiring.

A man, cloaked in shadow, aimed an arrow at the fray. Telemachus wouldn’t have noticed him if it weren’t for the red headband, fluttering in the corner of his eye.

Telemachus realized what the attacker was trying to do. He went limp.

The arrow flew, right into Melanthius’s chest.

Telemachus scrambled away, picking up his dropped spear.

“Mer…mercy,” Melanthius begged.

The attacker’s eyes narrowed. He raised his bow, stringing an arrow with perfect precision.

“Mercy?”

He loosed the arrow. Melanthius fell.

Man upon man fell to the attacker’s hand. Telemachus yelled out a battle cry and joined in, fighting side by side with the man.

They were a perfect duo. The man swung up to the rafters. Arrow after arrow sailed down. Telemachus stayed on the ground, spinning his double-tipped spear into the hearts of suitor after suitor. Screams filled the air once again, accentuating the sharp tang of blood.

It didn’t take them long to kill every last one.

The attacker swung down from the rafters and let his bow drop to the floor.

Telemachus was on him in an instant. He shoved him up against the wall and pressed the tip of his spear into the man’s throat.

The man did nothing to stop him. Why wouldn’t he fight him?

In the darkness, Telemachus saw the attacker’s face for the first time. A mole on his right cheek, a crooked nose, graying hair, scars tracing his skin.

Telemachus shared that mole. He had the same nose. He had the same warm brown eyes.

His spear clattered to the ground.

“Father?”

“Son.” The king’s voice was choked with emotion.

Telemachus was the son of Nobody no longer.

#epic the musical #epic telemachus #epic penelope #epic antinous #epic fanfic #epic fic #epic odysseus

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fandomsandflyingstingrays · 2 months ago

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The dialogue for this came to me out of nowhere while I was trying to fall asleep last night and I knew I had to write it, so here's my take on Circe meeting Penelope

“Spit it out, Hermes.”

A chuckle from the treetops was the only indication Circe got that the god had heard her. “Tired of my company already?”

“Always.”

“Hmm. No accounting for taste.” Hermes deigned to descend from the treetops at last, his winged sandals bringing him to hover just above the ground. “But since you insist, I came to give you a warning.”

Circe stiffened.

“A ship will be arriving shortly.”

She stood, dropping her basket of herbs.

“It’s friendly.”

She blew out an exasperated breath, even as her muscles relaxed. “Your definition of a warning could use some work. If they’re not a threat to me, why did you come all this way?”

“For their sake more than yours, darling. I have a vested interest in making sure you don’t add this particular crew to your pigsty.”

Circe rolled her eyes. “I haven’t turned anyone into a pig in eight years.”

“She’ll be glad to hear it.”

“She?”

Hermes disappeared before the question had fully left Circe’s lips. She rolled her eyes again, so hard that it sent a spike of pain through her skull, but she had to admit that he’d piqued her interest. The nymphs of Aeaea had come from many different walks of life, bearing many different tales, but none had ever arrived by boat. Whatever woman approached now would be different than any Circe had met before. It would only be fair to greet her in person.

Arrival at the shoreline only deepened Circe’s confusion. The boat docked at the beach was just like all the others that had arrived on Aeaea in recent years: same wood, same design, same pattern of men moving about. The lone, black-haired woman standing at the ramp truly was the only strange thing about it.

The man beside her caught sight of Circe and began waving frantically with both arms— more out of excitement than fear, she thought. Perhaps the woman wasn’t the only strange thing after all.

Circe waved back, albeit with a single hand and much more dignity, and approached the ship— only to stop in her tracks as her breath caught.

The man lowering his arms was clean-shaven and youthful and tall, but otherwise, he was a dead ringer for—

“Odysseus?”

The man bowed. “No, Lady Circe. My name is Telemachus. Although I’m told my father and I look a lot alike.”

So this was the boy Odysseus had spoken of with such affection. “It’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, prince of Ithaca.” Turning to the woman at his side, Circe added, “I suppose that must make you Queen Penelope.”

“That’s right.”

“Has the king come with you?”

“I’m afraid not. Our seas have never been calmer, but he still says he’s had his fill of sailing.”

So he had made it home, in the end. Warm relief trickled down Circe’s spine, but it chilled at Penelope’s next words.

“May I disembark so that we can speak more easily?”

Circe didn’t think the only kind man to set foot on Aeaea in centuries would have sent his wife and son after her for revenge, but it wasn’t out of the question that they had come on their own. She’d grown accustomed to her empty sty, and she wasn’t eager to fill it again. Best to find an excuse to send them on their way.

But still, Circe was curious— curious about what had become of Odysseus, curious about what his wife was doing on her shores. An entire crew might pose a threat to her nymphs, but one mortal woman she could overpower if need be.

“I’m not in the practice of allowing men into my palace these days, but you may disembark alone, if you wish.”

Penelope hesitated, and Telemachus squeezed her shoulder. “Go ahead, Mom. I’ll keep an eye on the crew.”

Penelope kissed her son on the head and swept down the ramp, clasping Circe’s hand once they reached the bottom. She let Circe set the pace as they set off for the palace, seeming content to walk in silence.

Circe made it all of five minutes before she could no longer tolerate it. “For what it’s worth, I apologize for attempting to seduce your husband.”

Penelope actually laughed. “Well, it’s not as though you knew he was married. From what Odysseus has told me, his loyalty to me was what inspired you to help him in the first place. And besides, having seduced him myself, I understand the urge.”

“Perhaps. But I doubt you were trying to get him to let his guard down so that you could kill him more easily.”

Penelope stopped, and Circe tensed. But when she turned, it wasn't anger on her face. It was sorrow. Almost pity, but not as grating. It was empathy.

“From the moment my cousin returned from the war with no news of my husband, men from across the island came to my palace to vie for his crown. I held them off for years, used every trick I could think of, while they eat my food and stole my possessions and tormented my child. Every single night, I barricaded my door and fought tooth and nail to sleep through my terror.” Penelope’s eyes hardened, holding Circe’s gaze. “Again, Lady Circe. I understand.”

In all her millennia, Circe had never felt so seen. It was a deeply uncomfortable experience— but liberating, in its own way. There was no shame in seeing herself in a mortal when she had been cast away by the gods. Circe had spent her years trapped, using all her cunning to keep her daughters safe. Just as Penelope had waited in her own prison, her wits the only thing keeping her and her son from ruination.

“Divine blood runs through your veins. I can sense it.”

If Penelope was confused by the abrupt change of subject, she didn’t show it. “Yes. My mother is the Naiad Periboea.”

It wouldn’t give her the same strength as one descended from a god, but Circe had taught many a Naiad before. She could make it work.

“With your husband’s return, I would imagine your suitors no longer plague you. But I’d happy to teach you how to turn such men into pigs, if you wish. There’s never any harm in being prepared.”

For the first time, the queen of Ithaca smiled. “Lady Circe, why do you think I'm here?”

#epic the musical #epic circe #epic penelope #epic telemachus #epic odysseus #ray rambles #ray writes

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augxst409 · 2 months ago

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The sun was beating down on the small but comfortable house Hannibal and Will had found themselves in after the fall. They were sitting in two of the sun chairs left there by the previous owners, either man having a plate of food in his lap, something Hannibal had made for dinner. After the fall, Will found himself clinging to Hannibal more often, craving his touch like never before. He always claimed to hate Hannibal, wanting to kill him with his bare hands, but now that they were seated on a beach in Cuba after a near death experience, Will didn’t want to lose Hannibal again. The older man had his hand against Will’s own, lightly stroking his thumb along the younger man’s knuckles.

“How did Chiyoh know we were there?” Will suddenly speaks up, breaking the silent tranquility of the waves crashing against the sand. “She isn’t unaware of me now, Will.” Hannibal starts. “She knew about the escape, and she knew I would bring you to the same house that I brought Miriam to, and Abigail.” He trails off slightly at the mention of Abigail, not wanting to upset Will any further. “About the only good thing she’s ever done to me.” Will mumbles, turning his head to look at the leaves blowing in the wind. “Chiyoh was, and still is very protective of me, Will.” Hannibal replies, trying to excuse Chiyoh’s behavior towards Will.

They’re silent for the remaining minutes, the only sounds being that of the ocean and cutlery scraping against the ceramic of their plates. Eventually, they finish their meals and Hannibal stands up, taking Will’s plate from him as well. Will doesn’t say anything, but he watches as Hannibal walks inside to place the plates in the sink. He comes back out a few moments later and holds out his hand towards Will. “A walk might do us some good.” Once again, Will doesn’t respond but he takes Hannibal’s hand, standing up and slipping on his sandals before they head to the shoreline.

“Your lack of eye contact has remained throughout the years I’ve known you, dear Will, but you’ve stopped using your glasses as a shield.” Hannibal remarks, squeezing Will’s hand ever so slightly. “No reason to hide from you now, you’ve unveiled every hidden part of me and fed it to the lion.” Will admits, taking a quick glance at Hannibal before looking back at the ground. “Why do you hold my hand? I doubt either of us enjoy the cliché show of affection. I’m not going to run away now, not anymore.” Will’s voice gets quieter at the end but Hannibal doesn’t comment on it. “A simple reminder that we’re both here in the present, that the dragon could not separate us.”

They walked until the sunset was shining over the horizon, making conversation that would contradict one another. They walked back inside of their beach house, toeing off their shoes once inside. Hannibal made his way towards one of the many bookshelves as Will walked into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, neither man spoke. Hannibal looked away from endless rows of faded and new spines, turning his attention towards Will who was setting down his glass. The younger man looked up and made brief eye contact with Hannibal, even with his high levels of empathy he was never able to get a perfect read of Hannibal.

After a brief moment of eye contact Will makes his way into the living room, sitting on the couch and watching as Hannibal finally decides on a book, taking a seat next to Will. Hannibal turns on the lamp next to him and begins to read, Will watching him silently. After several minutes of contemplation Will decides to rest his head on Hannibal’s shoulder. Hannibal looks surprised, but not uncomfortable, he simply shifts to get into a more comfortable position and continues reading. “Read to me.” Will speaks lightly, Hannibal doesn’t question his request and begins to read aloud.

The two men had never discussed the label of their relationship, nor will they. Hannibal is content with Will’s faint touches or his acts of affection that don’t go unnoticed, and Will is fine with Hannibal taking his hand every so often or making sure he’s unharmed after one of his many fishing trips. Although the love they feel for each other is very much present, there’s hardly been any physical contact to go along with it.

Hannibal takes a brief pause from reading to glance over at Will, noticing how the man’s eyes are barely open and his breathing has reduced to a soft pattern. “Will.” Hannibal speaks up. “You should go to bed.” Will lets out a yawn and stands up, sluggishly beginning his descent up the stairs. Hannibal watches for a moment before following in Will’s footsteps. He looks into the other man’s room and sees him changing into more comfortable clothes, Hannibal’s face changing ever so slightly at the brief glance of skin he sees from Will.

Throughout the night both Will and Hannibal sleep soundly, that is until Will jolts awake, sweating and panting. He squeezes his eyes shut but he’s once again met with the sight of Abigail, the ever going reminder of her untimely death. He takes a shaky breath and tries to lay back down, but he feels cold and alone. He stands up, his feet hitting the cool wooden floor, and walks to his bedroom door. He slowly opens it, the house eerily quiet at this time of night. He makes his way down the hallway and is met with the sight of Hannibal’s closed door. He hesitates for a moment before grabbing the handle and slowly twisting.

The door creaks open and he flinches at the sound, Hannibal stays still, however. Will licks his dry lips and swallows before walking inside of the other bedroom. He stands over Hannibal and just watches, the other man looking younger and almost innocent in his unconscious, Will knows the horrors of Hannibal’s life, though. He walks to the other side of the queen sized bed and crawls under the covers, flinching once again at the sound of the crackling comforter. He shifts under the covers and lays his head on the pillow. “Will?” A voice says, Hannibal’s. “Sorry I just… Can I sleep here?” Will asks almost sheepishly, not even trying to explain his actions. “You may do whatever you need, dear Will.” Hannibal answers, his voice laced with sleep before he goes quiet again. Will just nods and closes his eyes.

Will faces away from Hannibal and closes his eyes, his visions are still plagued with Abigail. He doesn’t notice it but he’s trembling, just trying to fall asleep but he can’t even find that simple comfort. Hannibal senses his discomfort and turns over, now facing Will. He scoots over on the bed, just enough to get close enough to Will that he could touch him if he wanted to, and he does. Hannibal extends an arm out and drapes it around Will’s waist, pulling the younger man closer. Will doesn’t move away, instead, he relaxes in Hannibal’s arms, interlocking their fingers together. His eyes finally relax and he feels the warmth of Hannibal’s body surrounding him in every direction, feeling comfort from the man who has once caused him so much pain and suffering.

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #will graham #nbc hannibal #hannigram #hugh dancy #mads mikkelsen

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