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lxclerc · 10 months

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𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ─ 𝐜𝐥𝟏𝟔

summary... a reunion between old lovers after five years and charles can't keep his eyes off of you. or his thoughts for that matter. faceclaim... christina nadin pairing… charles leclerc x reader warning… none so far. petty charles.

note... this is going to be part of a series that includes both one shots and smau but can be read as a stand alone

series masterlist

main masterlist

part two → current (part three) → part four

charles is a mess. truthfully this is to be expected but after five years, he thought he would be better than this but alas, you’re still as magnetic as he remembered you to be – even more so, if he’s being completely honest with himself.

you look different – older. where they used to be rounded, baby face is all sharp bones. your hair looks different, longer and styled. and you smell different too, no longer the floral scent you’ve been using since you turned fourteen.

you’re a stranger, he thought. he no longer knows your favorite color or your favorite meal or if you still like strawberry yogurt. he doesn’t know your favorite show or what perfume you use. he doesn’t know you. you’re a stranger and yet your eyes still do that thing where it creases to the point of being close when you smile and you still run your hand over your hair in an attempt to subtly fix it and your eyes still looks like pooled honey when the sun shines on it.

you’re so different, a practical stranger and yet so familiar, like going back to a childhood home finding everything in the wrong place yet still knowing your way around with your eyes closed.

he’s staring. he knew he is and he knew the amount of trouble he’d get from his team for it. he knew that everyone on twitter was probably already freaking out about it. he had clear instructions to act like nothing had happened and that the leaked pictures didn’t exist all. he’s supposed to act like you’re just another interviewer and this is just another media obligation he’s forced to do and you’re no one to him but he can’t help it. he can’t pretend like you’re a stranger when you left such a big imprint in his soul and he doesn’t have every freckle and skin tag and every inch of your skin memorized.

and so he stares. he stares at the way you shift in your seat in an attempt to get comfortable. he stares at the way the long sleeved white dress hugged your curves. he stares at the way you smile, the way you laugh. he stares and tries to remind his heart the way you’d left, the way he’d begged you stay. with you a few feet in front of him, closer than you’ve ever been in years, charles reminds himself the things he had to do to put himself back together after you broke him.

he tells himself that he hates you the same way he has been telling himself for five years now. he hates you and the way you walked away from him so easily. he hates you and the way you moved on so quickly. he hates you now for the way you’re not even affected. he hates you for loving him only to leave him.

“and that’s all for today, everyone,” you say with that dazzling smile that makes him dizzy. he needs to get away from you. you’re clouding his judgment and messing with his emotions.

after making sure the camera has stopped rolling, charles quickly removes the mic attached to him. the smile drops from your face as you see him so desperately hurried to get away from you. though you supposed you deserved that.

“mate, you good?” carlos asked him quietly as charles practically slams the mic on the table. he seems worried and charles hadn’t even realized how angry he looks right now. he glanced at you, watching as you discussed with the producer, the wind blowing at your hair and the careless smile on your face. he hates you but you’re also the most beautiful person he’s ever met. he hates you and he’s so fucking tired of wanting you.

he forced a smile on his face for carlos’ sake. “fine.”

he’s already walking away when you called his name, not like you had in the show – filled with fake friendliness. this time, his name rolled off your tongue effortlessly. you called his name like you had a thousand times before, like nothing has ever changed. the entire set was calling to him but he didn’t seem to hear.

“charles,” you called and immediately, he stopped in his tracks. he only heard your call and somehow that made him angrier at himself than he ever could be at you.

his face is empty and void of any emotions as he turns to you and you swallow down the lump in your throat as you force a smile at him. you hoped it doesn’t look as fake as it feels. “we need to take a picture. for social media.”

he may as well have spat at you with the look in his eyes. it made you feel small. he makes you feel small and suddenly you’re eighteen again, so small and insignificant next to him.

as you and the two ferrari drivers posed for the photo, both charles and carlos respectfully wrapped an arm around you. you can feel the heat of charles’ body next to you, seeping right through your dress and spreading across your skin. his cologne is different – more rich and expensive but somehow still so him but his aftershave is the same as it has been since he was fifteen, so familiar and comforting to you and you almost can’t help but lean into him.

he’s pulling away before you can gather your thoughts, already walking away from you.

—

charles should be celebrating. he finished on the podium which is pretty much a miracle nowadays. in fact, it’s a miracle to even be finishing the race with how his season is going but he’s been pretty distracted the whole weekend, seemingly only ever able to get you out of his head whenever he’s going two hundred miles per hour. he almost wants to laugh if he doesn't feel so pathetic. it’s somehow still exactly like before - with him needing to find some ways to risk his life just to be able to get you out of his mind.

drinking the night away as he wallowed in self pity due to the thought of you is also entirely too familiar.

“mon pote, comment peux-tu encore la laisser te faire ça ?” hugo asked, watching him. “cela fait des années” mate, how are you still letting her do this to you?... it’s been years.

charles only gave a sarcastic smile. he doesn’t entirely know the answer to do that either. apparently the years between the two of you didn’t matter because you still have the exact same reaction to him. you make him lose his fucking mind, unable to to think straight. he does things he says he never will when it comes to you. he becomes desperate and weak and unable to handle his own emotions. he doesn’t understand himself when you’re around.

maybe that’s why you left in the first place. the two of you affected each other far too much. it’s entirely too easy to get lost in each other and forget about everything else.

“elle a l'air différente. elle a aussi une odeur différente,” he says before taking another shot. you’re so different and he hated it. he hates that there are things in your life he doesn’t know anymore. he hates the fact that you changed your perfume and that you can so easily pretend like he’s no one to you. if you can act like he’s no one to you so easily then perhaps he didn’t mean as much to you as he thought he did. she looks different. she smells different too.

you were his lifeline, the air in his lungs. you were everything and he would have given up anything just to keep you. he would have given up racing and his dreams – everything so he didn’t have to lose you.

joris rolls his eyes. he knows this entirely too well unfortunately, he’s seen this exact scene before. “cela fait cinq ans, charles. bien sûr qu'elle a changé.” it's been five years, charles. of course she's changed.

that only makes him laugh bitterly.

—

on the other side of the city lies you, cocooned in your fleece blanket as you stare at the wall.

throughout the years that you and charles have bumped into each other, it had mostly been just surprise in his eyes – as though he could never quite believe that you’re in front of him. usually, you’ll be gone before it can change.

today was different. there’s no surprise in his eyes nor was there any of the familiar warmth you’re so used to. today, he was filled with anger and indifference. he looked at you as though he hated you. and the worst part is that he probably does. the entire time it was as though he couldn’t get away from you fast enough, like he couldn’t stand even being in the same room as you. your entire life, charles has only ever looked at you with adoring and devoted eyes and now he can’t even stand to look at you.

“il ne vous déteste pas,” arthur says over the phone with a roll of his eyes as though you’re being ridiculous for even suggesting such things. he doesn’t hate you.

but arthur wasn’t there. arthur didn’t see how charles practically ran away from you. still, you say nothing to the matter, far too upset to even bother trying to defend yourself.

“i’m going to go to sleep, art,” you say softly instead. “it’s pretty late here.”

you and arthur say your goodnights before you shut off the call. but just as you’re about to place your phone down for the tonight, it lights up with a text message. your eyebrows knit together in confusion. who’d be texting you this late anyways?

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cozage · 1 year

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Omg what the heck 2k!?! I’m so happy for you like I remember when you started this blog some time ago, and you blew up fast 😭 also that era when you got shadow banned. I wanted to request the monster trio with option 1. So how about a meeting their S/O after the 2 year gap but they ended on argument so now what would they say after not seeing them for two years.

A/N:😭😭i forgot about the shadowbanned era omg. I almost stopped writing completely then. That was a CRAZY time. Thank you for reminding me of that LOL

Characters: gn reader x Sanji, Zoro, Luffy Total word count: 750

A Postponed Apology

Sanji

“My love! You’re safe!” Sanji tackled you, both of you falling to the ground entangled in one another.

He pushed back the hair from your face and covered you with kisses in between his words. “You’re here! I missed you so much!”

“Sanji,” you laughed, trying to push him off. “You’re smothering me!”

“I’ll smother you forever!” He pressed his head against your chest, humming pleasantly as he listened to your heartbeat. “I’ll never leave your side ever again!”

Your fingers ran through his hair as tears filled your eyes. You hadn’t expected this reunion to go so smoothly. You had expected Sanji to never speak to you again, maybe even come back with a new crew member recruit. You wouldn’t have blamed him, not after all the horrible things you said to him.

“You’re not mad?” you whispered softly, afraid your voice would betray you.

“Why would I be mad?” he asked, still listening to your heart beat in your chest. “I’m just grateful you’re okay.”

“But our fight…” Tears spilled out of the corner of your eyes and down your cheeks.

“Our fight?” he asked, clearly confused. He pulled his head away from your chest to look you in the eyes, and you could see his soul shatter at the fact he was making you cry.

“Do you mean the one from two years ago?” he asked. “Darling, don’t even worry about that. All that matters is that we are here together now, and I’m never letting you go again.”

Zoro

It took your eyes a second to adjust to the darkened room, but Zoro’s voice rang out.

“So, you’re the second one to arrive, huh?”

You hadn’t expected Zoro to be there. He was always getting so lost, you had assumed it would be anyone but him.

“Nobody else is here yet?” you asked, joining him at the bar.

“Just you and me.”

Silence filled the air, the heaviness of your last conversation still weighing on your shoulders.

“Zoro-”

“Don’t apologize,” he said. “It was two years ago. It’s not a big deal.”

“No.” You shook your head, finally turning to look at him. “I should’ve never said those things. If I had known-”

“But you didn’t know.” He sighed, picking his beer up and taking a long drink. “Are you still upset about it? Do you even remember what we were fighting about?”

“Well no, but-”

“Then it doesn’t matter. We’re together now. Let’s make up for lost time instead, okay?”

You smiled, relieved at his words. He had never been one to hold a grudge.

“Okay.”

Luffy

You kept your distance from Luffy until everyone went to sleep. It had been a long day full of emotions, and he was busy enough with his captain duties. The last thing you wanted to do was inconvenience him any further.

“Sanji!” Luffy called, entering the kitchen. “I’m-oh! Hey!”

Your heart quickened at his voice. You weren’t ready to face him yet. Even if you knew you had to.

“Hey Luffy,” you whispered. “Sanji went to bed, but he made this ice cream sundae. You want it?”

Luffy’s mouth grew into a big smile, his eyes growing wide. He grabbed a spoon and slid into the booth next to you. “You’re the best! You know that, right?”

You gave an awkward laugh. “I guess we need to talk, huh?”

Luffy looked at you, a blank and confused look on his face. “Talk about what?”

It was hard to look at him, but you forced yourself to. “Our last conversation?”

He was trying to remember, you could see his brain going into overdrive as he recalled your last moments together on Sabaody. Finally, he shrugged and shoveled a scoop of ice cream into his mouth.

“I don’t remember our last conversation,” he admitted.

You raised an eyebrow. “The fight? Because if you want to break up-”

“Why would I want to break up with you?” Luffy asked. “That’s the last thing I want.”

“Well, I said some pretty harsh things, Lu.”

He knitted his eyebrows in concentration, trying to remember. For a minute you watched him, and you could’ve sworn steam was coming out of his ears. But he shook his head. “Sorry, I don't remember that at all.”

You laughed. You should be surprised or offended. But that was just Luffy. “So we’re good?” you asked.

“Of course,” he said, offering you a bite. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 3 months

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Hiii!! Can I make a request? Its kinda long tho so I totally understand if you don't wanna write it !! :)

so basically what I had in mind is rhys' sister!reader x az, she got kidnapped by hybern on the day rhys's mother died and everyone had thought his sister died too but she didn't she was kidnapped and her memories were erased. After the war with hybern the ic runs into her and shes all bloody and injured because turns out she was fighting hybern soldiers as well because she finally saw an opportunity to be free. As soon as rhys saw her he recognises her but before he could even utter a word, she faints, so they take her to night court and nurses her back to health. When she wakes up she gets really emotional when she sees rhys because she feels like she should know him but she doesn't cuz she doesn't have any memories, later they get helion to fix her memories and there's a very emotional brother sister reunion. Az finds out he's her mate but he doesn't tell her and rhys is very protective of reader cuz he just got her back so he forbids az from dating her or anything, but she doesn't know that so she thinks az doesn't like her back so she's devastated over that. I didn't think of what would happen after that so you can come up with the rest but pleeeeeaaasee give az and reader a happy ending. Also can you include that reader had dreams of az the way rhys had dreams of feyre? 🥹

Thank you and I hope you have a good day!! <33

I switched it ever so slightly, hope you’ll still enjoy it!🤍🫧Part II

Lost and found

It’s your hair he sees first. There’s something in the onyx gleam that screams familiar. That is different from any other shade of black. Rhys’s mother always said that they bore all shades of the night sky in their hair. As a gift from the gods. It wasn’t pitch black, no. There was depth. Stars even. They gleamed. You gleamed. He nearly sank to his knees once you turned your bloodied face towards him. It felt as if looking in the mirror. He had pictured you in his head. Had made Feyre paint you. Paint you how he imagined you would have looked all grown up. If you had that chance if you were still with him. His little northern star. And you were here now. In front of him. Sward in hand as if you weren’t sure if you were supposed to stab him or leave him be. Shaking and so frail. Line Feyre was. Just like Rhys had found his mate. Broken and confused. Unsure of anything. Jumpy and scared. “Yn”, it’s a whisper but from the way your body shivers Rhys knows that the name speaks to you. Does his voice speak to you? Do you even remember? “I just want to be free”, you mutter, “Help me get free”. Rhys watches your body sag and his legs move forward before he can even think. Arms reaching for your body. Desperate to break your fall. To save you from this at least in hopes this would somehow make a difference.

Rhys sits by your side from the moment Madja lets him in. She’s doubtful about you waking up soon. Even more doubtful if it’s good for Rhys to be there. And a part of him knows it too but he can’t help it. It’s as if he’s pulled to you. By the need to see you. To know that he hasn’t just imagined you. Your eyes flutter open after a week of nothing but shallow breathing. Your body feels heavy and achy. The walls surrounding you are unfamiliar. But there are no shackles. No ropes. You’re in a big bed. With silk sheets around you. And then your eyes land on a male sitting in the chair. He’s watching you. But watching you as if observing a wild animal that might flee after a move too sudden.

“How are you feeling?”, he speaks up and his voice alone scratches something deep inside your brain. Something you should know. But you don’t. You can’t reach. “I’m Rhys. You’re in my court. You’re safe”, he continues, leaning in slightly, moving to reach for your hand that you quickly pull closer to your chest. You see the hurt flash in his eyes. But it disappears almost immediately. He bares your features. His eyes are your eyes and that’s enough to make your heart pick up. Is he family? A far down-the-line relative?

“You look at me like you know me…”, you mutter, feeling your eyes burn, “but i don’t know you”. Rhys takes a shaky breath and you could swear his hands are trembling. But he smiles regardless, “That’s okay, we have time”. You watch him for a moment, a stranger in front of you. They said that you had no one. There was no one out there for you. “What if I don’t want to know you?”, that’s a blow that leaves a permanent mark on his face, the frown line between his eyebrows. “That’s okay too. I won’t force you”, Rhys’s voice grows shaky, “All you need to know is that you are safe. I and my people will keep you safe. You told me that you wanted to be free. You’re free now”. He stands up quietly. Pushing the chair to the side. You catch a glimpse of a female standing at the door as he moves to leave the room. The door isn’t fully closed when a sob slips past his lips. She embraces him and it’s all muffled by the closed door.

“She’s wiped clean”, Helion’s words send another blow at Rhys’s chest. “There might be bits of her past there but… this will have to be gradual Rhys, if it all was taken from her, getting all the memories back might fry her brain out”, Helion crosses his arms over his chest watching you in one of his gardens. Hand outstretched to one of his Pegasus. He remembered the little girl. Sat on his knee. Mischievous little thing, he had called you. Now it felt like looking at a ghost. “But is there even a slither of hope?”, Rhys asks, desperately trying to cling to the future where you would recognize him. Helion sighed, “Take this advice from me, someone older than you”, turning to face Rhys, whose troubled face had grown ashy over the past month. “Creat memories with her from now. Build her up from nothing and that alone might make her remember” But how could he? How could anyone just wipe out the grief and terror? The feeling of losing someone and then finding them back once more.

Azriel had sunk to his knees in the room you had laid unconscious for a week. He knew you were mates even then. Both young and careless. He remembered your first kiss. Rushed and messy in one of Rhys’s father’s stables. You had pulled him out. Had been his haven ever since your mother had taken both him and Cass in. Losing you had messed with his head. He had mourned you just the same. Had closed off his heart for anyone. Meaningless fling got easier with time but he still caught himself thinking of you. Calling out your name. Leaving the females snarling at him.

Azriel thought that glimpses of cells. Of you locked up. Scared and crying were nothing but a fickle of imagination. He saw you drawing night skies. He saw you kill. But now he knew that it had been your unconsciousness calling to him. Zaps of bond binding you both connecting momentarily. He hated himself. He hated that he did nothing. That he had let go. Had given up. But they had found the body. Berried someone. Someone who wasn’t you. Azriel only visited once. That one time and then he erased himself out of the equation. Because maybe it was better that way. Because he wasn’t worthy of your love. He couldn’t protect you after all.

Rhys was happy with that choice too. It was petty but he didn’t want to share you with anyone. Not that he had you. Any part of you. Because nothing changed. He talked. Told you stories but you just shook your head. You didn’t know him. You didn’t trust him. And nothing he did made any breakthrough.

It was the night Azriel had accidentally walked into the study where you and Rhys were. Ready to drop off the reports he had written for the week’s work. His black shirt is slightly unbuttoned. Sleeves rolled up. Your eyes had drifted away from the painting towards the man standing in the hallway. Man your eyes always seemed to find. Man who had been avoiding you ever since you got here. It painted you slightly. It was the only person you seemed to want to reach but he was the only one keeping the furthest away.

Your eyes landed on his arms. The dim light dancing on the black ink snaking up his left arm. The book you held slipped past your fingers. Clattering to the floor with a thud. “Y/n, dear, is everything alright?”, Rhys was in front of you in an instant. Worried face searching yours. “Your left shoulder”, you muttered, pointing at Azriel. He halted in his movement. The handful of papers stuck midair. “Show me your left shoulder”, you muttered.

Azriel’s eyes looked up at you, “What for?”, it was colder. He was protecting whatever was there. Holding onto the last part of you he had. You stepped past Rhys. “I know that… pattern”, you muttered. “It’s old Illyrian”, Rhys cut in but Azriel only lifted his hand. “Please, I…”, the fuzziness around you ripped as you reached for your dress, yanking the sleeve off, bearing your shoulders to Azriel. His jaw clenched, as he looked away for a moment. And then he ripped his shirt open. And there it was. The same pattern all across his shoulder as well.

Taking a shaky breath you let your head fall into your hands, “You chose it…” A light sob slipped past Azriel’s lips, “I did”, he nodded watching you. “Because you were a bitch about it”, turning to Rhys you pointed a finger at him. “You matted my baby sister behind my back?”, Rhys hissed, the jumble of emotions was making everyone drown. “Mom knew about it, she approved”, you whispered, “Where’s Mom?” Your eyes looked up at Rhys. He slowly shook his head. Another wave of flashes floats through you. You reached back in a frantic breath, “Where are my wings?” An angry tear slipped down Rhys’s face. “Where are they? Where is she?”, you looked among them. Feeling panic slowly drowning you. “Come here”, Azriel pulled at your head, bringing your face to his chest. “No, don’t smother me”, you pushed against him, but Azriel held on tight, holding your shaking form, feeling the burning gaze of his high lord, “I’ve got you. It will settle. Just breathe with me”.

#rhysand acotar imagine #rhysand x reader #rhys x you #rhysand acotar #azriel acotar imagine #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel spymaster #acotar imagine #acotar x you #acotar x reader

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authorhjk1 · 6 months

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Dea Romana

(Minatozaki Sana X Male Reader)

(Author's note:

Hi everyone! Thank you for patiently waiting for me! I'm done with writing my exams now, so I will be able to write more again until Juli. Since I like history a lot, the beginning got a bit longer than originally planned, but I hope you will be able to enjoy it nonetheless. I tried to make everything as historically accurate as possible, but please don't expect everything to be true.

Stay healthy! I will do my best to upload the next piece as soon as possible!)

Every muscle feels like it's burning. Your legs and arms feel heavy. Your feet barely lift off the uneven ground with every step you take.

Dried blood stains your face. Your armour doesn't look much better. The shield you are holding, has a big dent in it. The javelin in your right hand feels like it's made out of steel. The chainmail on your chest weighs heavier than usual.

"Marius!"

Your second in command shouts at you from the back.

"The women need a break!"

You sigh in annoyance. It's bad enough that you almost got your whole century killed. Now you have to delay your reunion with the rest of the legion because of those Gaul captives.

"We will take a short break."

You announce to your eighty legionaries and the twenty rebels you captured.

Spotting a small stream near by, you walk closer, while most of the soldiers sit on the ground, some are standing guard.

Taking off your helmet, you start to wash your face. The dried blood sticks to your skin. After some effort, you are just a little bit cleaner.

Another sigh leaves your lips as you kneel in place. In front of the small stream, your century in the back, looking into the deep forest.

You have lived a hard life. You were not born a Roman. Not born a free man. But you took your life into your own hands, instead of hoping for the mercy of the gods. Because gods don't have mercy. Only you can change your own destiny.

"Let's keep marching. We are almost there."

You go back to the front of the century, your men following your orders. Most of the Gaul rebels you captured are women and children. Their husbands and fathers killed by your swords and javelins.

Orders are orders. To kill or to be killed. These are the only two principles you live by. At least most of the time.

"Have you heard yet?"

Quintus asks from behind you, catching your attention. You silently wave for him to walk next to you. It's not necessarily the gossip you're interested in, but you did learn that it's important to know what is going on inside your century and the legion itself.

"Aelius fucked up some of his soldiers."

You raise your eyebrow while you keep walking. Nothing new there. Aelius is a spoiled son of a whore. He only became centurion in the tenth, because of his family's status. And he is usually unnecessarily brutal with his century.

"Reason?"

"They ate some of the extra rations we all got a week ago. Aelius said that they are meant for centurions only. Not for legionaries."

You have to stop yourself from spitting onto the muddy path you are walking on.

Aelius paints the perfect picture of the Roman nobility. Rich assholes. Nothing more. Nothing less.

"Did he kill someone again?"

Quintus shakes his head.

"But I heard that the premus pilus had a talk with him."

You let out a dry chuckle.

"All the centurions of the first cohort are the same. Do you really think he got in trouble?"

"No. But I thought you would be interested. It's not like you have very good connections with-"

"Shut it, fool."

It's not really a secret in the tenth legion that you and Aelius are bitter rivals. The two of you are the completely opposite of one another. A rich brat, who is the centurion of the third century in the first cohort. And you. The former slave, who climbed the ranks to be the centurion of the first century in the second cohort.

There aren't many ranks that separate the two of you. But making the jump into the first cohort as a former slave is nearly impossible.

Your century walks in almost complete silence for the next couple of hours. Despite being one of the most feared soldiers in the legion, you can't help but be cautious. In case there are more rebels lurking in the shadows of the large trees.

"Marius!"

The scout you send out to check the path ahead is jogging in your direction.

"We take another short break."

A light murmur of gratitude echoes through the ranks.

You wait for the young man, barely older than a boy, to reach the spot where you are standing.

"Someone seems to be traveling towards the camp. Our paths are going to cross, once we reach the small clearing ahead."

"Do you know who it is?"

"It looked like a person from the nobility. There was a carriage. And a couple of men with spears. Probably guards."

"We can't be too cautious. Titus!"

You shout for your second in command to walk to the front.

"Take your contubernia and make fast pace. I want to make sure that everything is going according to regulations."

"Yes, Marius."

The rest of the century starts marching at normal pace again, while the eight men rush ahead. The scout leading them towards the small crossroads.

"You know what's going on?"

You shake your head at Quintus' question.

"Might be a politician from Rome. Or a nobleman's wife."

"You know that that's against the law."

Of course everyone knows. It's illegal for a legionary to be married. And yet, some centurions always think that they are above the rest of the legion, when it comes to this kind of rules.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

An angry shout echoes around the forest, just as you and your men reach the small clearing.

The scout was right. A carriage, pulled by two grays, accompanied by a handful of men, armed with spears, and some servants.

An older woman is standing in front of the carriage's door, screaming at the poor Titus. Glancing over his shoulder, your optio rolls his eyes.

"Woman. Don't scream at a Roman legionary."

You make your presence known as you keep walking towards the middle of the clearing.

The servant, probably around forty to fifty years of age, looks at you with anger in her eyes.

"Do you even know, whom you are holding up?!"

"No."

You state bluntly, finally standing in front of her. Behind you, you can hear your men take their positions. Not to threaten the travelers, but to guard the area.

"Well, she is one of the most prestigious women in all of Rome."

"And what is a woman like her doing so far away from the city?"

"Visiting her husband."

You click your tongue. As far as you know, none of the centurions in the first cohort have wives. Which means, she must be the woman of a centurion, who ranks lower than you.

A smirk, which you can't suppress, plays around your lips. How are you able to enjoy a higher position than a noble in this republic?

You walk off without another word, leaving Titus in charge. There is no need to bother with this stuff. Some of the Gaul rebels fell a little behind earlier. You have to check on them. In case they are sick or badly injured.

"Her name?"

You hear Titus ask, before the woman let's out an exaggerated gasp.

"Sana Lucii."

You groan in annoyance. By Jupiter. Is this really his wife? Lucius Aelius? Just when you thought, you couldn't hate that man even more.

You despise men, who don't follow the law and rules of the republic and the legion. Of course, sometimes you can define them a little different for your own gains, but this is just breaking them.

Trying to stay calm, your fingers tap the pommel of your gladius. You don't hear a response from Titus. He must know which Lucius the old woman ment.

"Marius?"

He finally makes you turn around.

You walk back up towards the carriage, just as the door opens.

"By Bellona! What is taking so long!"

You have to say, you are amused by the woman's expression. You didn't expect her to call out for the goddess of war.

"Just doing our duty, lady."

Titus answers politely, although you know how hard it is for him to not lash out. He hates Aelius just as much as the next soldier. Especially, since he is your optio.

You are stunned, once the woman actually shows herself. Her beautiful face is slightly twisted with annoyance. Although, you would be sure that she could look like Venus herself, when she smiles.

She is wearing a turquoise stola, which also covers her brown hair. The thin material enables you to have a look at her white tunic underneath. Her skin looks flawless and pure. A golden necklace adorns her neck and collarbone. It's probably worth more than a whole year of your salary.

An image of a goddess.

"I hope we can speed up this process. I'm supposed to be by my husband's side."

Lucky bastard.

"Please. Speak respectfully with my legionaries."

Her gaze meets yours. You can feel your heart skipping a beat. Not one woman has looked as pretty as she does. Not one.

"Who are you to lecture me on speaking?"

"Salve."

Your fist meats the blood stained chainmail on your chest.

Maybe, if you behave respectfully, so does she. The army is for her protection after all.

"My name is Marius. And-"

"What's your first name, centurion?"

A cute smile suddenly plays around her lips. Maybe this will get her out of here faster.

"Gaius."

"I see, Gaius. I'm sure you have more important things to do than stop me from traveling further? My husband must be waiting for me."

If she didn't know better, Sana could swear that she caught a glint of hate in your eyes.

"This is protocol. We have to check on everyone, who approaches the camp."

"I'm a noble woman. Can't you make an exception for me?'

You don't fall for her sweet smile. You are on duty. Not even Venus herself could distract you. Well, maybe a little bit.

"Your choice. Here, or at the gate in front of even more legionaries. Like everyone else."

That last part makes her glare at you. You won this round.

Not waiting for a response, you gesture for your men to search the woman's belongings. Your Imperial legate has more than enough enemies in Rome to be cautious of. And you don't want him to end up dead inside his own camp. Even if she is allegedly Aelius' wife.

Quintus nods in your direction after going through her belongings, signaling that everything is alright.

"We will accompany you on your way to the camp. We are on our way back, anyway."

You turn around without looking at Sana again. A signal for your men to get into formation.

It feels like she stares at your back for a second longer, before you hear the door close behind you. You don't like the Roman nobility. At all. There is only one man you are willing to follow.

After two more hours of marching, your century and the noblewoman's entourage finally reach the camp's gate.

"The village, where the senior officers are staying, is right behind the camp. You can't miss it."

The older woman, who screamed at Titus earlier, still looks at you as if she is holding a grudge.

"I hope you enjoy your stay in these wonderful lands, lady."

You raise your voice a little, making sure that Sana can hear you. It drips with sarcasm and you can hear Quintus chuckle behind you.

"Vale."

With a dismissive wave of your hand, you walk past the old servant. Her shock at your rudeness visible on her face.

Already making your way past the guards, you can't hear Sana's scoff.

Who are you to talk to her like that? If she is gonna tell her husband about this, you are going to be in trouble for sure.

Sana will never be able to get used to this. She was able to decide that, immediately after she stepped out of her carriage. It took her only a couple of steps to enter the small house her husband is living in right now. But that was enough for her already.

Nothing here looks like Rome. Even the legionaries look out of place. And their shouts and the sounds of shields and stuff isn't what she hears when she is home. Sana is already missing the comfortable house with the atrium. She likes to bathe in the sun throughout the day, while sipping on a really good wine.

"You're late."

Lucius doesn't even look up from his small table as he hears his wife coming in.

"That's how you great me after a year?"

"You know how I value punctuality."

"Out of my hands. Some centurion insisted on searching my luggage. He was really rude."

Now Lucius is looking at her. Sana knows that he can't stand someone disrespecting him. And when she gets disrespected, it goes deeper. He is affected as well.

"Who?"

She can see his eyes becoming a little darker. He bites his lip, maybe trying to prevent himself from shouting.

"His name is Garius Marius. I think?"

"That son of a whore. How does a slave dare to stop you?"

Now, Sana feels shame run down her spine. If she knew that he was born a slave, she would've hit him for talking to her like that. No matter his rank, he is and will always be beneath her. Once a slave, always a slave.

"I swear to Jupiter. One day in battle, I will..."

Lucius takes a deep breath, before focusing back on his wife.

"We are eating dinner with the Imperial legate, the leader of these legions tomorrow, and the senior generals. I expect you to impress them."

"I'd be happy to, love."

Sana almost spits out that last word, but Lucius doesn't seem to notice. He sits back down, opening an envelope. She can see how his eyebrows are still furrowed. He won't let this incident pass without consequences.

Sana eventually leaves the house to explore the small town and it's market. Despite being married to Lucius, she can't stay around him for too long. She is only his wife, because of his money and connections. As soon as she can find someone better...

Sana feels a little dizzy as she steps out of the big house. Lucius told her to be on her best behavior. But that idiot was behaving the worst throughout the dinner.

She hated how calm and reserved the other centurion was, the man who stopped her. He was the lowest ranking soldier and yet, everyone listened to his advice and thoughts about future and past battles. And how is he on a first name basis with the imperial legate? And why is Lucius too incapable to enjoy the same treatment? How can he do worse than a slave?

Sana holds onto the wall, standing right next to the entrance. Suddenly, two men walk out the door. They don't see her because it's dark. She tries to find out who they are. The first one is a little taller, while the second has broader shoulders and looks more muscular.

"We can't do this forever, Gaius. We need a plan to wipe him out. I expect you to help me with that."

"Of course, Gaius."

Sana almost groans in annoyance. Of course it's that Gaius Marius. And the other one is the Imperial legate. Gaius Julius Caesar.

"Rome is an empire. We will defeat Vercingetorix sooner rather than later. His supporters will crumble soon."

"You did a good job today, centurion. You've proven once again, why you rightfully carry the name I gave you. Gaius Marius Antonius."

Sana assumes they are talking about some barbarian leader. But Caesar gave him that cognomen? She can't help but wonder what he must've done to be called "priceless".

"You know the political situation in Rome. The more time I waste conquering Gaul, the more powerful my enemies become."

"I swear to Mars. I will cut down anyone who tries to oppose you, Gaius."

She sees Caesar put a hand on the centurion's shoulder.

"It's only a matter of time, until you will be one of the Tribuni angusticlavii, leading the tenth legion into battle. And I will make sure, you will eventually become a rich senator."

Sana has heard enough. It's so disgusting to her. A slave becoming a senator. She is working so hard to become the most powerful woman in Rome. And with that in the whole empire. How can that lowlife become something better than she herself? Sana either needs to push Lucius further up the ranks, or she needs to find someone, who can match Marius' new found status.

Sana groans in relief, when she can finally leave the small village. It's not like someone forbid her to leave, but there just wasn't something to do in and outside the village. What was she gonna do in a forest? A very dangerous one at that?

But now, she heard of a big market place around two hours away. Sana is still looking to buy some oils and pottery. She could do that in Rome of course, but she is hoping to find them cheaper in their land of origin.

Looking out of her carriage, Sana leaves behind the village and the big camp right next to it. The constant noise made her head spin. Not that Rome isn't loud, but this is something else.

After about an hour, Sana hears a troop of men marching in front of her. She became familiar with that sound after a few days. She doesn't look outside, despite being curious. Why would a century be here? The battles would take place in the opposite direction. Right?

Sana hears how the carriage passes the back of the century. The heavy steps of the legionaries kick up some dust. Her old servant looks outside, curious herself.

"It's him again."

The older woman grimaces, before letting the curtain drop back into place.

"Who?"

"The man who stopped us a couple of days ago."

Sana's attention is now on the men outside. She remembers the conversation you had with Caesar.

"Really?"

She pretends to be cold, not wanting to get caught. After having seen you around a couple of times, the young noble woman is unsure on how to feel about you.

Yes, you are a former slave. A peasant. But you are also a great centurion. A trusted man to Julius Caesar.

Despite being not the highest ranking officer, Sana did notice how the other men look at you. She catches an occasional whisper of your brave actions in battle. She sees the men greet you with almost too much respect. Even the other centurions seem to want to be on your good side.

Maybe that's what Sana has to do too. In order to further climb up the ladder. It is risky. And it's still a long time in the future. But if Caesar can really make his ambitions reality, you will be one of the first people who benefit from it. And if Sana plays her cards well, she can benefit too.

For a moment, she wonders what a man like you would need. Something she could have to bargain with. Money? You probably earn quite a lot already. Especially compared to your earlier environment. Land? You will get that too, if you stay long enough in the army. A wife? You are a soldier. You are not allowed to be married.

As Sana is still pondering on what to do to convince you to help her gain more power, she gets closer towards the front of the century.

And it's not like she doesn't have influence. She could maybe even get you a promotion into the first cohort. Of course without her husband finding out.

Sana draws back the curtain a little with only one finger. Just a few meters ahead, she can see you walking.

Your helmet is decorated by a big crest of red horse hair. The back of the helmet and the rest of your armor shimmer in the light of the sun. She remembers your first encounter. Your armor was full with blood, indicating that you were more than able to fight a battle.

You turn around as you hear horses behind you. It wouldn't have been a surprise. One of the auxilia officers could be taking his men out to train.

Surprised at the sight of the carriage, you catch a glimpse of the passenger. Her eyes meet yours, a big golden ring decorates the finger that holds back the curtain. You could swear you see a small hint of a smile play around her lips.

"Salve."

You great her by hitting your armored chest with your fist. Not because you like her, but out of politeness.

"Salve, centurion."

Her passive aggressive mentioning of your rank indicates that she is still not over that incident a couple of days ago.

"Are you visiting the market?"

"I am. I suppose you are not here to buy pottery?"

A mocking smile replaces the earlier one.

"It may sound unbelievable, but I'm not."

A cute chuckle escapes her mouth.

"Well, I hope you enjoy this beautiful day."

Is she still mocking you, because you are on duty? You are not sure, but you can see her lazily wave goodbye as the carriage drives past you.

"Don't get too close to her. She is only gonna be trouble."

You look at Quintus.

"I'm merely being polite. I don't need trouble with angry nobles. At least not now."

"By Jupiter. One might think you've become a responsible, grown man now."

"Fuck off."

You raise your hand, but Quintus ducks away, avoiding a potential slap.

Only listening with one ear to the conversation next to you, you scan the market for the young noble woman. Despite her attitude and the fact that she is married, you can't help but glance at her occasionally. Plus, the market isn't as safe as it might seem. Cunning merchants, thiefs and rebels might roam the place, ready to strike at any moment. And being a beautiful Roman woman makes her one of the most desirable targets right now.

"Listen, Roman! I barely sell anything! How do you expect me to pay your unreasonable taxes?!"

"Shut it."

You turn back to the stall holder. Titus' and his conversation got heated.

"We are not hear to argue. We are here to collect taxes."

The man grits his teeth.

"I'm telling you! I don't have anything to give away!"

The other people around you look at the scene, before walking past. Only you and a couple of legionaries are here. The rest of your century is patrolling another village nearby and the rest of the market, making sure you are not getting ambushed.

"Don't scream at me, old man. Pay up."

"I don't have a fucking coin!"

You know he is lying. You saw someone buy his fabric from a far as you entered the marketplace. And, judging by the money bag he held earlier, it wasn't cheap at all.

"We can do this the easy way, or the heard way."

You take a step forward, towering above him.

"But the hard way won't end well for you."

"I already told you, I-"

You let your head fall back in annoyance. Collecting taxes is a necessity. Not something to be proud of. It's not as honorable as fighting in battle.

"Do you really want to go this far?"

You look down at him again, your hand now resting on the pommel of your gladius.

He caught the movement of your hand, worry creeping onto his features.

"What is it gonna be? Your life? Or coin?"

The old man is not stupid. And a couple of moments later, you walk away from his stall. The tinkle behind you indicates, that Titus is adding the silver denarii into the bag with the rest of the already collected money.

"Are you trying to rob me, old man? You are a con artist!"

Women screaming at a merchant are as common as clouds under the sky, so you don't pay much attention to it as you hear someone scream.

"How can you demand so much for this lousy work?"

You keep walking, although you kinda feel, like you heard this voice before. It sounds oddly familiar.

"By Bellona! I'm going to have you beaten for your rudeness!"

And there it is. With an annoyed groan, you immediately recognize, who is disturbing the rather peaceful market.

If she was a common local woman, you would've kept walking. The Galli could solve their own disputes.

But Sana is, as unfortunate as it is, not a local. She is a Roman woman. A member of the elite even.

You take a deep breath, before walking towards her screams. You can already guess whom she is screaming at.

"Keep going."

You tell Titus over your shoulder, as you approach her from behind. Her servant must have stayed with the carriage, because Sana is standing in front of the stall of the potter all alone.

Before the young woman can scream another word, you grab her arm.

"What-"

You spin her around and walk away, pulling her with you.

"What do you think you are doing?!"

"Silence."

You didn't say it in a loud voice, but your tone makes her go silent.

After a couple of meters, you stop, turning around to look at her.

"You're welcome."

"Excuse you?"

Her hands now rest on her hips. You can't help but catch how slender her waist seems to be.

"I just saved you from embarrassing yourself even further. You owe me."

You turn away, ready to reunite with Titus and your men.

"What the-"

It's now Sana's turn to grab your arm, stopping you from leaving.

"I don't owe you shit."

"Really?"

You turn to look at her again.

"Your temper is as bad as your observation skills. Minerva would strike you down for your utter incompetence."

You said the words, before you thought about them. You are aggravated. Because of the merchant earlier, because of her causing a scene, because of Lucius (as always) and because of her being his wife. Alright, maybe that last one was a little jealousy.

"How dare you? You are some rude-"

You stop her from saying another word by grabbing her shoulders and spinning her around.

"Look. Look and tell me what you see."

"What are you talking about?"

You see her frowning. An act that makes her beautiful face a little less flawless.

"Tell me what's going on."

You realize you are using the same tone as with the men during training. Harsh, straight forward, a little condescending. But not rude. Just factual.

"The merchant is still selling his stupidly expensive pottery."

You don't answer, waiting for more.

Sana, visibly annoyed, struggles against your grip for a moment, before giving in. You are a seasoned legionnaire. There is no way she is gonna get out of your hold on her.

"There are a couple of women and men who browse his items."

"Keep going."

"Someone is buying a bowl and an amphora."

"What is the woman on the right doing?"

"She is paying for her stuff. What-"

"Can you see how much she is paying?"

"Way too much for a stupid-"

"Do you see any of the locals complaining?"

Sana hesitantly shakes her head.

"Do you know the reason?"

"Because they are stupid. In Rome it's cheap-"

"We aren't in Rome, woman. This is Gaul."

You stand behind her, both of you silent for a couple of moments. You give her time to think about the possible reason. Although she is probably just complaining about you to the gods in silence.

"They all pay the price he demands, because he and his work are respected here."

"But they look-"

"Yeah. Some of his pieces aren't pretty."

You admit that.

"But he is an old man. His hands aren't as good as they used to be. He is obviously regarded with a decent amount of respect."

You gesture for Sana to look around the market.

"Most of the people here bargain over every single item. Food, cloth, tools and even pottery."

You turn her back towards the old man's stall.

"But not there. They respect him too much to try to get a better price. His work might not be the very best anymore, but his skill is known by everyone here."

Sana groans in annoyance and anger as she sees you coming out of the biggest tent of the camp. A week has gone by, since you treated her like a child at the market. Her blood still boils, whenever she sees you from a far.

She decided against telling her husband, not wanting to cause unnecessary friction. And if you have the favor of Caesar, it might be a bad idea to egg on her husband.

And Sana is still debating on your ability to help her seize more power. She is ready to do anything to get to the top. Even if it means working together with someone as low born as you.

Sana stops in her tracks as she sees her husband walk towards you.

"Aelius."

You don't greet him like any other lower ranking centurion would. The young woman can feel the tension between the two men, despite standing barely in earshot.

"Marius."

His face shows a disapproving twitch.

"It seems like we are catching up to Vercingetorix. I hope you don't make any mistakes in battle. I would hate to lose a lower ranking officer."

You click your tongue, taking a step forward.

With the two of you standing right in front of each other, Sana realizes that you are bigger than her husband. Not just in statue, but also in the way you carry yourself. With slightly less arrogance and more discipline.

"Don't worry about me, Aelius. As you know, I always make sure my men are taken care off."

Sana feels a shiver run down her spine. She heard more than enough stories about the battles of the tenth legion since she joined her husband. The amount of times that you were mentioned in one of them was noticeably high.

The young woman heard of a battle two summers ago. You weren't a centurion at the time. Merely a soldier of the second cohort. But in battle, your centurion chose to let his men die, while he stayed behind, watching his century getting slaughtered. After half of the eighty men were dead, you walked straight towards the cowardly centurion. A nobleman, which the storyteller didn't fail to mention with a hint of disgust. Your gladius seperated his head from his shoulders in one swift motion and you took command of the second century until the end of the battle. Caesar honored your bravery and agreed with your actions. Instead of getting executed, you got promoted.

"Are you implying I'm not leading my men well?"

Sana hears you chuckle.

"News travel fast among the younger men, Aelius."

"Maybe you should discipline your soldiers like I do. Your century is a disgrace to the tenth legion."

"Nugas garris. You are pathetic."

You walk off, leaving him behind.

Sana almost expects her husband to draw his gladius. How can you call him a disgrace? And idiot? He is higher ranking than you and he is a member of the elite.

But Aelius just watches you leave, before entering the tent you just came out of.

That short interaction reminds Sana of the power you actually hold. You might not be the highest officer, but almost the whole legion treats you as such. If it wasn't for your low birth, you might have been able to be the centurion of the first century of the first cohort.

Sana's decision is slowly forming in her mind. A plan to gain more power than she has right now. Siding with you might be risky. But the rewards could be great.

Sana glances at you from across the room as you stare at Caesar, who is currently talking. She is still not quite sure what she can offer you to make you join her side. But when the leader of the legion mentions the nobility in his speech, she sees your expression change for just a second. It is obvious that you hate all the wealthy and arrogant men and women. Maybe Sana can offer you something to get back at them. Or at least get back at Aelius.

"And that's why the tenth legion outshines any other. Your bravery and honor are praised throughout the whole empire. Rome is grateful for what you have done. And the gods smile down at the men, who give their lifes to the republic."

Caesar ends his speech. And with that, the long meal is finally over. It is night time already. Only the moon and the stars still shine.

You walk out of the large tent, ready to sleep. It has been a long day and there is no doubt that you will be fighting soon. Caesar's promise to promote you to such a high position still rings in your ears. You can't believe you've come this far.

"Gaius."

Her sweet voice makes you stop in front of your tent. She doesn't sound as angry as she usually does.

"Yes?"

You turn around, standing face to face with Sana.

"I'm here to ask you for something."

You look at her, waiting for an explanation.

"I heard that you are the bravest and most powerful man in this legion. At least unofficially."

You raise an eyebrow.

"Where is all of this honey suddenly coming from?"

Sana gives you a melodic chuckle. Only now do you realize how close she is standing. Her oils make you breath in the flowery air that surrounds her.

"I want to strike a deal with you."

"What would you want from such a low ranking officer like me?"

Your sarcasm makes it hard for Sana to not lash out. Just because she needs you, doesn't mean that she likes you.

"As far as I've heard, you won't be a low ranking officer for long."

"Is that so?"

You cross your arms in front of your chest.

"Well, it's actually quite simple. You have something I want. And I have something you want."

"I highly doubt that."

You watch Sana turn her head left and right, making sure that no one is around.

"There is a always something a man wants from a woman."

You are surprised at what she is suggesting.

"Judging by the look on your face, I can comfortably say that I'm right."

You shake your head, which seems harder than usual.

"Have you never thought about having your way with me? A noble woman?"

She takes another step closer. Now, Sana's sandals are touching yours.

"A married one at that? I bet you would love to destroy my husband. This could be your first step to success."

You narrow your eyes, still unsure of what to do. You've never been in this kind of situation. Is she making fun of you? Did Aelius put her up to this, setting a trap for you? Or is she genuine?

"What would you get in return?"

"Your power. Your influence. I can't live, knowing that another person might have more power than I do. I need to be at the top of the republic."

"And you think, I can get you there?"

Sana nods.

"With my support? Definitely."

She looks at you, waiting for a response.

You are still torn. She has a nice body, yes. But you're not fond of her attitude. She is a noble woman. And she is married. Getting caught would have serious consequences. For the both of you.

But the chance to use her? A noble woman? Fucking her, while her husband is only sleeping a couple of tents away? More than just tempting.

You look around the camp yourself. No one in sight.

"Get in."

A victorious smile forms on her lips. As she walks past you, she lets her finger glide over your armoured chest.

You follow her immediately after.

"Now that we have come to an agreement, I-"

You push Sana forward, bending her over the wooden table.

"What-"

You don't give her time to speak. If you're going to do this, you're going to do this quickly.

Hiking up her red stola, you reach underneath her tunic. The smoothness of her legs makes you hard as you reach between them.

"It seems like you are enjoying this more than I expected."

Your fingers graze her lower lips. She is not just a little wet.

"Hey, I didn't give you permission to-"

You shut Sana up by covering her mouth with your other hand.

"I don't need you permission. I'm going to ruin you anyway."

Her gasp is muffled by your hand as you push your first finger inside.

You haven't slept with a lot of women, the army being mainly responsible for that. Nonetheless, you do know how to pleasure a woman.

Sana's moan escapes between your fingers as your digits slide along her wet walls. Her pussy is already gripping them tightly.

If it weren't for your hand, her head would've sunk onto the table already. But you are holding her in place, which ultimately makes her arch her back.

She tries to say something, but your grip on her mouth makes it impossible for her to speak properly.

You are surprised at how wet Sana is.

"Was your desire for power just an excuse? Do you just want me to fuck you?"

She tries to shake her head. You don't let her.

"Do you get off, knowing that a lower born man is fucking you?"

Sana is unable to respond, when you let go off her face. Her whole upper body is now lying on top of the table. You drop your belt and hike her clothes up a little further.

"Don't get confused. I still don't like you."

Sana's growl doesn't sound very convincing with your fingers inside of her.

"Might be true. But you aren't married to Aelius because of his personality anyways."

Pulling your fingers out of her core makes Sana moan loudly. She blushes in shame. Doubt starting to rise inside of her. Is she really only doing this to team up with you?

"You only seem to care for power."

"So? Only a coward wouldn't want power."

You shut her up by letting your tip graze against her lips. Sana hisses through her teeth, unwilling to moan again.

"I'm just curious about how far you would be willing to go. How dedicated you are to this cause."

"Don't worry. I'm ready to do anything."

"Anything?"

You raise an eyebrow, which Sana can't see.

"Anything."

"That's reassuring."

Your nonchalant tone makes Sana shiver.

Finally, you push inside of her.

"Fuck, woman."

You can't help but marvel at how tight she actually is.

"Fuck me already."

It's a mixture of plea and demand.

With one hand you grab her hair, pushing her cheek against the wooden surface. Your other hand holds her waist.

Another moan escapes Sana's lips as you thrust forward. Before she can react, you pull back and push inside of her again.

After just a couple of seconds, you start to fuck her hard. The table rocks back and forth with every thrust. Her moans escape her lips, whenever you bottom out inside of her.

"Harder!"

Sana holds onto the edge of the table, her knuckles slowly starting to turn white.

Because you keep pushing her upwards with your thrusts, the young woman's feet eventually dangle in the air.

You are now able to fuck her even deeper. Her moans become louder when she feels your cock invading her pussy even further.

At this point, Sana is merely a hole for you to fuck. She doesn't move. Only your thrusts rock her body back and forth. The thin material of her clothes makes Sana's nipples rub against the wooden surface. They've become hard due to her arousal and are now adding to the pleasure she is already feeling.

"So good!"

She moans yet again. You suddenly realize, that this isn't really a save place to be this loud.

"Shut up."

You growl into her ear, trying to quiet her.

But Sana can't help it. She has already lost control over her body. Your cock is parting her walls again and again, making her clench around it tightly.

She is even unable to produce a disappointed whine, when you stop fucking her. You leaver her snug pussy, before getting her off your table.

Turning her around, you push Sana against the wooden post, which is holding up the roof of your tent. Reaching for your belt, you hold her arms up, before tying them together.

Sana is now unable to leave. You pick up her light frame, making her impale herself on your cock.

"By Bellona! Fuck!"

"I told you to stay quiet."

Your faces are barely an inch apart.

Because you push her body against the post, you are able to lift her up with only your left hand. Your right one moves upwards to wrap its fingers around her throat.

"One more word..."

You let the threat of unknown punishment linger in the air for a moment.

But you can't hold yourself back for long. Sana's pussy drips her juices onto your cock, coaxing you into resuming your pounding.

A whimper escapes her mouth, when you start to fuck her again. You can tell she is at least trying to stay quiet this time. While you make her bounce on your cock, you thrust upwards. It makes her eyes roll back, whenever she feels your cock pushing against her guts.

"Venus!"

A louder sigh escapes her mouth yet again. You close your fingers around her throat a little further.

"Behave."

The conflict in Sana's eyes amuses you.

She should be the one in charge. She is the noble one of the two of you after all. But here she is, bound to your post, your hand around her throat as you fuck her as hard as you can.

Sana tries to fight the belt, wanting to tell you that you have to choke her harder. She can't keep quiet when you fuck her like this.

Another moan escapes her lips and you tighten your grip yet again.

"I warned you."

You hiss into her face.

Sana's wide eyes look beautiful. The way she stares at you, begging you to fuck her harder, while she tries her best not to make any noise.

But she fails miserably. A loud sigh echoes through the tent.

Without a word, you reach upwards. The sound of metal on metal cuts through the night as you pull your pugio out of its sheath. You let Sana get a good look at it. Then, you slowly part her lips with its blade.

"If you don't want to hurt your pretty face..."

You don't continue your sentence once more. But Sana is well aware of the risks.

With your dagger in her mouth, Sana has to pull back her lips, while simultaneously biting onto the blade, to make sure it doesn't fall or hurt her.

You see her closing her eyes as you keep fucking her. She is now really quiet, focused on keeping your pugio in place.

"Finally. Your voice so annoying."

Sana blushes in shame, able to see your honesty in your eyes.

"At least you have a nice body. I could fuck you every day."

The young woman almost lets out another moan. She really has to hold herself back. This was the first time someone reduced her to nothing but a wet hole to fuck. She didn't expect it to feel this good.

You suddenly hear footsteps outside. You stop moving, almost making Sana whine in disappointment, but then she hears it too. The two of you hold your breath. Neither of you wanting to get caught.

As the footsteps disappear into the night, you resume your fucking.

You make Sana bounce up and down on your cock. She glides along its full length. Whenever you impale her on it, Sana's eyes shoot wide open. She would scream if it wasn't for the dagger between her teeth.

"I'm gonna cum."

You hiss into her face, unable to hold back longer. Her tight pussy has been working on draining your cock this whole time. It feels perfect, almost too good to pull out. But cuming inside is obviously not an option.

You put Sana back onto her own two feet, taking the knife out of her mouth. Undoing your belt, you free her arms. Sana drops to her knees, opening her mouth. You catch a couple drops of blood on the corners of her mouth, before she wraps her lips around your cock.

Your pugio falls out of your hand and you take a fistful of her beautiful hair. Her eyes look up at you, telling you to finish inside her mouth. Her tongue glides over every inch of your cock it can find, while her lips are tightly sealed around it.

"Sana."

You manage to groan her name, before you unload inside her mouth. You feel dizzy, having to close your eyes for a moment.

When you open them again, you see Sana gulping down your cum.

"How often do we need to do this, so that we have a deal?"

"I think you know the answer."

It's so dark that Sana's face is barely lit by the torch outside. You could swear a small smile plays around her lips though.

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #twice sana #twice #sana minatozaki #sana twice #sana smut #sana #twice smut

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mistydeyes · 1 year

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Hi izzie,can you write what it would be like if one of soaps cousins that’s in SAS but often has time to visit the base and is dating 141 members

fem reader preferably

thank you so much for submitting! so sorry it took a hot minute for me to get to this but i hope you enjoy!

the invasion of the scots

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summary: As you walked into the briefing for your latest co-op mission with Task Force 141, all eyes were on you. Usually, this wasn't out of the ordinary as you were one of the first women to complete the full selection process for the SAS and your reputation preceded you. However, this was different as your gaze shifted from your surprised cousin and your terrified boyfriend.

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader (codename: Peitho)

warnings: SWEARING

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"I'll see you all tomorrow at 08:00 for a briefing," Price announced as everyone exited the training room, "we might see some familiar faces, the SAS is loaning us some of their best." As they all walked to the showers, Soap just happened to be walking with the exhausted Ghost. "Have a cousin in the SAS wonder if she'll be there!" he hummed happily, "haven't seen her in ages." Simon nodded and hoped his suspicions would be wrong tomorrow. He turned on the shower and sat under the cold water for a moment. Out of the handful of women that was in the SAS, the chances of it being you were slim but never 0.

"Hey Peitho, are you ready to meet the renowned 141?" your friend joked as you exited your vehicle. "Just another room of sweaty men, it's like a basic Tuesday for me," you replied and jokingly punched his arm. "But you only hear whispers about these guys, no one doesn't even know how many of them there are." "I'll take my chances, Haystack," you muttered and you continued to follow your captain to the briefing room. As you walked through the linoleum hallways, you could feel the stares everyone was giving you. "Jesus, it's like they've never seen a woman before," you scoffed and Haystack turned to you. "It's not every day someone sees a legend like you." You smiled slightly at his compliment. It had been a few years since your big accomplishment. You and another woman had been the first to ever complete the full selection process. It was daunting to experience the grueling exercises and jeers of the other men but you would smile and take what was thrown at you. "I thought this was selection not a training run for Royal Navy," you'd spit and everyone backed off.

"Play nice," your captain warned before entering the door. You followed right behind him and walked to his right. "As promised Price, here's the best of the best," he announced as he gestured to the four of you. "Here we have, Buccaneer," everyone's gaze turned to the stoic man who stood at 6'7'', his dark hands and arms glistened with taupe-colored, healed scars. "Next there's Typhoon," and again, everyone's eyes shifted to the man who stood shorter than Buccaneer but whose body was pure muscle. He gave a small wave, followed by a crazed smirk. "Next, there's Haystack," your close friend walked forward as his pale skin and bleached hair practically blended into the wall, "got the reputation of being dead weight but he'll be the best combat medic you'll ever need." "Finally," you knew it was your turn and you stood forward, slightly.

You took a look around the room and noticed the men looking back up at you and their files. However, as your eyes drifted to the left, you could feel your eyes widen with recognition. There sat your cousin, you knew he was in the British Army but didn't realize he rose to this caliber. He had a slight smile on his face as he looked at you. However, your familial reunion would have to wait as you looked over at the broad man wearing a face mask. Although his face was obscured, you would recognize his figure and eyes anywhere. In fact, it was the one that was on top of you in bed a month ago. You swallowed as you both locked eyes. Why the fuck was Simon Riley here?

Your revelations were disrupted as your Captain continued his introductions. "We have, Peitho, one of the best women to ever make it out of selection. Don't even try anything with that one, she'll take you out before you can even utter a word," he joked and you nodded at his statement. "I assume you've all seen what they can do, I've given you our best hijacker, weapon specialist, combat medic, and covert operations specialist," he concluded and the floor was all Price's. "Thank you, Captain, they'll do great," he said confidently and the room boomed with his voice, "they can get to know my men on the plane." At this, everyone took a seat. You sat on the opposite end of Simon and Johnny, but you could feel their eyes on you. "Now for the debrief," Price directed and dimmed the lights to illuminate the large monitor on the display.

"I expect you all to review the floor plans our intel has provided," he directed as Sergeant Garrick yawned, "we will be leaving at 06:00 in two days." "Happy reading," Haystack commented as you both walked towards the exit. Before you could leave, Johnny placed a strong arm around your shoulders. "Y/N!" he exclaimed, "Haven't seen you in ages." You smiled up at him and reached a hand to ruffle his short, dark hair. "Pleasure seeing you again," you replied, "you're far from the lad who went to those raves." You both shared a smile as you caught up and exchanged some stories from the last few years. "Your mam said you were in the SAS, but I didn't know you were the one who completed the selection," he continued. "Told her not to brag," you replied, remembering how talkative your mother was especially when it came to her only daughter. Before you could continue, you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You both turned and realized you were blocking the exit for Simon.

"Sorry about that, Simon," you said, almost instinctively. As the words tumbled out of your mouth, you realized the mistake you had made. "Simon?" Johnny questioned and you both knew you were doomed, "Y/N, how do you know Lt?" Fuck. Me. you thought internally as Simon's eyes shot to yours in a panic. "Um, some out-of-office relations," you choked out and before Simon could exit, Johnny grabbed his arm. "You fucking bastard," he muttered, "so this is where you've been spending your leave?" The situation was escalating as Simon escaped his grasp and crossed his arms over his chest. "My personal life is none of your business, Sergeant," he commanded and Johnny balled his hands into tight fists. "It does when it's my cousin!" he practically shouted and you hoped no one could hear the commotion.

"Johnny, calm down," you directed, "I had no idea, Simon even worked with you. It's only been 6 months since we met." Before anyone could continue, Captain Price stopped in the doorway. "Hey!" he boomed, "we have a mission in 36 hours, get on it." You all nodded like scolded children and began to make your way back to your quarters. Before you could part, you gave Simon a quick hug and turned to Johnny. He still had the same angered look on his face and you rolled your eyes. "Get over it, little Johnny boy," you teased at his childhood nickname and he looked away. "Fine, but you know there are serious implications of pumpin' a superior," he mumbled. He walked off and you looked back at Simon. "Surprise, love?" you said almost questioningly before Simon led you to his quarters to “review” the floor plans.

As you sat wedged between Simon and Johnny, you were getting to know Sergeant Garrick or Gaz as he preferred. "So Pietho like the Greek goddess?" he asked and you nodded. "Goddess of persuasion and seduction," you smiled before Simon hit your thigh lightly. "I think I'm gonna be sick," Johnny moaned and Gaz just looked even more confused.

#cod mwii #mw2 imagine #task force 141 #mw2 #simon ghost riley #call of duty #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley angst #madebyizzie #task force 141 x reader #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #izzie is writing

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harrietvane · 1 year

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A thought about the John Wick universe rattling around my head like a bean in a jar:

Everyone who meets john wick is in some ways immediately in love with him. Every movie introduces new characters who greet this isolated, self-contained man (who barely says a word) with gentle joy at their reunion, even if - especially if - they’re there to kill him. Immediate loyalty and affection. Oh John I was so sorry to hear about your recent loss. Even sorrier to have to kill you. No one regrets more than I due to the love and loyalty I bear you. Please, how might I assist you, just say the word. Let me break all the rules just to lay my cloak at your feet. It will blow my entire life up irrevocably to help you - but you do need help and we go way back and you’re looking at me with your big brown eyes, so like I will definitely do that for you baby. More than one enemy pauses mid-fight to allow him a respectful breather, just thrilled to do so. All this while the movie denies us ANY FLASHBACKS AT ALL to his previous encounters with any of these people. Closest we get is the pencil anecdote? I think? A veil has been delicately drawn over his past that inspired such devotion, but as a viewer you are 100% convinced the love is REAL. They do go way back and it must have been quite a time. Even ‘antagonists’ who hold the role of smug pre-dead guy are all ‘oh John you’re just so gosh darn impressive, I tell all my friends about how great you are, genuinely honoured to be murdered by you’. And you know what, that’s fair.

#john wick #is excommunicado except he isn’t bc of the big brown eyes as far as everyone is concerned #they are correct #text post shenanigans

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alottiegoingon · 4 months

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hc! on the sunny side of the street

jackie taylor x fem!reader

summary: jackie taylor has a massive crush on you.

warnings: jackie not being subtle at all, reader is a yellowjacket, pure fluff, not proofread

୨୧ jackie was on the sunny side of the street every time you were near and she was very obvious about that.

୨୧ you joined the team last year and, at first, you were frightened of her. judging the book by its cover, jackie fulfilled every requirement to be a successful and typical mean girl; silky and shiny hair, extremely popular, team captain and a huge collection of admirers.

୨୧ it took you half a second to alter the perception you had of her when you joined her in the locker room after the short reunion you had with coach martinez. jackie was so energetic and excited to welcome you in, with an inviting smile and arms enthusiastically pulling you closer to a warm embrace. the sweet perfume of her lingered on your mind for days.

୨୧ on your first day as a yellowjacket, most of the girls were receptive and patient and ready to help you in whatever you needed.

୨୧ “okay, everyone. let’s give her some space!” jackie used her bossy team captain voice to disperse the crowd of curious people around you. at the second the other girls backed off just enough, she grabbed your arm and started to gush about a new party that was happening on friday night, inviting you to go with her.

୨୧ jackie didn’t want to give you some space. that girl wanted you to give you a space from the others!

୨୧ remember that jackie wasn’t subtle at all? well.

୨୧ during practice, van failed it to stop the ball a few times and even though it was no big deal, jackie got furious.

୨୧ “if we can’t even catch a ball, maybe we shouldn’t even bother to try for the nationals!” she lectured the team with arms folded across her chest and flushed cheeks for running too much.

୨୧ “it was just a mistake, jackie. relax!” taissa is the first one to defend her girlfriend, never afraid of going against jackie.

୨୧ “a mistake that could cost us a lot!”

୨୧ but then, the moment you literally tripped over the ball with your big ass feet and fell on your face, jackie was all over you with concerned eyes and tender touches on your arms to help you up.

୨୧ “are you serious? she sucks.” mari scoffs, rolling her eyes. a few of the girls were covering their faces with their hands to hide a laugh.

୨୧ “don’t say that. it was just a mistake! everyone makes mistakes sometimes.” jackie snarled at mari and decided to ignore the multiple death stares at her when she ignored your beginner mistake just to yell at van for something harder than just chase a ball.

୨୧ “you have to be fucking kidding me.” tai sighs.

୨୧ the very next day during practice, everyone was warming up and getting ready when jackie came in. hair flawlessly soft with a yellow ribbon adorning it.

୨୧ “attention, everyone! the nationals are coming, as all of you may know, and i thought it was a great idea to work on our speed. so…” she smiles proudly, hands forming a cup to hold a few pieces of paper. “i’ll randomly select a few people every day to run around the field for five minutes.”

୨୧ at the speed of light, all of the girls began to protest and call jackie a crazy girl. it was a lot, actually. the field was huge and if you were a panting mess after a simple practice, you would be dead after running for five minutes.

୨୧ “come on, yellowjackets. don’t you wanna win the big game?” she tries to encourage them with a forced smile, while disregarding the discontent comments.

୨୧ knowing that neither of you had a say on this, the silence settled in when jackie began to choose people and you were praying to all of the gods to not be chosen.

୨୧ “and the first one is…” she holds a small piece of paper in the air and reads the name written on it. “mari!”

୨୧ “are you serious? that’s not random, i saw you looking at it! i wanna see the it.” mari defends herself and jackie pull her hands back to her chest, protecting the papers like it was something worth of dying for.

୨୧ jackie knew damn well why she couldn’t show the papers. she spent a few minutes of her night yesterday writing only mari’s name on a sheet of paper. she could just pick someone else who was bothering you later tomorrow, she thought.

୨୧ “jackie, this is cruel. you’re just mad at her cause she said something about your precious girlfriend.” nat stands up this time, visibly annoyed.

୨୧ “and the second chosen one is natalie” jackie looks straight at the blondie, not even bothering to look at the names in her hands and act surprised. “have fun.”

୨୧ she was definitely favoring you and you were worried that everyone would hate you for that.

୨୧ if jackie wasn’t defending you from the girls passive aggressive comments, she was glued by your side like a god damn guardian dog.

୨୧ “good job today. you look so pretty.” says jackie after you missed the ball twice, kicked shauna’s leg by accident, almost lost balance when nat accidentally bumped into you and your hair was wildly all over the place. ignoring all of that, she definitely made you blush.

୨୧ it was quite a performance, an adorable and smart one. she would bat eyelashes, twirling her hair around her finger like in those cliche movies and acting all giggly and foolishly before saying goodbye.

୨୧ shauna would always give jackie a ride home and at the moment she got into the car, shauna was looking at her like 🤨 “what the fuck was all that about?”

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #jackie taylor #jackie taylor x reader

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livwritesstuff · 6 months

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Tommy POV, wc: 2890, full version on ao3

Tommy Hagan is not jealous of Eddie Munson.

He’s not.

There’s nothing to be jealous of, in his opinion, and Tommy probably wouldn’t be thinking about him at all if Eddie wasn’t the most publicly well known member of his graduating class – well, he hadn’t actually been in his graduating class, Tommy supposes.

They had been seniors at the same time, though.

If Tommy happened to be jealous of anything – and that’s a big if – it would probably have something to do with the famous thing. Everyone has a small part of them that wants to be famous at least in some capacity, he’s pretty sure, even if Eddie isn’t really, truly famous – not like the red carpet celebrities. He’s a writer. Even the most well known writers never get all that much attention, but Munson has his own Wikipedia page, and that’s more than anybody else from Hawkins, Indiana can say. Hawkins itself barely even has a Wikipedia page, and it’s only because of all the atrocities that happened in town in the mid-eighties.

Tommy hadn’t been around for the end of it all – the earthquake-slash-serial killer situation that never made any sense to him. He remembers his mom calling him at his college dorm when the deaths first started. He remembers her asking, “You went to school with that Munson boy, right? Do you think he could do something like this?”

And Tommy had been twenty and a total moron, so he’d said some dumb shit like, “Yeah, he’s into freaky stuff like that. Somebody should’ve put him on a list ages ago,” even though four years of experience told him that Eddie was all bark, no bite. Tommy hadn’t been surprised at all by the statements that later came out clearing Eddie's name, and by then his parents had already high-tailed it out of Hawkins so it all sort of became irrelevant to him.

Tommy never even returned to Hawkins one single time after he left for college (barring his high school reunion, obviously), and twenty years after graduation, he doesn’t really think about those years all that much.

He doesn’t love the person he’d been in high school. He was whiny and immature and had his priorities all messed up. Most of the memories he has of his teenage years, he looks back at and cringes, feels a whole lot of shame and embarrassment, but also some pride at how much he’s grown over the last twenty years. He also knows he’d been kind of a dick in high school, but that he’s less ashamed of. It’s normal, he knows, for kids to be mean, that it’s a standard response to being untreated kindly in other ways. Like, his dad had been an asshole to him as a kid, always on him about his grades and his smart mouth and how he’d no longer been a standout on any of his sports teams after starting high school, and Tommy had coped with that by poking kids beneath him at school.

It’s just the pecking order of high school. It’s normal.

Even now, when Tommy’s son had dealt with some pricks in the year above him shoving him around, he had come home from school and tormented his little sister for a while – it’s normal, no matter how much his wife had tried to convince him it was something that needed addressing. It’s just kids being kids. They grow out of it eventually, just like Tommy had.

Occasionally he wonders where the kids he’d spent all those years with in the Hawkins public school system had ended up, but these days the internet makes that pretty damn easy to figure out.

He’s learned Tina got married and had kids real young. She still lives in Indiana. Carol, who he’d split up with before heading off to college, lives in Alabama now and she’s got kids and a husband too. Jonathan Byers is a photographer in California – Tommy isn’t into all that art-y crap, so he has no clue if he’s any good, but he definitely recognizes some of the organizations he’s worked for and if that’s any indication, Tommy would wager he’s not too shabby. No wife, though, he noted, so he’d either been right about Byer’s being a queer, or women just found him repulsive (admittedly, Tommy leans more towards the former – he’s a photographer). Tammy Thompson still lives in Tennessee, though it doesn’t seem like she does music anymore (husband, kids, blah blah blah).

If he’s honest, the only person Tommy is actually interested in tracking down is Steve Harrington, and he’s the one person Tommy can’t find a single trace of online. No MySpace, no Facebook, no weird blog thing, nothing.

Vaguely, he wonders if Steve might be dead. A truly massive proportion of Hawkins had died over just a few short years in the mid-eighties. Maybe Harrington was one of them.

Tommy doubts it.

He would have known.

Steve’s parents would have made sure everyone knew if their son had died. Funnily enough, Steve’s mom is actually on Facebook, and pretty actively too, but there’s no sign of Steve anywhere on her page.

He hadn’t even shown up for their high school reunion in the winter of ‘04, which is odd because Tommy had been certain he would.

He doesn’t obsess over it – he really doesn’t. It’s just a thought that pops into his mind every now and then – where the hell is Steve Harrington?

In the late spring of 2007, he gets his answer.

“Tom,” his wife says, “That guy from your high school is on the cover of this magazine.”

He knows without asking for clarity that it’s Munson – no other person makes sense – and when he eventually gets his hands on the magazine, he finds that he’s correct.

Eddie Munson is on the cover of a magazine because, apparently, he published another book.

Truthfully, Tommy already knew that.

It’s his fourth book (which, for the record, Tommy hadn’t known until he knew it because it’s not like he’s keeping tabs on this guy or whatever), and it’s been getting a whole bunch of mainstream attention after a controversial landing on the top of all those book charts Tommy doesn’t follow despite featuring a gay love store amidst all his normal fantasy crap. It sparked a whole debate about banning books and everything (dumb, Tommy knows, because if he learned anything in business school it’s that if you really don’t want something to exist, the best thing you can do is not funnel money and attention into it).

Tommy does, in fact, watch the news so he’d already caught wind of all this – it’s part of the reason he can’t shake the guy – and it’s why Eddie Munson is on the cover of this magazine (because, seriously, nobody gives a shit about writers until it hits the news).

He allows himself a moment to look at the cover, to look at Eddie, who apparently goes by Ed now. Tommy is loath to admit it, but he looks good. His hair is normal and he’s grown into his frame, not all long and lanky and gangly limbs like Tommy remembers from school. He looks well-fed, confident, happy.

He looks good.

Tommy thumbs through the first few pages of the magazine until he reaches Eddie’s interview, and, again, he allows himself to look over the photo of him that takes up nearly three-quarters of the first page even if he has no intention of actually reading the article itself because, again, Eddie looks good (and maybe there’s something about the scruff of facial hair along his jaw that Tommy's eye gets stuck on). Tommy’s allowed to say that men look good when it’s true – it’s 2007, as his wife likes to remind him whenever it’s convenient for her, and if she’s allowed to say that Angelina Jolie looked good in that CIA movie, then Tommy is allowed to say that Eddie Munson looks good here.

When Tommy flips to the next page, he’s met with a photo that stops him in his tracks, has his feet frozen to the floor because –

Jesus Christ, that’s Steve Harrington.

Fuck, okay, so he’s reading this fucking article.

It takes Tommy a long time to get through it, honestly. Eddie comes out in the article, which might be a big deal, might not (and he doesn't care to be enlightened, thanks). He keeps getting distracted by the pictures scattered throughout it.

The pictures of Steve, mostly.

Because, well, if Eddie Munson looks good, Steve…

Steve looks alive.

Tommy didn’t realize it until this exact moment, but Steve had existed in his head for the last two decades as the eighteen-year-old he’d been the last time they were in the same room together. It hadn’t exactly occurred to him that Steve’s been aging this whole time too, just like Tommy has.

It’s undeniable that Steve is older.

His hair is starting to go gray at his temples (it’s the only thing that’s changed about his hair since he’s still styling it the same as he did in high school – because why mess with a good thing, Tommy supposes) and he’s got just the hint of crow's feet around his eyes when he smiles. He’s smiling in all the photos – every damn one – and it has Tommy struck by how unbelievably happy Steve seems. It’s an effect that somehow both takes years off the age Tommy knows he is and shines a light on just how good those years must have been for him.

There’s no solo shots of him like there are for Munson – though according to the article, it's actually Harrington now – and only half the photos are in color. The rest of them – the more candid ones – are smaller and left in black-and-white.

The one that caught Tommy’s eye first – because it was meant to, he’s pretty sure; it takes up half the page – is right in that sweet spot between staged and candid where Steve and Eddie both know that they’re being photographed even though neither of them are actually posing. Eddie is grinning at Steve in a wicked way that still feels familiar to Tommy even two decades since he’d last seen it on him (probably swaggering around the cafeteria like a total jackass – not that Tommy would know anything about that). Steve is grinning right back at him with a smile Tommy doesn’t think he’s ever seen before.

Or maybe he has, but not on this version of his face, not since Steve was as young as his oldest daughter.

Just as the author of the article said, the photos don’t show the faces of Steve’s children, either leaving them artfully out-of-focus or choosing shots where they’re turned away from the camera, but they’re still present, and it makes the whole spread almost feel like a photo album in a way, like it should be private but instead was published for the whole world to see.

Steve has three of them – kids, Tommy means. He didn’t know that Steve was a family kind of guy. It makes sense though, when he thinks about it. Steve’s parents were kind of a nightmare — present in the worst ways, and absent in the worst ways too (though it hadn’t seemed that way when Tommy was a teenager looking for a failsafe party house). He'd always felt kind of bad for the guy. Like, Tommy's dad had been a total piece of work, but they'd at least been around, and he'd stuck around long enough for them to sort out their issues at least most of the way, and these days he's a pretty kickass grandpa to Tommy's children.

Tommy wonders about Steve's parents now, wonders if they maybe came around like his own parents had, but then he remembers Mrs. Harrington's Facebook page and how there's not a damn trace of her son on there, never mind three grandchildren.

Tommy isn't sure he wants to touch that.

Steve is probably a really good dad, Tommy decides. He’d been kind of that way when they were friends — Steve used to say he wasn’t all that bright, but he always had a freaky sixth sense for reading people, for caring about them in exactly the way they needed.

There's one photo where Steve is managing to holding his youngest daughter — a tiny little baby still — and her bottle in one arm (that's a level-three dad hold, Tommy knows). The bottle is angled in a way that obscures her face, and Steve's other hand is being tugged on by another daughter, this one with a mop of curly brown hair remarkably similar to Eddie's when it was still long.

That's another thing Tommy won't let himself think about, (because he knows if did he'd start wondering if any of those kids were half-Steve).

Anyways, Tommy doesn't need glance to see that Steve wears fatherhood like a favorite sweater.

There’s something about this, about seeing these pictures, about the way Tommy is getting an answer to that question he’s had for years about where his childhood best friend has been all these years, that is making him feel like his ribcage is being split open, bones splintering and shattering as everything vulnerable inside his chest in suddenly out for display.

He probably should feel uncomfortable, right? Like, a guy he’d been seriously close to growing up — sleepovers and gym locker rooms and all that shit — had turned out to be gay. If his own son came home from school saying that his best friend came out or whatever as gay…well, again, it’s 2007, and Tommy doesn’t think his wife would allow him to denounce the friendship entirely, but there certainly wouldn’t be any sleepovers anymore. He thinks that’s pretty reasonable.

What was the likelihood that Steve had been, like, into Tommy?

And that should be an uncomfortable notion too, and in a sense, it kind of is, but not necessarily in the way he would expect.

He just doesn’t understand why all this feels so much like a loss because he knows that he hasn’t really lost anything – not since he got his hands on the magazine, anyways. Steve Harrington hasn’t played any sort of role in Tommy’s life since their final falling out in 1984, and as far as he’s aware, having a falling out with a close friend is pretty much a guaranteed part of growing up. His wife even experienced something similar when her own grade school best friend suddenly stopped answering calls and stopped reaching out after they’d started college – and his wife is basically the nicest person Tommy has ever known, so…it happens to even the best.

It’s just…Steve had always continued to exist in Tommy’s life in a way, even if he wasn't physically present, and maybe Tommy had figured it could be the same for Steve too, that maybe he sometimes wonders where Tommy is, wonders what he’s up to.

This article and these photos makes it pretty fucking clear that Tommy doesn’t even exist in the same galaxy as the life Steve is living.

And that’s not to mention the Eddie fucking Munson of it all.

Tommy had been kind of ignoring the Eddie of it all until he couldn’t ignore it anymore, because he doesn't care about Eddie Munson.

He'd never cared, but he'd spent years seeing the guy's face and his name everywhere, and now it feels like a sick joke, like he's the piece of Steve left in Tommy's life.

If the article is accurate (and he has no reason to believe it isn’t), Steve and Eddie have been together for longer than Tommy has even known his wife. Steve has been with Eddie for longer than Steve was ever friends with Tommy – not by a lot, but still more. That’s a long fucking time, and it’s clear as day on both of their faces that they’re just as in love with each other fourteen years in as they were on day one.

It’s not just Steve, and it’s not just Eddie, and it’s not one more than the other. It’s both of them.

There’s one photo in particular – a small black-and-white one that keeps pulling Tommy’s attention.

It’s another candid shot, taken from a bit of a distance. In it, Steve has Eddie boxed in against the counter in what has to be their kitchen. Eddie is leaning back against the edge of the granite countertop and looking at Steve with something sappy and fond on his face, and Steve’s hands are this close to grabbing Eddie’s waist as he looks at him the exact same way.

It’s shit out of a fairy tale or something, and sure, maybe someone could argue that they’re laying it on thick just for the sake of the magazine or whatever, but Tommy knows Steve Harrington and that look on his face is more real than Tommy had ever seen in all the years he'd known him.

So maybe Tommy has a reason or two (or three or four) to be jealous of Eddie Munson.

#unreliable narrator!tommy hagan my beloved #the ao3 version has the interview btw #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson #tommy hagan

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ppongie · 22 days

Text

L.JENO - I don’t know

It was prom. Jeno had asked you out to be his prom date, and you happily agreed. I mean, you’ve been loving him from afar ever since you’ve laid eyes on him. This was a big thing- he finally noticed you. But oh, if only you knew.

Now.. you’re sat at a table alone, letting the blue rays of the party lights illuminate your face. Describing how you actually feel as you watched him dance with his ex.

He only asked you out to make her jealous then make his way back to her. His plan worked.

Your eyes watching how she swayed with him, where his hands were on her body, and how she easily painted that smile on his face—

Your relationship with Jeno wasn’t special. With him it was simple hi’s and hello’s, a couple of waves here and there. A pure friendship, nothing more than that.

And being the delusional person that you are, you’ve thought about those little moments every night before bed. Happily knowing that he noticed you, and the whole prom-posal was the cherry on top.

You picked out the perfect outfit for the occasion, thought about him the whole time while getting ready.

“Would he like this color on me?”

“How about my hair? Hmm..”

“I should tone it down a bit, he likes that.”

You believed that the feelings were mutual, you really did- not until you stepped into the party. His eyes darted everywhere to find a familiar face.

He gave you the classic excuse, leaning down to your level to whisper it in your ear “I need to use the restroom.” You gave him a nod and decided to meet your friends to kill time as you wait for him. But he never came back.

Your friends were interrupted by their dates, asking them to slow dance. The girls gave you an apologetic smile as they walked away to dance.

That’s why you’re sat here at the table alone, staring at the crowd. ‘The crowd’ as in Jeno and his Ex.

You felt your world crumbling the second he reached down to kiss her. You tried to stare at something else but you couldn’t. You watched the whole thing happen right in front of you.

You couldn’t do anything about it, these were his feelings. And who are you to pull him away from the person he truly loves?

They were going to announce prom king and queen now. Making up your own story, you knew it would be Jeno and his ex. Then they could live their happy ever after and have their reunion look like it was some kind of fairytale.

This was a waste of time. Watching all this happen was a waste of time. Dressing up for him was a waste of time.

“Prom king is.. Lee Jeno!” You heard every one clap for the man that used you to crawl back to his ex. So you stood up and grabbed your purse, ready to leave.

“And prom queen is..”

You tried to walk faster towards the exit but your friend noticed you as you passed by “y/n-“

“Kim Y/N!” You froze in your spot and felt the spotlight snapping at you, making the glitter on your outfit match the tears in your eyes, very shiny.

“Um..” you say and stared at the person that announced your name, clutching on your purse harder. Your heart racing because of the amount of eyes staring at you, and the sound of your heartbeat is slowly getting louder than the clapping around you. Then your eyes darted to Jeno that was holding your crown,

Your friend insisted to hold your things so you could get the crown.

“Come on up here” the man said in an enthusiastic tone, and you couldn’t do anything but listen. You walked towards the stage and went up the steps. Let’s get it over with, you thought to yourself.

You didn’t make him crown you- no, you held the crown instead and looked at the man that announced your name “I don’t want to dance.” Jeno seemed like he was fine about it, shrugging. Of course he was fine about it.

You then give Jeno a glare and his face transition into confusion, “You okay?” He said. You only scoffed at his question “You’re full of shit.”

You didn’t notice that the man’s mic was close to your side, so everyone heard- making them gasp and whisper to each other about your comment. You turn to walk away and pushed yourself through the crowd.

You didn’t mean to make a scene but you had to spit that comment out, it was hanging by the tip of your tongue. Then for some odd reason, Jeno was chasing after you. “Y/N, come on-“

As soon as you left the school’s gym you turned to look at him. No words leaving your lips this time, just your sad eyes. He knew what that meant, your shaky pupils says it all.

You wait for him to talk, his lips parted trying to say something. “Look..” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair “I’m sorry, okay?”

“I shouldn’t have asked you to go out with me and I should’ve cleaned up my own shit without dragging you in like I already did.” You just stared at him, trying to see if he actually meant every word.

Being the quiet kid in school has its pros and cons. Pros: people are always nice to you and you’re nice to them too. Cons: Jeno asking you out thinking you’d be a good bait.

The tear that’s been carried in your waterline slipped and trickled down your cheek. “I’m sorry, y/n.” He repeated. You pressed your thumb on the sharp edge of your ‘prom queen’ crown, trying to stay steady.

“I hate you, Jeno.” You didn’t mean it, but wanted to see his reaction. He was only staring at you, biting on his lip, maybe he felt a bit guilty?

“Why did you ask me out.. why me?” You shook your head not understanding any of this.

The answer was there in his eyes, you can tell. It’s the way he looked hesitant. Like he was keeping a secret from you and doesn’t know how to tell you.

But his thoughts came in the way and he looked around, trying to avoid your teary eyes. “I..” he lets out a short sigh after and closed his eyes “..I don’t know”

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nayedoll · 12 days

Text

About you (Part 2 of Baby Came Home)

joost klein x fem!reader

rpf below, please don’t read if ur uncomfortable!!!

this is part 2 to baby came home // i highly recommend reading part 1 for context on this fic!!

cw: 18+, nsfw, smut (f!receiving oral, protected piv), angst, some jealousy ig, reader is kind of a bitch lol

word count: 5k

a/n: some songs that fit the vibe: about you - the 1975 / right - mac miller / thinkin bout you - frank ocean / needy - ariana grande

───────────────────────

You sigh anxiously, tossing your phone onto the big pillows of your bed as you lie down on your soft comforter; it helps soothe your nerves a bit, being in your old bed again, surrounded by your stuffed animals and the girlish decoration of your room that has not changed in the slightest — except maybe it’s a little cleaner now, thanks to your mom.

You really shouldn’t be this stressed about today.

If anything, it should feel nice that your old friends were kind enough to invite you out to dinner, a reunion as they had called it to celebrate the fact that you finally stepped foot in the Netherlands after four years. But whatever emotion you should be feeling right now is subsided by the anxiety of meeting Joost again.

After he left New York, you had been texting and calling each other, neither as friends nor as something more, just enjoying the comfort you brought to one another. And for a while, it really seemed like this was going somewhere, like things could work out again if you tried. But of course, everything had to be ruined; all it took was one question— “Why did you leave?”— before a small argument erupted, one that was enough for you to distance yourself from him again.

Joost was trying to find a reason to why you left, why you didn’t want to come back and be with him and frankly, you didn’t even know what to tell him. You said you needed some time, a few days to think which turned into weeks and months of barely any communication— and now here you were, in the four walls of your old bedroom, getting ready to face him again.

The whole situation sort of reminds you of your first date with Joost; same room, same bed, trying to calm yourself down and pick out an outfit but nothing looks good enough. Your dad still has the TV on too loud downstairs and your mom still comes in your room without knocking. The thought eases you down a bit, makes you laugh as you finally make the decision to leave, already running late.

—

The restaurant is small but pretty, soft lighting falling on the adorned walls as the sound of jazz music and people talking fills the air, helps you relax a little. It’s the same one you used to drag Joost to all the time, the one he would always complain about but secretly loved despite not being the “romantic type” in his own words. You wonder if he picked it out, if he even played a part in the planning of this; the thought is unlikely but still brings a smile to your face.

You walk further into the dining room, overtaken by the loving atmosphere of people laughing, talking, genuinely enjoying themselves as you look around for your friends. You eventually spot them at a table towards the back of the room, all the people you cherish so deeply; Alanis, Apson, Tantu, Lyon and of course, Joost.

With a sweet smile on your lips, you approach them slowly yet nervously. Alanis is the first one to notice you as she rises up from her seat, pulling you into a warm, tight embrace.

“Missed you guys!” You exclaim, hugging everyone one by one, slowly, to put off coming face to face with Joost as long as possible. Inevitably you reach him and god does he look good; the same blonde fluffy hair, same baby blue eyes, an outfit that fits him infuriatingly well, of course coupled with his usual smug expression.

The tension in the room immediately shifts as your friends share knowing glances between them— you get the idea that they have all been informed about your little… reunion with Joost in New York, the memory of him on top of you flashing through your mind and making you swallow deeply.

He beams at you, the knot in your stomach loosening as he hugs you, a small confirmation that things are still okay between you.

“Hey,” You hug him back, maybe for a little longer, a little tighter, something that he doesn’t seem to mind as his big hand caresses your spine. He smells like cologne, it’s the one he was wearing that night in New York, that had your apartment smelling like him for the days afterward.

He pulls back, small smile on his lips, “It’s nice seeing you again,” It makes you smile too as you stare into each other’s eyes wordlessly.

“Alright lovebirds, maybe it’s time to sit down?” Apson says, making you and Joost chuckle awkwardly, reminding you of why you’re here in the first place.

—

After some more catching up with everyone and a few glasses of wine, you can confidently say you’re relaxed and having fun— once again proven to have been overthinking. You’re sitting across from Joost, unintentionally noticing every tiny detail about him, the little smiles, the dimples, all of his mannerisms that you adore so much.

He’s oblivious to it but you’re not the only woman who keeps eyeing him tonight. In fact, the girl next to you has been practically burning holes in his face by staring so hard— and needless to say, it doesn’t go unnoticed by you.She’s pretty, her long blonde hair styled in loose curls and her maxi black dress so simple yet so perfect on her. It makes you sick, even though it shouldn’t be and you know it— but you can’t help the growing jealousy within you the more you stare, her eyes hungry for him and every one of her moves deliberate to make him acknowledge her but he never does.

“I’m going for a smoke,” Joost says as he stands up from his chair, hands digging into his jacket’s pockets to find his pack of cigs.

The blonde girl looks up at him with a mischievous smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement, once again getting on your nerves— to be fair, you shouldn’t be mad at her, letting your envy consume you like a little girl but the alcohol makes it a little hard for you to control your emotions in the moment.

“Are you coming?” He asks, knowing you haven’t smoked yet tonight.

You sigh a little frustrated, not thinking about it much “Not in the mood.”

Joost pauses for a moment, the tilting of his head showing his confusion about your sudden change in attitude. Nevertheless, he gives you a small nod and leaves… you feel somewhat bad now, maybe you should go out there and keep him company.

But before you can even get up, that same blonde girl is already making her way to the exit door, her floral scent pervading the air along the way.

You take a deep breath; okay now you definitely feel like smoking. All the possible scenarios run through your mind at once— what if Joost gets her number? Or worse, takes her back home with him? You don’t think about it much longer and walk towards the door and out the restaurant.

The street is almost empty by now, cold air blanketing your body. Joost is just a few meters away, back rested against the brick wall as he lights his cigarette and— as expected— the girl is standing in front of him, making conversation; you can’t hear what she says but it makes Joost smile, giving you enough of a reason to feel even more jealous, a horrible feeling in your throat.

He doesn’t notice you, says some joke that causes her to giggle; you contemplate going back inside, whether this is embarrassing for you— after all it’s none of your business, you’re not his girlfriend anymore. But the pure idea of Joost taking another girl home, kissing her, fucking her the way he did you makes you want to puke, it fills you with rage.

You walk up to them, the sound of your sharp heels on the ground catching his attention. The girl turns around, obviously bothered by your presence and you notice the unlit cigarette on her hand; classic way to approach someone, you think.

You glance at her, bitter smile on your lips. “Can I have one?” You ask Joost, standing closer to him.

“Thought you didn’t wanna smoke right now,” He says but still hands you the pack of cigarettes from his pocket. You pull one out, coaxing him to light it for you as the girl watches.

Now that you came here, you don’t know what to say exactly, the awkward silence making you nervous. Jealousy has always been a bad trait of yours, though really you’re all bark and no bite, never actually acting upon it; if anything Joost always found it cute, teasing you about it endlessly.

“Is zij je vriendin?” (Is she your girlfriend?) The girl asks, pointing at you.

Joost giggles at that, causing you both to glare at him as his laughing comes to a halt. ”Was vroeger,” (Used to be) He replies, taking a short puff from his cigarette, “Het is ingewikkeld.” (It’s complicated)

You slightly furrow your brows, trying to translate the words in your head but to no avail. The girl nods, less confident in her attitude now as she hands the cigarette back to Joost and slowly leaves, mumbling something which you assume to be goodnight.

You’re left alone with Joost, remaining silent as all kinds of thoughts race in your mind. Once again, it’s you and him smoking against a wall, tension filling the air, almost like you’re having deja vu.

“What a nice girl,” Joost says, his tone an exaggerated delight. You nod quietly and take a deep inhale of smoke, nicotine filling your lungs— he’s obviously teasing you and it annoys you how well he knows you, always making it impossible for you to hide from him.

With a simpering smile, he looks down at you and asks, “And really pretty, don’t you think?”

“Yeah she’s cute,” You say as nonchalantly as you can, peering at Joost when he lets out a low laugh as if he’s mocking you. “What?”

He looks back at you with a cocky smile, “You’re jealous,” He says with such confidence it drives you insane, makes you want to punch his pretty face (and kiss it better afterwards).

You scoff, “No I’m not,” You avoid his eyes, the uncertainty evident in your words.

“Admit it,” He smirks, you feel his eyes scanning your face that has a pinkish blush on it from his teasing, though you’d like to think it’s because of the cold.

You glance at him as he raises an eyebrow, waiting for your response. “You’re so full of yourself,” You chuckle, blowing the smoke away from his face.

Joost giggles, more so amused than anything else by the way you’re acting, so timid for nothing.

“And you’re jealous.”

You roll your eyes, suppressing a smile. “Fine,” You sigh as he puckers his lips a little, a sly smile hidden behind them. “I admit I was a little… bothered by a girl flirting with my ex. So sue me for that.”

Joost crosses his arms, grinning widely. “Really?” He emphasizes, taunting you.

“Yes, really.” You repeat his words back to him with the same assertive tone.

“Is bothered the new way to say jealous?” He feigns confusion, his finger scratching the top of his head.

Unbelievable, you think. You groan, stubbing out your cigarette with your shoe,

“You know what, I’m going back inside.”You’re not actually mad with him but more so matching his playfulness and teasing him back.

When you turn around to leave Joost gently tugs at your arm, pulling you back to him as he throws his finished cigarette away.

“Hey, hey, hey, come on, I’m sorry.” He giggles, using this as an opportunity to grab you by the waist, bring you closer as you pout your lips at him. “I get it,” He murmurs.

“You get it?” You raise an eyebrow, unsure of what exactly it is that he’s getting. His touch on your skin is strong, it makes you lightheaded as you look up at him under the yellowish street lights.

He nods, “I’d be jealous too if some guy was flirting with you,” You smile a little, fighting to keep your composure. Joost was never the toxic and overprotective type, but you loved it whenever he got a little jealous, expressing it in petty but cute ways be it kissing you more than usual or being clingy with you in front of other men.

“Yeah?” You ask him.

“Mhm.” His lips are close to yours, the tips of your noses brushing together. “Although I bet tons of guys have flirted with you since I left New York, am I right?” His voice is lower, raspy sending a warmth through your body even in the middle of the cold night.

“Maybe,” You bite your lip, slowly sliding your hands up the sides of his neck.

Some men had indeed approached you in those months, none of whom you bothered giving a chance to. It didn’t matter how attractive or successful or charming they were— they weren’t Joost and that was enough for you to turn them down.

Joost presses a few kisses on your jaw and the crook of your neck, his lips wet and soft on your skin. “I bet you flirt a lot too,” He mumbles against your neck as tingles erupt all over your body. “Talking to anyone but me,” His words are bittersweet, petty as he nips at your skin and makes you moan quietly. You didn’t text me either, is what you want to say but bickering right now seems a little pointless.

“Let me make it up to you,” You whisper, holding his face in your hands as you lean in to kiss him. Your lips press together hungrily, savoring the taste of wine and cigarettes on his tongue. His hands grab your ass tightly, squeezing it as you let out little sounds into the kiss, sounds that make Joost crumble into pieces all the more. Your sweet scent stimulates his senses, makes him go crazy as he feels himself grow harder.

“Oh damn,” You cut the kiss short, turning around to see Apson and Teun, a shared amusement on their faces— definitely not awkward.

“Okay! I guess we’re not smoking after all,” Apson says, urging Teun to go back inside as you hear Joost laugh behind you.

“No, it’s okay. We were gonna head back inside anyways,” You step back from Joost, fixing your skirt as you wave them over to where you are.

“We were?” Joost asks, you slap him on his arm smiling. “Okay,” He nods, following you inside as he mumbles something to the guys which makes all of them laugh; you assume he scolded them for interrupting your heated moment, seeing as he playfully hits Tantu on his shoulder.

“Wait,” You stop him before he pushes the glass door open, gently grabbing his chin in your hand. Joost looks down at you like a confused puppy, it almost makes you laugh as you brush your lip gloss off his lips. “There.” You smile as he thanks you.

“My place tonight?” He whispers softly, brushing his thumb against your cheek and you nod.

Alanis and Lyon are still in their seats, talking when you come in. They look up at you, smile knowingly at each other because it is so obvious what you and Joost were doing out there, your faces flustered and Joost’s hair unruly.

Joost, as always, breaks the awkward silence, says something about how his steak is shaped like Belgium… which works well enough to switch the subject. Peeking at your right, you notice the blonde girl from before— she seems fairly disappointed, not looking at Joost anymore and it gives you a weird sense of pride, knowing he picked you again, that you’re the one going home with him tonight; hopefully you’ll talk to him later, tell him the thing you’ve been meaning to say all night.

—

Your friends ended up going for drinks after the dinner which you and Joost politely declined, opting to walk the twenty minutes back to his house.

There’s a light breeze in the air, giving you enough of an excuse to get closer to Joost and hug him from behind, your arms around his stomach— maybe it’s too romantic of a gesture but he clearly doesn’t mind as he keeps on fumbling with his set of keys, a small smile on his lips.

Finally unlocking the door, he ushers you inside his house; it’s different to his old one, bigger and surprisingly cleaner than you’d expected, though still cluttered with random objects here and there.

Joost notices the way you look around the dark room, the soft moonlight coming in through the big windows. “Like it?” You feel his hand on your ass, his body pressing you gently against the door.

Placing both arms around his neck you smile, his chest warm against yours. “Yeah. You have good taste in furniture,”

“You should see my taste in women,” His words make you beam against his lips, teeth knocking together as he leans in to kiss you. You deepen the kiss, helping Joost with taking off his jacket that is quickly thrown somewhere on the floor behind him. He does the same for you, kissing along your jaw to your exposed shoulder as your leather jacket falls down to your feet.

Your hand travels down to his crotch, palming his erection which earns you a small sigh from him. Joost pulls you closer by the waist, strong hands caressing your curves as you continue teasing him, your fingers playing with the metal buckle of his belt. In the meantime, you start placing wet kisses on his jaw and neck, your little bites in between making him groan quietly.

“Those are a lot of hickeys,” Joost says.

“Just making sure no other girls approach you,” You mumble; it’s half serious half teasing, you know it turns him on when you’re possessive over him.

Joost smirks, fighting the urge to call you out for your jealousy once again, though he makes a mental note to tease you about it later. He’s too flustered to speak right now anyways, with the feeling of you everywhere; your lips on his neck, one thigh between his legs all while you’re trying to unbutton his shirt (and failing miserably at doing so)— you’re hungry for him and he likes that, likes knowing you’re as weak as he is on the inside, as your hot breath trembles on his neck.

“Let me help you schat,” He pulls back from you, focusing on the buttons on his striped button-up which he takes off at a tauntingly slow speed, biting back a smile when he hears you whine at the loss of contact. Your hands roam around his stomach and chest under his loosened shirt as he fully removes it, then blindly tosses it somewhere behind him.

He clicks his tongue, “So impatient,” He kisses you again, finger on your chin to bring your face closer.

“Yeah because I need you,” You breathe out, feeling his sly smile grow on your lips; it comes out more desperate, more whiny than you intended it to sound, your neediness making Joost’s cock twitch in his pants.

“Fuck,” He murmurs, biting his lip. “Come on, this way,” Taking your hand in his, he leads you to his bedroom— small and messy, full of his scent.

He sits you down on his poorly made bed, the back of your thighs meeting the cool wrinkled sheets. You watch as Joost begins to undo his belt, rubbing your legs together to loosen some of the tension in between them but it does nothing for you— the image of his big tattooed hands on the small metal letters of his belt, Albino, only adds to your arousal. You raise your foot slightly, nudging his calf as he glances at you, your doe eyes looking up at him, practically begging him to hurry up.

He chuckles, pushing his pants down. “So damn needy,”.

He kneels down on the carpet in front of you, the tender touch of his hands down your legs and his tight grip on your calves giving you goosebumps. He takes your high heels off, carefully putting them aside before his lips start littering your legs with kisses.

“Such a gentleman,” You coo, your breathing deepening with each peck on your skin as Joost gently pushes your legs open to gain more access to your inner thighs. There, he sucks on the sensitive skin, coaxing you to gasp; he hasn’t even fully touched you, yet you’re already melting under his touch, aching with need.

Joost stops at the hem of your skirt, his light blue eyes looking up at you from between your thighs, an image you wish you could capture. “Baby can I eat you out, please?”

A small smile forms on your lips. Who’s needy now?

You nod down at him, “Since you asked so politely.” Joost motions for you to stand up, sly grin on his face; he strips your skirt off, his palms aimlessly stroking your legs, giving you a small squeeze on your ass. He gently pulls your panties off, the lace fabric slightly sticking to your skin due to the wetness in your folds.

“Zo mooi,” His compliment sends a warm smile to your face as you stroke his hair. He plants another quick kiss on your clit, the tiny tingling sensation causing you to hiss, then guides you backwards against the bed until your back hits the comforter. Involuntarily, you bend your knees for him as he climbs into the bed, slightly hovering over you.

He leans down and kisses you hungrily, his thick fingers rubbing small circles on your clit as you moan loudly into the kiss from the sudden wave of pleasure. You feel him smile against your lips, a cocky smile at that.

He slowly pushes one finger into your slick folds, “You like that?” He purrs against your jaw. You nod repeatedly, muttering a soft yeah in between shallow breaths. Joost goes lower as he lies on his stomach, burying himself in your thighs, deep purple marks all over them from his previous kisses. Withdrawing his finger from you, he licks up your entrance, making you suck in a sharp breath as your thighs close together ever so slightly, pressing on his head.

He starts soft, his tongue flat near your clit making your skin prickle before he moves down, teasing your hole with just the tip of his tongue.

Impatiently, you push your hips forward, desperate to feel more of him; he nuzzles your core as you both let out a small laugh. “You want me to suffocate down here?”

You giggle, “I will suffocate you if you don’t hurry up,”

He grins, delving his tongue into your slit. You moan as you feel it swirling inside you slowly, making you clench. “Faster,” You breathe out, entangling your fingers in his hair, softly pulling at his golden hair strands. Joost picks up the pace as his tongue explores you, nudges your clit a few times to hear more of your breathy moans. He holds your legs open that are trembling as you chase your climax, your body burning with overstimulation. His thumb is stroking your clit in fast motions, causing you to whimper continuously and grasp at his hair to which he hums sending a vibration through your core.

With that, you come undone on his mouth as you let out a loud mixture of cries and curses. Joost lets you ride out your high, sucking at your lips and your clit. His chin is glistening with your release as he pulls back from you, plants a few gentle kisses on your thighs, letting you catch your breath.

You gaze at him as he sits up a little and grabs a condom from the nightstand. He’s a little sweaty, his face flushed and his hair looks messy as he runs his hand through it, He’s perfect.

“Don’t look at me like that,” He says as he takes off his boxers— your eyes flicker to his hard cock, the tip swollen and leaky with precum. You feel a little guilty, want to take care of him like he did you.

You giggle, narrowing your eyes at him, “That’s how that girl at the restaurant was looking at you, just so you know I’m not crazy or anything,”

“You’re still on that? Baby, I’m here with you now, you don’t have to worry about it,” He softly pulls your hand, making you sit up next to him, kissing you on your cheek.

Smiling softly, you take the condom from his hand, opening the wrapper with your teeth. “Joost?” You ask him as you carefully slip the condom on, feeling his veins along the way. He hums, coaxing you to keep talking. “Can I ride you?” You’re a little shy when asking him that and you don’t know why; today in general, you’re kind of nervous around him and he finds it funny, cute nonetheless.

“Hell yeah,” You look at him again, his warm smile comforting you.

He crawls past you, sitting against the plush headboard as you move to sit atop him. Your face is also flushed, beaming with the afterglow of your orgasm and Joost can’t help but kiss you again, slowly, whilst fully removing your top.

You take his shaft in your hands, adjusting yourself above him so that his tip is right at your entrance before you push yourself down onto him; the residue of your arousal makes it easier for him to bottom out, a drawn out groan leaving his mouth as he does so, feeling you tighten around the veins on his cock. You lift yourself up slightly until only the tip is inside of you before quickly sinking down onto his cock again— you continue this pattern, noticing the breathy moans that Joost lets out, his mouth opened ever so slightly and his brows furrowed.

You pick up your pace, placing both hands on his shoulders for support as Joost squeezes your tits in his warm hands. Locking eyes with him, you almost want to cry with how beautiful he looks, how good his cock feels inside of you, how perfect you are for one another.

“What’s on your mind liefde?” He breathes out, a grunt slipping from his lips.

You bite back a moan, “Joost I want you,”

“You have me,” He chuckles.

“No,” You mutter, “I want you all the time. I love you,” You speak fast, desperate to convey your feelings to him. “I love you so much,” You repeat, burying your face in his neck.

“Shit,” He groans as he starts thrusting into you, noticing that you’re growing tired. “I love you too,” His hands are tightly wrapped around your body, holding you in place as he slams his shaft against you— it’s fast and sloppy, makes you dizzy with pleasure, unable to suppress your loud moans. Your eyes tear up a little at the confirmation that he also loves you— it’s not the first time you hear it from him but you’ve missed it, you’ve missed him and this stupid city that you grew to love because of him.

The pressure is too much, easily leading you to your second orgasm tonight as you dissolve into pleasure, moaning Joost’s name repeatedly. He’s now the only one doing the work, pushing himself into you relentlessly as you kiss him softly on his face because that’s the most you can do right now with how much your legs are burning.

A little later, Joost comes inside of the condom, the sound of his deep moans (and a few whimpers he tries to suppress but fails) filling the room.

You collapse next to him and onto the bed, breathing deeply, your eyes heavy with exhaustion. Joost gets up wordlessly to put his boxers on again, coming back with a shirt on his hand and your panties. He sits down in front of you, gently pulling your tired body up so that he can redress you. “You’re gonna get cold,” He mumbles, his thoughtfulness bringing a sweet smile to your lips.

“Thank you,” You coo, enjoying the feeling of his shirt on your body; it’s warm and big, carries his scent that you love so much. “I like this shirt,”

“Yeah? Keep it. Y’know to have something remind you of me when you go back to New York,” He chuckles a little as he says that. You take a deep breath, looking at him with eager eyes. He senses a hesitation in you, tilting his head in confusion, “What is it?”

“I’m not going back,” You say, your voice close to a whisper. “To New York, I mean.”

Joost grins, “Don’t play with me dude,” He says, shaking his head.

“I’m not,” You chuckle, gently placing your hand on top of his. “I got offered a job here and I’ve been thinking about it,”

Joost’s eyes light up, his dimples prominent. “Liefde that’s great news,”

He hugs you, presses some kisses on your hair as you stroke his back— he never wants this feeling to go away. “Date tomorrow?” He asks in your ear.

“Mhm.” You smile and kiss him softly, staying in the comfort of his arms. You get a good feeling, one that you haven’t had in years; you will go on that date and things will work out between you and you will never let him go again.

“I love you.”

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thank you sm for reading!!! i hope this met everyone’s expectations lol 😭🥹

#joost klein #joost #joost klein x reader #joost x reader #rpf #joost klein rpf

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