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satorulovebot · 17 days ago

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so scarlet it was, maroon | chapter one

✧₊⁺ pairing — satoru gojou x journalist!reader

✧₊⁺ chapter summary — you get the chance to meet the infamous gojou satoru while working on your journalism project at suzuka circuit. what could you possibly want from him?

✧₊⁺ word count — 6.3k

✧₊⁺ warnings — nsfw (minors dni), age gap, alcohol use, mature themes, mentions of cheating, substance abuse, themes of marriage and divorce

✧₊⁺ notes — hello everyone! i asked you awhile ago on a poll which series you would like to see after cursed seas and f1 gojo won the poll and then i posted the masterlist and everyone wants it so you get it now. so here it is. and NO its not happy NEVER expect happiness from me because im allergic to it. also the reader being nosy af is inspired by me and my parents telling me i should be a journalist with how nosy i am.

series masterlist // pinterest moodboard // general masterlist

next chap. (coming soon)

You moved to Tokyo with your family when you were younger.

You grew up in a rural part of the country, surrounded by farmers and people either ready to retire or nearing the end of their lives. Your parents hated living there, and so did you—for one, there were hardly any kids to play with, and two, as your father would say, "too many old fuckers lying around."

When you moved to Tokyo, your family decided to celebrate by taking you to a Formula 1 race. Your dad thought it would be perfect for the two of you since fixing up old cars had always been your daddy-daughter activity.

You didn’t like the idea of racing at first—the noise was too loud, and the idea of people speeding toward a black-and-white checkered line seemed ridiculous. But the moment you heard the roar of the engines and watched the lights go from red to green, you were captivated, a fascination that would stay with you for years.

When you got your first computer, you began looking up videos of F1 drivers. One day, you stumbled across a video titled “The Biggest F1 Scandals in History,” and that was when you decided you wanted to go into journalism.

You were nosy, to say the least. So, it was no surprise to your parents when you announced to them that you wanted to pursue journalism as a career. Your father reminded you how you’d always been curious, listening in on others’ conversations and keeping up with the latest school drama.

When you applied for journalism school, you were accepted into one of the top programs in the world—Sophia University. Your parents were proud that you’d made it into such a highly ranked school for journalism in Japan.

You were now in your fourth and final year at Sophia, and enjoying your journalism class. Recently, your professor assigned a project: write a story about a major pop culture figure of your choice, and for extra credit, get an interview with them. Your professor knew it was damn near impossible, but he was always optimistic that one day, someone would get that interview and he could retire in peace.

That project led you here: Suzuka Circuit, Japan's main Formula 1 track. Your chosen figure was none other than Gojou Satoru—F1's biggest driver in recent years. He was your father's favorite among the new-generation drivers, known for his string of controversies since he started on top of the persistent rumors of his heavy drug use before races.

You had managed to snag a media passs from your professor when you mentioned doing an F1 driver for your project. He was able to pull some strings to get you into the media booth, getting you a closer look at Gojou Satoru in person.

You watched the pre-race preparations closely from the media booth, your fingers hovered above your notepad as you waited for the race to start. You were determined to get a good grade on this project, and that meant adding every single detail to your report about this race.

It was about time for the drivers to gather in their garages, each wearing headsets and ready for the pre-race briefing. The briefing typically covers the race start, various pit stop scenarios, and a detailed weather report. Before each race weekend, they usually spend time in a simulator of the track they'll be racing on, preparing them for the upcoming race.

After about thirty-minutes the racers came out of their garages in their respective cars. They each line up based on the results of a quaifying session that takes place before the race, slowest qualifier in the back, fastest in the front. Gojou Satoru was at the front of the grid, which meant he was one of the qualifiers who had the fastest time.

You waited around for a little while longer turning your attention to what was happening around you. Eventually, you made your way back to the front of the media booth as the race started, ready to report.

The engines revved as each driver began preparing for the start of the race, each car vibrating on the starting grid like a beast straining at its chains. Gojou sat at the front of the lineup, his hands loose on the wheel, fingers tapping in a steady rhythm as he waited for the lights to turn green.

The roar from the grandstands faded, becoming a blur of sound as the lights ticked down: red, red, red, red… green.

He slammed the throttle, feeling the raw force of the car’s engine kick him back into his seat as he tore down the straight. Other cars jostled for position behind him, all fighting to claim the inside line into the first turn.

Through his earpiece, he heard the voice of his race engineer, Shokou, calm as ever. “Clear on turn two, you’ve got five-tenths on Hayashi. Stay tight.”

But Gojou barley heard her. The car was an extension of him, responding to his every thought, every split-second decision. He pushed down the straights, his right foot heavy on the accelerator, taking corners at speeds most drivers wouldn’t dare attempt. The sound of his tires skidding against the asphalt, the blur of the track side barriers, the lights of Tokyo reflecting off his mirrors—it all blended into a single, perfect rush.

Gojou could see the next turn ahead, a tight chicane that could send the best drivers into the barriers if they weren't careful. He braked hard, turning the wheel with perfect precision to angle the car through. He could feel the back end wobbling, but he didn't flinch, drifting perfectly as he swung back onto the racing line, gaining another second on the pack.

He could almost hear the collective gasp of the crowd in his head as he slipped through the chicane. This was his playground. Every race was a chance to remind the world why he was the best.

“Coming up on a DRS zone,” Shoko’s voice crackled in his ear, grounding him, though he was already on it

He waited for the perfect moment, watching the rear-view mirror to see the faint outline of Hayashi's car. He pressed the DRS, and his car shot forward, the drag reduction giving him a temporary speed boost that had him pulling away, putting him in the lead.

The track opened up ahead, the second sector full of wide, sweeping turns. Here was where raw speed mattered more than anything. Gojou pressed down hard on the accelerator, the engine roaring in response. He leaned forward, watching the track fly by, the white lines blurring as he focused entirely on the road ahead.

For a second, the sound in his earpiece went dead, the faint sound of static filling his ears. Then Shokou was back. “You’ve got Yoshida closing in on your tail. He’s pushing hard.”

Gojou glanced up at the mirrors, his eyes catching the bright blue and orange of Yoshida's car looming larger. The familiar thrill sparked in him. So, Yoshida thought he had a chance, did he? Well, he’d show him otherwise.

“Copy,” he muttered into his mic, eyes narrowing as he took the next corner, barley touching the brakes. He felt the tires skid but he managed to control the drift, knowing any slip would open the door for Yoshida to slip past.

He whipped into another straight, his hands steady on the wheel as he hit a top speed.

His foot didn’t so much as twitch as the engine’s roar morphed into a high-pitched scream as the car closed the distance.

The curve ahead was brutal—a tight 90-degree bend that demanded precise timing.

In a split-second decision, he did something no one expected. He braked late, his heart pounding as he cut the turn at a speed that sent the back end skidding. The tires gripped just in time, allowing him to pull out of the corner without losing traction. He could almost feel the shock reverberating as he regained control, his lead still intact.

As the laps wore on, his body moved on instinct, every gear shift, every turn becoming a single, fluid motion. One lap. Two. Three, with two pit stops between. He counted them off one by one, his mind buzzing with the pure rush of speed and the heat inside the car, barely noticing the time passing. The crowd faded into nothing, the world shrinking down to the track and his car.

The final lap. This was it.

“Box this lap if you’re in trouble,” Shokou’s voice crackled again. “Tire degradation is high.”

But Gojou’s grip on the steering wheel only tightened. His front tires were holding out—barely. It would be tight, but he could make it. He’d run this last lap on sheer determination alone if he had to.

“Negative, Shokou. I’m taking it,” he replied, and then turned off the earpiece, tuning out everything except the track and the car in front of him.

He launched into the final lap, throwing caution to the wind. Yoshida was right on his tail now, close enough that he could see the gleam of his headlights in the mirrors. But Gojou didn’t back down. He took each turn aggressively, blocking Yoshida's attempts to pass, forcing him to fall back every time.

The last chicane loomed ahead, his final obstacle before the finish line. He tightened his grip, the wheel trembling under his hands. He took the chicane fast, too fast, almost feeling the wheels lift off the ground as he flew out of the turn. The car rocked, but he held steady, pushing the pedal to the floor.

The finish line was in sight, a faint white line at the end of the straight, and with one last push, he crossed it, the checkered flag waving in his periphery as he tore past.

It was only after he’d crossed over the line that the realization hit him—he’d won.

The cheers erupted in the stands, the roar of the crowd filling his ears as he slowed down, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He could hear Shoko’s voice crackling back in as she shouted, “You pulled it off, you insane bastard.”

Gojou grinned, leaning back in his seat, still buzzing. He’d done it again, just as he always did.

The moment he climbed out of the cockpit, Gojou was surrounded by his team. Shokou was the first to reach him, her usually composed face split by a wide grin. She grabbed his helmet and thumped him on the shoulder hard enough so he actually felt it though the layers of his suit.

“You reckless son of a—”

“Language, Shokou,” Gojou interrupted, grinning as he yanked off his gloves, waving to the rest of the Tokyo Jujutsu Racing team that swarmed him.

“Do you know what it’s like to watch you pull stunts like that? I’m gonna need a raise after today’s heart attack,” she muttered.

“Oh, come on, Shokou. That was just a little fun.” He stretched his arms over his head. “Where’s my confetti?”

“Coming right up, your royal highness." Someone handed him a bottle of champagne, still cold and slick, and he twisted the cap, spraying a wild arc of foam that showered his team and nearby fans.

His PR manager, Nanami, clapped him on the back. “You’re insufferable."

“That’s what I’m here for,” he said, lifting the champagne bottle in a mock toast, flashing him a grin. The media’s cameras clicked and flashed, capturing every moment as his crew continued their congratulations.

The crowd pressed close against the barriers, shouting his name, waving homemade banners with scribbled slogans and his number embellished with the colors red and black. He walked closer, one arm raised, acknowledging the fans, letting their cheers fill him up, louder and louder with every step.

But as he continued walking, his gaze caught on something—or rather, someone—just beyond the crowd.

At first it was just a hint curiosity, the way your gaze was fixed on him. A bit removed from the chaos, you leaned against one of the barriers with a media pass hanging around your neck, arms folded as you watched from a distance.

Gojou slightly narrowed his eyes, holding your gaze longer than he'd held any fan's tonight, as if he was daring you to look away first.

“What the hell is that about?” he muttered under his breath, gaze moving back to Shokou for half a second.

“Hm?” Shokou followed his gaze, but her eyes slid right past you, uninterested. “Press. You’ll get used to it. Come on, they’re all waiting.”

He forced himself to break the stare, clearing his throat as Shokou ushered him toward the media pen, where a lineup of journalists waited, all armed with recorders, microphones, and notebooks.

He fielded the usual questions—how did it feel to win, what was his mindset, what was he thinking on that last turn? His answers were always the same practiced ones, words sliding out like clockwork.

“Well, Mr. Gojou, what would you say to those who believe your racing style is a little… aggressive?” one journalist asked, a little smirk on her face as if she thought she was catching him off guard.

He snorted. “They can call it what they want. I call it winning.” He shrugged. “I don’t come out here to play it safe.”

A few reporters laughed at his remark, clearly interested in what else he had to say as a fresh wave of questions started.

Somewhere behind the flashing lights, he saw you again, lingering a few feet behind the crowd of reporters with that calm gaze fixed on him. You didn’t raise a recorder or a camera, didn’t even make an effort to push closer for a question. You just… watched.

It was disconcerting.

“Gojou!” Another journalist waved a microphone his face, snapping his attention back to the current situation. “What’s the next step for you this season?”

He forced a smile, eyes briefly looking back to you before he focused on the question. “The same as always,” he said. “Push harder, get faster, and give everyone something to talk about.”

The crowd laughed again, though, he barely heard them, too focused on the strange woman staring right into his soul. The two of you locked eyes and you have him a small nod, as if acknowledging that you were in fact staring into his soul.

“Well, I think that’s enough,” Shokou said suddenly at his elbow, pulling him out of his thoughts. “They’ll have plenty of time to hound you later.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmured, though he let her guide him away. Still, he couldn’t help glancing back over his shoulder, hoping to catch one last glimpse of you.

But you were already gone.

Gojou slipped away from the crowd, weaving through the bustling garage and dodging the congratulatory slaps on his back, the endless rounds of handshakes, and the celebratory shouts. He ducked past a few journalists, ignoring the barrage of questions still hurled his way, his smile slipping as he finally found the door to the bathroom.

Inside, the cool, sterile silence was jarring compared to the noise outside, but he let out a sigh of relief, his heart hammering in his chest. He clicked the lock and leaned against the sink, running his hands over his face, staring at his own reflection in the mirror.

The victory high had worn off, leaving behind a familiar pressure he could not cope with. It settled on his shoulders like an old, unwelcome friend.

He hadn't realized how much tension he was carrying in his shoulders, how deeply it would itself into him when he was alone. The race had been perfect, his win flawless, but he could feel the exhaustion radiating off of him, a pulsing throb being his eyes. He clenched his jaw, glaring at himself in the mirror.

“Pull yourself together,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

But his words fell flat, swallowed up by the silence. In the mirror, his own eyes stared back at him, tired, almost hollow.

He reached into the pocket of his racing suit, fingers brushing over the small, familiar packet hidden in the inner lining. It was a stupid habit, a reckless one really, but it was one he hadn't been able to shake, no matter how many times he tried to quit. He could practically feel the temporary relief in the palm of his hand.

He closed his eyes, running his thumb along the edge of the packet before pulling it out, setting it on the counter next to the sink. He ripped it open tapping a small line onto the smooth counter top. It was like his fingers had a mind of their own, as if it was part of his routine of suiting up or gripping the wheel.

The powder glinted under the bathroom’s harsh fluorescent lights, almost mocking him with its simplicity. Just a quick escape, just enough to take the edge off. That’s all he needed.

He leaned down, closing one nostril and inhaling sharply, feeling the sting as the powder hit his nose. He straightened his back, blinking hard, the world around him sharpening as his mind cleared. A small, humorless smile tugged at his lips.

He leaned back against the sink, tilting his head up to stare at the ceiling, feeling his heartbeat slow, the tension in his muscles fading away.

But it didn’t take long for the guilt to creep back in, that hollow feeling settling in his chest, a reminder that this wasn't the answer. He knew it. He knew exactly what he was doing to himself, how he was destroying his body from the inside out, how it could all come crashing down. And yet… here he was.

“Fucking pathetic,” he muttered to himself, his voice echoing against the tiles.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, jolting him back to reality.

“Gojou? You in there?” It was Shokou. “They’re waiting for you out here.”

He stuffed the empty packet back into his pocket, brushed the last of the substance off of the sink, and glanced in the mirror one last time to check his reflection, making sure there was no trace left of his momentary escape.

Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders, forced a smirk, and unlocked the door.

Shokou was standing there, arms crossed, her gaze scrutinizing as he stepped out. She didn’t say anything, but her judgmental eye lingered over him for a split second too long.

“You good?”

“Never better."

“Right,” she said, clearly unconvinced, but she dropped it, gesturing for him to follow her.

As the celebrations continued, Gojou weaved his way through fans and team-members alike who were still wrapped up in their post-race celebrations. He scanned the crowd, hoping to find the strange woman from earlier who he noticed had a press pass, thinking you would be here.

And then he saw you, leaning against a stack of crates near the garages, observing the current scene with the same judgmental eyes that Shokou had. The media badge hung from your neck, swaying slightly as you shifted your weight, pulling out a notebook and flipping through it, seemingly absorbed in what you were currently doing.

He cleared his throat as he approached, the echo of his footsteps giving his presence away.

You looked up, your brow raised as he came closer, a hint of intrigue flashing in your eyes.

“Looking for something?” you asked, not moving as he stopped in front of you.

“You could say that,” he replied, slipping his hands into his pockets, his gaze darted to the notebook in your hands. “I couldn’t help but notice you earlier, off in the shadows. Didn’t feel like joining the crowd?”

“Not my style.” You shrugged. “I’m not here to cheer. I’m here to report.”

“Journalist, huh?” he drawled, tilting his head. “What’s your angle?”

“The truth,” you said, a little smile pulling at your lips as you studied him. “Not everyone’s a fan of that, I know.”

“Depends on what you call the truth. But I’ve got a feeling you’ve already got your version.”

"How perceptive. I’m doing a piece on your racing career, your achievements, but… the public wants a fuller picture, don’t you think?

“Not sure I follow. Everyone knows what they need to know.”

“Not quite,” you replied, flipping through your notebook. “There’s more than just racing stats when it comes to Gojou Satoru, isn’t there?”

“Care to elaborate?”

“People say you’re… unraveling. Your recent ‘questionable decisions’ are starting to paint a different picture, don’t you think?” you said, tapping your pen against your notebook. “The accidents, the fines, the constant change in pit crews—”

“Is this some kind of witch hunt?” he interrupted. “Because I’d hate to disappoint you, princess, but I’ve heard it all.”

“Maybe so.” You leaned in a bit, meeting his stare. “But what about the whispers that aren’t out yet? The suspicions about you cheating the drug tests, your team shielding you—” You paused. “There’s a lot of money on your success, Mr. Gojou.”

“Money and racing have always gone hand-in-hand, don’t you think? You’d have a hard time finding someone out here who hasn’t bent a rule or two.”

“True enough.” You titled your head slightly. “But even the most golden careers have a way of losing their shine.”

"Tell me—do you enjoy tearing people down for a living?”

“Only if it’s warranted,” you replied unfazed. “People aren’t interested in perfect stories. They want the flaws, the dirt. It makes it all more real. At least that's what my professor believes."

“You’ve got a wicked mind, I’ll give you that. But I hope you realize you’re not the first to come sniffing around for the ‘real story’.”

A pregnant pause settles between you before you asked, “And what about her?”

A beat passed before he answered. “Who?”

“Your wife. She’s been… noticeably absent from the press circuits. And rumor has it things aren’t exactly picture-perfect between you two.”

“Rumor has it,” he repeated. “Guess you know how it is in this business. There’s always some rumor or another.”

“So it’s just a rumor, then? All the time apart, the missed events, her name suddenly missing from every headline. You’re saying there’s nothing to it?”

“People are eager to make stories out of nothing. My private life is just that—private.”

“That’s interesting,” you murmured, not looking away. “Because the most recent stories about you and her—they’re awfully detailed. People are noticing, wondering why she’s suddenly… disappeared from the scene.”

“Let them wonder. Like I said, people will talk. And it seems like you’re more interested in gossip than journalism.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Journalism is about uncovering the truth,” you countered. “But it seems like you’re more comfortable brushing things under the rug than addressing them.”

His smile returned, his carefully crafted facade sliding back into place as he straightened up, glancing away from you, clearly bored of the conversation. "Maybe someday you'll get the truth you're so desperate for, but it's not going to be today."

Before he walked away completely, he gave you one last look, his tone playful but laced with a hint of warning. “Be careful what you dig up, princess. Sometimes the truth’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

And with that, he turned his back to you, disappearing into the crowd.

Gojou returned home after the long night of celebrations had died down, the adrenaline from the race long gone, now replaced by a gnawing emptiness that felt like it might hollow him out. His penthouse was in the hear of Tokyo—a sleek, modern apartment with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the neon-drenched skyline.

As he opened the door, the soft him of the city below was drowned out by the sound of footsteps, His wife, Hana, appeared from the hallway, her arms crossed tightly across her chest, her eyes narrowed. She was dressed in a sleek black outfit, her dark hair pulled back, a looking a frustration etched onto her face.

“You’re late."

“Didn’t realize I was on a curfew,” he replied, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto a nearby chair.

“Don’t act like that.” Her eyes flashed as she followed him into the living room. “You missed the dinner with my parents again. They’ve been asking about you, wondering why you’re never around.”

“Hana, I just won a race,” he replied, exasperated. “Sorry if I wasn’t in the mood to play the doting son-in-law tonight.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms tighter. “Of course, it’s always about the race with you. Everything is about that damn career, isn’t it?”

“You knew what you were signing up for when you married me.”

“Maybe I didn’t know it would mean you disappearing for days, weeks sometimes, chasing whatever thrill you think you need to feel alive.”

“What’s your point, Hana? We’ve had this argument a hundred times.”

“The point is, Satoru,” she said, voice trembling with anger, “that you seem to care more about everything else than this marriage. I’m just a fixture in your life, something you come back to whenever you need to check a box or show face. But you’re never really here.”

He let out a harsh laugh, the bitter sound filling the apartment. "Here we go again. Hana, it’s not like you’ve been some shining example of commitment either. You’ve known what this is for months.”

“What this is?” Her voice rose, cracking slightly as she repeated his words. “What exactly is ‘this,’ Satoru? A sham? A partnership for appearances? I thought you loved me…"

“I can’t keep doing this,” she continued softly, her voice breaking. “The lying, the pretending. It’s exhausting.”

“So what do you want me to say, Hana? That I’m some perfect husband?” He gestured to himself, shaking his head with a smirk that looked almost pained. “We’re both guilty here. Let’s not act like this hasn’t been a slow-motion train wreck.”

“Fine. But do me a favor—at least act like you care when people ask. Because every time I hear some story about you, another scandal or rumor, it’s like a slap in the face. My family, my friends—everyone’s talking. They see the headlines too.”

“What do you want from me, Hana?” he asked quietly, the fight suddenly draining out of him. “You want me to pretend I’m someone I’m not?”

“I want… I wanted the man I married. The one who cared, who had dreams."

“Then maybe,” he said finally, his voice almost a whisper, “it’s time to stop pretending.”

As Gojou stood there running a hand through his hair. Hana paused, her expression shifting from something resigned to something wounded.

“And there’s one more thing."

He looked at her, brow furrowing. “Fucking Christ Hana, what now?”

“Do you think I’m stupid, Satoru?” she asked, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “I know what’s out there. The rumors. The whispers about who you’re with when you’re not here. Or maybe you think I don’t hear them.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Hana, they’re just rumors. You know how the press is—they’ll twist anything for a story.”

“Twist what, exactly? Why do they have something to twist in the first place?”

“They don’t have anything. It’s just the media looking for something to make people read. Speculation sells.”

“Right. Speculation. But funny how it’s always about you, always linked to another woman.”

“That’s because I’m under a microscope. People love to create scandals, especially with someone like me. And you know that better than anyone.”

“It’s not just them, Satoru. People talk, and it’s not just baseless gossip. I’m not naive. I hear things from people close to you, people who actually know you.”

“You really believe them? You think I’m out there, risking everything for some—” He stopped himself, biting his tongue.

“Do I? I don’t even know my own husband anymore. Maybe I should ask them. Or maybe I should ask you directly, Satoru. Are you seeing someone?”

“Why are we even doing this?”

“Because I want the truth. Just once. I deserve that much, don’t I?”

“Believe what you want, Hana. I don’t have anything else to say.”

“Then maybe that’s all I need to know.”

Gojou stormed out of his apartment, his hands clenching and unclenching as he tried to shake off his frustration. He'd had enough for one night. His heart was pounding and the last thing he wanted was to be alone with his thoughts. He needed to get out, to drown the anger with something that could at least help him forget.

The bar he found was tucked away down a dim side street in Shibuya. It wasn't anything fancy–a dark cry from the glitzy nightlife he was used to–but it was dark and quiet which was exactly what he needed. He slid onto a bar stool and motioned for a drink, not bothering to pay attention to what the bartender poured.

He sipped his drink in silence, trying to tune out the night and all the noise in his head. The alcohol burned down his throat, but it was a welcome distraction that numbed his anger and frustration. He was almost on his third drink when he noticed someone sitting in the corner of the room, hunched over a notebook, tapping her pen against her cheek in thought.

She's cute, he thought to himself. He squinted trying to get a better look at the young woman, and he immediately recognized, it was you.

Of all the places he'd expect to see you, this shitty bar wasn't one of them. You looked so absorbed in your work, like you were piecing together something for a story. Satoru's curiosity got the better of him, and he stood up carrying his drink as he made his way over to where you were sitting.

"Well, well," he said, leaning against the back of the chair across from you. “Didn’t peg you for a bar rat, but maybe I was wrong.”

Your head snapped up, and your eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Gojou Satoru. What a surprise.”

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, already taking the seat.

“Didn’t think someone like you would end up in a place like this. Celebrating?”

He gave a dry laugh, swirling the glass in his hand. “Something like that.”

“So, what are you doing here, really? Figured you’d be at a fancy cafe, writing about some important news story.”

“Maybe I am. Research is research, even if it’s in a bar. Maybe it’s you I’m writing about.”

“So I’m your new project, huh?”

“Maybe. It’s part of this little journalism course I’m doing. We’re supposed to pick a public figure and write a profile. Someone who’s got a… colorful public image.”

“Colorful, huh?” He smirked. “Guess I’m your lucky target. Hope I make an interesting subject."

“Interesting is one word for it,” you replied, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. “What’s got you so quiet tonight? I thought you’d be surrounded by fans somewhere.”

He shrugged, taking a long sip of his drink. “Not in the mood for fans tonight.”

“Tough race?”

He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head. “Not the race. Just… life, I guess.”

“So,” he said, leaning in. “tell me about this little journalism course. You planning to make a career out of stalking poor drivers like me?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that. We’re learning how to ‘uncover the truth’—or at least, that’s what they say. So far, it’s been a lot of digging through archives and learning to ask the right questions.”

“Right questions, huh?” He arched an eyebrow. “Let’s hear one. What would you ask me, if I were your ‘colorful public figure’?”

“Alright, Gojou. How does someone at the top of their game manage to keep it all together? All the races, the publicity, the pressure… don’t you ever feel like it’s too much?”

“Honestly?” He ran a hand through his hair, glancing away. “Sometimes, yeah. It’s not as easy as it looks, being the guy everyone thinks has it all together. But people don’t care about that part. They just want the show.”

“So you put on the show.”

“Guess that’s what it comes down to.” He laughed, but it sounded hollow even to his own ears. “People don’t want to see a guy crack under pressure. They want the image.”

“But what do you want?”

No one ever asked him that, as if what he wanted didn’t matter.

“What do I want?” he repeated, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as he tried to dodge the question. “Maybe another drink.”

I’m serious. Behind all of that… what’s left?”

“Honestly? Sometimes I don’t even know anymore. It’s like I’ve been going so fast for so long, I can’t remember what it was I was chasing in the first place.”

“Maybe that’s what you need to figure out, then.”

He looked at you, and the faintest trace of a genuine smile broke through. “Maybe.”

The two of you sat in silence, and he found himself grateful for it. You didn't press or pry at him and he thought that he could just be himself, even if it was just for a little while.

“Alright,” he said finally, nudging your notebook with his finger. “So, future journalist, you really gonna write all this down? Make me sound like some tortured artist?”

You smirked. “I’ll try to be kind. Maybe I’ll even leave out the part where you go to bars alone and pretend to be mysterious.”

“Ouch,” he chuckled, holding up his drink in mock surrender. “Noted. But I expect a copy when it’s published. Autographed, obviously.”

“Obviously,” you replied, laughing as you clinked your glass against his. “But don’t expect it to be flattering.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As the conversation continued, Gojou found himself leaning in closer. You both let the drinks keep coming, though it was less about how much alcohol you were consuming and more about the way the words spilled more easily between you two.

“So,” you asked, taking another sip of your drink, “what’s it actually like out there? Everyone sees the fame, the money, the cars, but… what’s it really like?”

He exhaled, tapping his fingers on the edge of his glass. “Honestly? It’s… intense. There’s this high to it, this adrenaline. Nothing like it. You’re pushing yourself and everyone around you to the edge," he tilted his head. “But sometimes, it feels like the line between winning and crashing out isn’t as thick as people think. You cross it once, and that’s it—you’re done.”

“Doesn’t that scare you?”

“A little. But I’m more afraid of what happens if I stop. It’s like… I don’t know what I’d be without it. Guess that sounds stupid.”

“No, it doesn’t. I get it. When something’s all you know… giving it up is like giving up a part of yourself. Scary as hell.”

“Exactly. Guess we all have our addictions, huh?”

Shit. Did he say too much?

You didn’t push, just gave him a quiet nod. “So, what’s Tokyo Jujutsu like? It's one of the toughest team on the grid, right?”

“You know it. They’re tough as hell, no room for error. And they sure as hell won’t give you a second chance if you mess up.”

“Sounds brutal."

“Yeah, maybe. I guess I like the challenge. Or maybe I just like proving people wrong.”

“Enough about me," he continued. What about you? What’s the deal with this journalism project? Are you trying to make a name for yourself by exposing all my secrets?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Believe it or not, my goal in life isn’t to ruin yours. I actually think it’s fascinating, learning what drives people, what keeps them going, even when things get messy.”

“Messy? What makes you think my life is messy?”

“Oh, please. Gojou Satoru’s life is one headline after another. You’re practically the poster boy for drama.”

He feigned a hurt expression, placing a hand over his heart. “You wound me. I’m just a guy trying to make a living, you know?”

“Right,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Just a guy who happens to have a dozen scandals and an equal number of speeding tickets.”

“Hey,” he laughed, leaning back in his chair. “I’m a professional, okay? That’s all part of the job.”

The two of you continued to chat into the night. Gojou found himself relaxing, caught up in the rare comfort of talking with someone who didn’t expect him to play a part. He could just… be.

At some point, the bartender announced last call, and Gojou glanced at you, smirking. “Guess that’s our cue.”

You stretched, gathering your notebook and tucking it under your arm. “Thanks for the, uh, ‘research material.’ It was… enlightening.”

He laughed, standing and grabbing his coat. “Anytime. But don’t go making me look like a complete asshole in your little project, alright?”

“No promises."

Outside, the air was crisp as he faint hum of city traffic the only sound as you stood together on the quiet street. Gojou slid his hands into his pockets, looking at you.

Outside, the air was crisp as the faint him of the city being the only sound as you stood together on the quiet street. Gojou slide his hands into his pockets, looking at you.

“Maybe we’ll run into each other again."

“Only if you’re brave enough to handle more questions.”

“Oh, I’m plenty brave. But we’ll see if you’re as good at digging as you think.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you turned to leave, throwing him a casual wave. “Goodnight, Mr. Gojou.”

“Goodnight,” he echoed, watching as you disappeared down the empty street.

In that moment he realized, he never did catch your name.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojou satoru x y/n #gojou satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojo saturo #satoru gojo #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen au #gojo fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you

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ricciardo133 · 6 days ago

Text

Winter Break 2025

maxiel, weight gain, body worship, pregnancy briefly alluded to

Daniel always loves the way Max looks during the winter months. As Max steps into Daniel's Monaco apartment, Daniel eyes the tight fit of Max's running shorts along his softening hips.

"So, you have new merch?" Max asks, oblivious to Daniel's ogling. Daniel snaps to attention and follows Max into the living room.

"Well, obviously. As your new sponsor, we gotta make a whole Verstappen collection," Daniel adds with jazz hands for pizazz. "And I wanted to get your approval before we send the designs to print and you're stuck wearing all this for a year."

"It can look like anything," Max says, unbothered.

"Oh, good. I'll tell them we're a go on the Enchanté-branded assless chaps."

Max laughs, eyes crinkling in mirth. "Yeah, perfect for Media Day. I assume there is a matching cowboy hat."

Daniel feels his cheeks flush, picturing Max actually wearing that combination and nothing else.

"Just try on the samples and humor me, Maxy."

Thankfully, he's now not the only one blushing. They've been friends for long enough to know how to edge the unspoken line without ever crossing it, neither ever making that final push to send them spiraling onto one side or the other.

"Yeah, alright," Max says. "I'll do a fashion show."

Daniel claps and leads Max over to the dining room table where an already-opened cardboard box holds an assortment of red, blue, white, and orange apparel. He holds up one of the pull-overs, assessing which to try first.

"They're just the rough drafts, so let me know if you think they look like ass."

"No, Daniel, they look very cool. I like the classic look. And the big "É." Very you."

Daniel feels his dick twitch in his pants, thinking of Max branded with his label, marked as his, for the world to see. He tosses the shirt into Max's arms and pulls out a pair of summery shorts to match. "Just give these a spin. I sent them your size, so they should fit."

Daniel has seen how deep the flush can go over the years, like an old-timey thermometer measuring of how flustered his younger friend can get. He bites his full lips as his neck turns pink.

"I, uh, might be a bit bigger right now. But they'll fit for Melbourne. I'll look better."

"You look great now, Max."

Max spins on his heels and into the adjacent half-bath, door closing, as if Daniel hadn't seen him almost naked before. Daniel sits on the barstool at the kitchen island.

Sometimes he hates gooning this fucking horny friendship line and wishes he could just buck up the nerve to say something. Anything. Maybe now that they're not somewhat teammates, it'd be okay? Or is it inappropriate for a patron to think about cupping their client's ass and spreading his soft flesh-

"Okay, remember, they'll fit better in a few months."

Daniel looks up and feels his body tighten as he takes in the sight of him. Max squirms in the pull-over, zipper done all the way up. The orange sleeves hug his full arms, and the white, soft fabric stretches tight along his chest. Oh God, his tits, Daniel thinks guiltily before trying and failing to think about the design aspect of all this and not how Max's soft stomach pulls the pullover's fabric taught. His fuller belly peeks over the top of the shorts. His hips, always seemingly begging to be held, curve and slope down to full thighs. Max shaved. His normally fuzzy legs smooth as he shifts his weight on one bare foot to the other.

"I know," Max says, voice nervy. "It happens every year. I'm on holiday, but I'll get better."

"Don't say that," Daniel gets up. He feels the line veering closer, like pushing too hard on a circuit he knows by heart. He stops just an inch beyond appropriateness. "You look great."

"Daniel." He can't parse the pleading note in Max's voice, something shaky.

"You always look so good this way," Daniel goes on, watching Max's big blue gaze get thrown in starker contrast as his cheeks flush again. Max even shaved his face. He looks so young, like when he was his teamma-

"Daniel," Max says again. "I just feel too big."

"You're perfect, Max. You normally don't wear these things zipped all the way up, though. More like this,"

The line. Daniel crosses it, fingers gently pulling the pull-over's zipper down at an agonizingly slow rate. He didn't realize Max was holding his breath until he shudders a shaky exhale.

"Does it feel good?" Daniel asks, hands trailing up the sleeves, feeling the soft fabric casing Max's biceps.

"Yes. It's good."

"And not too tight here?" Daniel lets his hands draw inwards along Max's chest. Seeing he's already blown past the point of no return, he lets his palms rest over Max's full breasts. "Is it okay?"

Max nods, fast. Through parted reddened lips, Daniel sees Max's perfect, glistening tongue against his straight teeth.

Daniel squeezes. Max keens, a note Daniel has never heard from the other man. He rubs, making gentle circles over hardening nipples.

"Oh, Daniel," Max whispers.

"Maxy," Daniel returns, hands trailing lower, feeling the full rise of his belly. "Breathe."

Max acquiesces, belly shuddering. Daniel relishes the soft, pliable skin below the warm fabric.

"You look so good like this, Max," he says, stepping even closer. He lets his gaze dip, feeling Max's head lower to rest their foreheads together as Daniel stares at his soft belly. He rubs gentle lines around it, dick hardening as Max lets his body go even softer. He could even look three months pregnant, how round and full he fills out the top.

Max whispers his name again and then again as Daniel pulls up the fabric and finally touches smooth skin and then once more as Daniel's fingers dip into the waistband of the shorts, exploring back as Daniel presses flush to squeeze his hands into Max's full, soft ass.

"You deserve to feel good," Daniel says into Max's ear, words falling on the red nape of his neck. "At every weight, you deserve to be so fucking worshiped, Max."

"Oh my God, Daniel."

Daniel squeezes again, more firmly this time as he traces up to hold his pillowy hips. They always look so bitable in his fireproofs, and now they're filling out even more in the too-tight shorts, begging to be gripped. To be used for everything Daniel has wanted for years.

"I know," Daniel says, suddenly self-conscious, "this is, uh, a lot."

"It's good," Max asserts, his own hands flying to Daniel's back as if to keep him in place. "If it's good for you."

Daniel snorts a laugh, letting his hips rut forwards. His stiff cock meets Max's soft thigh. Max whines.

"More than good, Maxy." He presses his lips into heated, soft skin at Max's shoulder. "You're perfect like this. So fucking perfect." He reels at Max pressing his own hard length into Daniel's hips. It's bliss. Max's body, warm and eager and full and, for now, his.

"Alright, so, should I try on the others?" Max asks, a gentle mirth in his tone.

"Yeah, let me help you take these off first."

#maxiel #tagging with only the ship at the moment!!#ah my first rpf pancake #absolutely due to the supercross merch 🙂‍↕️#and my love for soft Max

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whumpetywhumpwhump · 3 months ago

Text

The long awaited pt2 to the pneumonia/intubation Whump post (this one)...

Caretaker's glad Whumpee's so out of it from all the meds they're on. If they were more aware, they'd likely be terrified.

After all, the equipment that the doctors are pulling over on carts, laying out on the sheets, is enough to make Caretaker feel nauseous- they keep eyeing the metal device the doctor checks over, the one that muted whispers have denoted as the 'laryngoscope'.

They sit beside Whumpee's bed (they're allowed to for the time being, until Whumpee's actually asleep and the real procedure has to begin), holding the hand that hasn't been invaded by a cannula site. A nurse is positioned at Whumpee's other side already pumping them full of drugs that have Whumpee drifting, eyes open but barely there. Caretaker strokes their hair, giving them a wobbly smile as yet another dose of something or other is pushed into Whumpee's cannula.

"I'm right here, whumpee. I'm right here with you, sweetheart. Just try to relax."

The latter message is more for themselves than Whumpee, if they're honest. They're the one with a racing heartbeat- Whumpee's is slower now, as indicated by the dull beep-beep of the monitor they're hooked up to. Their breaths are slower too, so shallow that if they weren't already due to be intubated, Caretaker would be slamming on the emergency button.

"Propofol's going in now." One of the doctors says. Caretaker knows enough to understand that this means sleep, for Whumpee, is imminent.

Sure enough, within seconds of the syringe's plunger being pushed down, a glaze enters Whumpee's eyes, the lids becoming heavy. They open their mouth, tongue darting out to wet chapped lips for a moment as if they want to speak, but Caretaker, unshed tears in their eyes, shushes them gently.

"Hey, just sleep now, alright? Everyone's looking after you. Sweet dreams, Whumpee. Night night."

Whumpee's glassy gaze fixes on Caretaker's, narrowing and narrowing as their eyes drift closer to being closed until...

Out.

Caretaker leans forward, lower lip trembling slightly, and kisses Whumpee on the forehead, just as the doctor steps up behind them.

"Alright, we're gonna get started now. it's probably easier for you to wait outside and-"

"No." Caretaker interjects, tears nearly spilling over. "Sorry, no, I- I need to be here. I won't... I won't get in your way, I promise, I just- I need to be here for them."

And so they remain. They remain when the doctors place the mask over Whumpee's face, murmuring to each other about sats and correct timings. They remain when the principal anaesthesiologist brushes a fingertip below Whumpee's eyelashes, checking for movement and finding none. They remain when the same anesthesiologist stands behind Whumpee's head, removes the mask and tilts Whumpee's chin towards them, gently pulling open their mouth and sliding the laryngoscope in.

The blade slips into place too easily, Caretaker thinks. there's too little resistance. Whumpee should be gagging, thrashing about, screaming for help, but instead they lay unconscious and unmoving as it's driven deep into their throat, pushing their tongue out of the way to give the doctors a clear view of their vocal cords.

"Tube." the anesthesiologist says tersely. That long snaking tube, already lubricated, is placed atop a gloved palm.

Caretaker is tempted to look away as it's inserted, but their eyes are fixed. They watch as it's threaded past the laryngoscope, through the opening of the vocal cords that only the doctor can see. They watch as it slots fully into place and the anesthesiologist adjusts it, leaving it to rest against Whumpee's lower lip for only a moment before the cuff is inflated and the ventilator is hooked up to it instead.

And as the circuit is completed, Caretaker would think Whumpee dead- their eyes are closed, everything is so still, and whenever the tube needs a slight adjustment, they're floppy beneath the touch of the adjuster. Only when Caretaker looks closer do they see the continual, regular fogging of the tube with each assisted breath Whumpee takes- a sign that they're living, at least.

The anesthesiologist glances over at the screen, which to Caretaker looks merely like a smattering of numbers and wave forms.

"We've got N tidal CO2. Everything's connected. Secure the tube and continue to monitor."

With that, they step away, their primary task complete, and a nurse steps in instead- already equipped with an ET tube holder. Caretaker watches them gently press one of the sticky pads against Whumpee's cheek, then moving to the other cheek to apply the other pad. Between them, the tube is secured in place, and at last Whumpee is... Whumpee is...

Caretaker doesn't even realise they've moved to the bedside until they shakily lower themselves into the seat there, listening to the wooshing of the ventilator and the beeping of so many monitors.

Whumpee is... sick. really sick.

They've known it for a long time, of course, but seeing Whumpee intubated, sedated in an intensive care unit, their cheeks pale, sweat beading on their brow... it hammers reality home even further.

Home.

Whumpee isn't going to be going home for a long while yet.

#whump #whump prompts #prompts #sicknario #sickfic #sickfic whump #whump prompt #med whump #intubation #intubation whump #pneumonia whump #medical whump

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drvscarlett · 3 months ago

Text

About You Pt 13

Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

About You Series

A/N: I am so sorry for the long hiatus because my laptop died and I have to get it fixed. About You will be in consistent updates starting next week every Wednesday and Thursday. I am actually planning to extend the chapters of About You up to Chap 18 because I messed up the pacing. I hope you enjoy this and let me know your thoughts

Taglist: @spideybv28@randomcuboidshape @mehrmonga @casperlikej @cliosunshine @honethatty12 @randomgirlnumber-13 @sugyomama @ririyulife @skywalker1dream @vicurious28 @khaylin27 @0710khj @its-elias-world @vizzzashley @allisonwoods @taytaylala12 @miarabanana @ceciii-b @lindsayjoy444 @mploopssek @snakelore @toldyouitwasamelodrama @lordpercevalcharles

2013, Marina Bay Street Circuit

Sebastian was on an all-time high, he was winning on and off tracks. The championship was within his reach with each race he wins and his personal life is flourishing. He had felt the championship euphoria before but being in that podium and seeing Y/N proudly looking at him from below is something else.

Despite the energy burst, he opted to stay out of the Singapore night life and return to his hotel room. He didn't feel like mingling in sweaty clubs or the taste of intoxicating drinks tonight. Besides, he has a dinner at a skyline restaurant with a very beautiful girl so he has to change quickly.

Whistling down a happy tune as he texts a message to Y/N. There was nothing in this world that could ever ruin his happiness and that was a word spoken to soon.

When he turns the corner, there was someone that Sebastian didn't want to see.

"Oh Sebastian, thank God. I have to speak to you and its really important-"

"Hanna? What are you doing here?"

Sebastian's voice was mixed with confusion and anger. The past few meetings with Hanna was not a good memory for Sebastian and he could only feel as if trouble follows whenever he meets her.

"Are you stalking me?"the driver asked

The woman in front of him went red in embarrassment. She could understand why Sebastian would think that way but she was in a desperate attempt to talk to him.

"I know this looks bad but I had a friend here who told me where you would be staying and I needed to talk to you. I wouldn't have done this if it wasn't important"Hanna rambled.

"Didn't I make myself clear last time that Hanna I do not return any feelings for you and I'm really sorry if you thought a relationship could blossom between us because its never going to happen"Sebastian stated.

It would be a lie if Sebastian didn't notice how Hanna winced by the directness of his voice but he has to keep his boundaries. He doesn't want anything more to jeopardize what he is working on with Y/N. He will not be a man that will be unfaithful to her.

"But Sebastian, you have to listen. This is something big and this is something that I can't do alone"Hanna was begging.

"I'm sorry Hanna but whatever that is, I'm sorry but I couldn't be of any help"Sebastian ended the conversation.

He passed her by and shut the door in front of her. It was painful for Sebastian to hear the cries of his once childhood friend at the other side of the door but she has to learn that Sebastian cannot return her feelings back.

"You're not even listening to me Seb. You didn't even give me a chance to tell you about us"Hanna thought silently cradling the bump on her stomach.

2013, Suzuka Circuit

It was Y/N's dream to go to Universals Studio Japan to see the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. She mentioned this a couple of times but due to the distance between the circuit and Osaka, she always missed the opportunity.

"I still can't believe that you are taking me to Harry Potter"Y/N squealed, excitement was evident on her face.

"We still have a long way to go, they told me its a 2 hour drive" Sebastian noted "You can still grab some sleep"

"I should be the one telling you that, you just finished driving for the weekend and now you are driving at an ungodly hour of 7 in the morning"Y/N voices her concern "Don't you ever get tired of driving?"

"For you? Never"

Sebastian's hand found its way to Y/N's and he placed a gentle kiss. His eyes were still focused on driving and the road but he could see in the mirror the red tint on her cheeks.

For some it would be tiring to go on long drives. Sebastian thinks otherwise, he feels like he is the luckiest man alive to be able to go for long drives when she is at the passenger side.

"Do you have a list of which part of the Harry Potter world are we going first?" Sebastian wondered.

"Well maybe we could go and get some of those butterbeers and then we can explore the whole park. I wanted to try that rollercoaster that looks like Hagrid's bike and then the castle. I also want to buy some candies for Mick"Y/N listed down.

She looked up from her phone and she felt like she was being selfish not asking Sebastian about what he wanted to do. She wanted to do a face palm.

"That is if its alright with you? Maybe you want to go somewhere specific in Universals?"Y/N offered.

"Oh no, its alright. I'm good wherever you are happy. This is your day and I want you to enjoy the whole Harry Potter experience"Sebastian insisted.

Y/N thought he couldn't love Sebastian even more but she just did. She knew how Sebastian was not that big of a fan of Harry Potter, he didn't even know the names of the golden trio in the beginning. He just started to get into it because she was rambling all the time about it.

"Speaking of the Harry Potter experience, you can check the backseat because I believe there is a surprise for you there"Sebastian chuckles.

At the backseat, Y/N found two boxes. One has her name on it with a big black bow ribbon while the other had a scribbled vettel on it. She picked it up confused to what is Sebastian plotting now.

"Since when did you get all fancy?"

"I asked my Mom about it"Sebastian admits "Go and open it"

Once the bows were untied and the lid was lifted, there was a rustle of wrapping paper. Y/N couldn't believe her eyes upon seeing the emblem on the cloth.

"You got me robes?"Y/N can cry "And you got my house right!"

Sebastian will admit that he researched a couple of days ago about how to make this experience really special. Some said that the school robes was a good outfit to make the person feel like they are attending Hogwarts. He made some few calls here and there then tada he acquired some of the Hogwarts robes just like what was seen in the movies.

"So did you get a Slytherin robe?"Y/N asked, she often teased Sebastian that he could be F1's Draco Malfoy.

"Well I think I had to surrender, my Pottermore results said that I was a Slytherin"

"You took a Pottermore quiz and you didn't tell me right away?"

2013, Buddh International Circuit

The Taj Mahal looks exquisite with the sun setting at the back of it. Everyone was on their phones or their cameras to capture the moment but Y/N prefers sitting at one of the benches and preserving it in her head. There was something really peaceful to just live in the moment but she doesn't blame if people wanted something physical to commemorate this moment.

Maybe Y/N wanted to savor this moment of peace because by tomorrow she will be back in the paddock with all the different noises. She knows that there will be a lot of questions in the next few days following Mark's decision of leaving Formula 1.

She did not blame Mark, she understands that he has been doing this for quite some time now and he was bound to be burned out. She has also been thinking about retiring from this job but that would be happening in a few more years. The thought of retiring scares her because her life basically revolved around Formula 1. There was this idea that maybe if she doesn't have a job here then maybe she will lose everything that she have right now.

A heavy sigh escapes her mouth as she zoned out once more with the view.

"Mind if I join you?"

Y/N looked up and she saw the familiar grin of Sebastian Vettel. She gave a nod and gestured at the empty space at the bench.

"How did you know I was here?"Y/N asked.

"I didn't. We are doing some team video and then I spotted you here then I went ahead to say hello"Sebastian grins.

From behind Sebastian, she sees a filming crew at a distance. They seem to be distracted with Mark and the reserve driver Sebastien Buemi. Y/N acknowledges it with a smile then she proceeded to looking at the scenic view in front of her.

"You know when they told me about the Taj Mahal, I got reminded of us"Sebastian opened up "The two met when they were young and its love at first sight then they got married"

The thought of the very first time that Y/N saw Sebastian and the first time they talked to each other, crossed her mind. It seems like it was just yesterday but its been a really really long while now.

"And I don't believe in coincidences, I think some things are meant to happen"Sebastian stated "When I saw you here, I was given the sign of the universe and maybe a sign from Taj Mahal that its really you that I would like to spend the rest of my days with"

Y/N felt overwhelmed by the direct confession. This was usually how Sebastian is, he was very vocal about his feelings but the implication in his tone is different. Y/N felt like they are moving a bit too fast but maybe she doesn't mind at all.

A small box was placed in her hand.

"This was my Mother's. I carried it around with me since we started to tell each other how we feel. I am not asking you to marry me but I just wanted you to have it because someday I'm planning to marry you."Sebastian concludes.

"Seb, I can't.. This is too much" she was speechless.

"There is no other woman that I see myself ending up with" Sebastian insist "Its yours just like how my heart is also yours"

The silver band with a pearl in the middle stares at her. She ponders about it even after Sebastian left her side. This was technically not a marriage proposal but rather a promise ring.

She prayed for a sign in the weekends whether she deserves to place it on her finger or not.

Needless to say, it was a very eventful weekend for Sebastian. He crossed the finish line with a World Championship. Even after winning all these years, he was still amazed by the winning feeling.

The crowd chants his name as he shows his praises to his winning car. He managed to find his way to the podium with the congratulations littering everywhere he go and every face was a blur.

However, he had to do a double take as he saw Y/N on the barrier. She was wearing a proud grin and pointing at something in her finger. Sebastian didn't have to be a genius to recognize the familiar ring on her finger.

It was a memorable weekend.

2013, Yas Marina Circuit

It was rare that Y/N gets to hang out with girls. Being surrounded by a lot of male bravado and testosterones can be a little too much which is why when there is an opportunity for her to meet another girl friend then she will make time.

Post qualifying sessions was a good opportunity as Jenson chooses to rest while the Red Bull boys are stuck in strategy meetings. Therefore, this was Y/N's window time to accommodate Hanna's request for dinner.

She couldn't wait to tell Hanna about the recent happenings with Sebastian or the latest gossip in the paddock. She was pretty sure that she might shock Hanna with the development of her love life. However Y/N was the one with a jaw drop when Hanna waddled in with a pregnant bump.

"Oh my God Hanna! Why didn't you tell me your pregnant?"Y/N was shocked "Are you okay or are you tired? Did you need to sit down?"

Hanna gives a weak smile, "just a little water"

"Of course,here. Sit sit."Y/N fuzzed "If I had known you were pregnant then I would have made reservations closer to your hotel"

"Y/N you're already treating me dinner"Hanna said

"I should be because I think I have been late in congratulating your little one"Y/N replied.

Hanna held her bump protectively. She was suddenly reminded the reason why she asked to meet Y/N. She was doing this to help her little one because she cannot afford that her child will grow up miserable.

"How far along are you?"Y/N wondered.

"About six… six months"there was an unease in Hanna's tone.

Hanna knows what she did and she knows what she is about to do. It plagues her mind how she could wipe the smile Y/N has right now with the bombshell of news that she has. Hanna blanks out as Y/N ramble about how she is so happy for her and the guilty feeling sinks even further.

"Y/N I have to talk to you"Hanna cuts her off.

It was better to rip the Band-Aid early than prolonging the agony.

"Oh we can talk later,lets get you some food first"Y/N dismissed. "I don't want you or your little one getting hungry."

The way that Y/N cares so much about Hanna makes the pregnant woman even more uneasy. Hanna noted how Y/N was so caring in asking her preference and she wonders if she would still be like that if she finally learns the truth.

Dinner went on smoothly with their chitchats of how life has been and how they are dealing with the changes. As time goes on, Hanna felt the gnawing guilt eating her even more which is why the minute the tables were cleared and the desserts were out, it was now time.

"I really need to talk to you about this Y/N"Hanna gestured at the bump.

There was a glee in Y/N's eyes, maybe she was thinking that Hanna is making her a godparent. Hanna tried her best to avoid her eyes because she cannot handle when her eyes starts crying.

"Now what do you want to talk about?"Y/N questioned.

"Im pregnant Y/N"it was now or never for Hanna.

If she could just change how things were then she wouldn't have been so stupid. She wouldn't have been in this situation right now and she wouldn't lose such a great friend like Y/N. However, this was a consequence of her selfish actions and now she will pay for it.

"I am well aware of that Hanna"Y/N grinned "and congratulations by the way. You should totally let me help you find some cute baby stuffs and-"

"The father is Seb"

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #sebastian vettel x reader #about you series #sebastian vettel angst #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel fluff

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zhongrin · 2 years ago

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to be yours

◇ characters ◇ zhongli, al haitham, childe, ayato, thoma, kaeya, wanderer, diluc

◇ tags ◇ minors dni, fluff, collar, nothing explicit is happening but it's very suggestive, diluc is so soggy in this but i’m not sorry

◇ a/n ◇ "but rin didn't you already write something similar to this with zhongli?" sHUT UP. SHUSH. SILENCE. /j

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

when you called his name so excitedly and said that you had something to show him, he didn’t think he would see you with a collar…. and is that his initials?

… oh.

oh.

zhongli tries so very hard to be a gentleman, but you can feel the urgency, the impatience in the slight bite of his fingers against your skin as he pulls you into a searing kiss. the loud purrs rumbling from his throat a telltale sign that your majestic dragon is exceedingly happy at your little present… maybe a little too happy, judging from the hardness pressing against your thigh...

hmm.

yes, the cor lapis gem on it is a nice touch, indeed.

“ah- apologies, my dear. how ungentlemanly of me… but i simply must express how much adoration i have for you at this present time.”

childe has a silly grin on his lips as he admires the accessory with his fingers. his blue eyes are hooded when he finally meets your gaze and his chapped lips persistently attack yours, an invitation to a heated battle of dominance; one you wouldn’t certainly mind losing, but you know the way you fight against him will turn him on even more.

you suppose you can indulge him... for now.

let’s see how he fares when you bring out his collar with your initials.

“y-you-for me? fuck… o-of course i’ll put it on, baby…. but won’t you help me wear it? please?”

al haitham snorts and folds his arms in front of his delicious treat of a chest, one of his eyebrows cocking up in mock arrogance, a contrast to your sweet demeanor.

he wants you to explain your choice of accessory, he says - nay, demands. and yet not even a minute into your horribly awkward speech, it’s his fingers that hook onto the leather to drag you onto his lap, right on the edge of your shared bed. there’s a certain glint in his eyes, and only then it clicks to you. he’s in that kind of mood today, it seems.

oh dear. you might want to prepare yourself to call in sick tomorrow…

“oh no, continue with your explanation, don’t mind me. i am capable enough to multitask between listening to you and leaving more… direct and indisputable versions of my marks on you.”

ayato has to blink a few times to make sure it wasn’t his sleep-deprived brain causing hallucinations after working for nearly thirty-two hours straight.

but when it sinks on him that you’re actually wearing a collar, with the kamisato clan’s sigil and his initials embellished proudly on the high-quality material - just like a loyal puppy waiting for praise from their owner - it’s like he just woke up from the most satisfying power nap he’s ever had his whole life. you find yourself pinned onto his desk seconds later, your master cooing over how adorable you look in your new outfit and how you’ll look even more the part with all your clothes off and stuffed full of his cock.

“what a good pet. my good little pet…”

thoma erupts into a thomato billion shades of reds that complement his outfit.

his brain is short-circuiting. his tongue fumbles like a three years old trying to speak words. his hands are awkwardly hovering in the air as he tries to make sense of everything.

when he finally gets his wits back, he launches into his mother-hen mode. not exactly the result you wanted, but you can work with it. you have your precious boyfriend wrapped around your fingers after all.

“d-does it not hurt? it’s not too tight, right? if it’s hard for you to adjust the length, i can help you to- what?! no, no, you misunderstand- wait, no! i don’t mean that i didn’t want to put it on you, i just- arghh, s-stop teasing me!”

kaeya blinks once, twice, and the third time is accompanied by a sultry smirk spreading over his kissable lips. he chuckles, a deep vibration that sends shivers down your spine as he eyes you like a hungry panther scouting a potential feast.

before you know it he’s had you pinned against the wall of his office, and his fingers are teasingly rubbing your jaw and under your ear, his hot breath mingling with yours as his cologne overwhelmed your senses. a knee slides between your legs and rubs against your clothed crotch, and your lover eagerly swallows your yelp with a deep kiss that speaks volumes about what he plans to do with you.

“ah, perfect. a distraction from work. lord barbatos must have seen me toil over these boring paperwork and took pity on me by giving me such a nice present. all wrapped up so nicely with a name tag to match, too…”

wanderer stares at the initials in disbelief for a full ten seconds before glaring at you. scathing words leave his lips like a fully loaded revolver, but you’re made of the thickest steel and you’re more perceptive than most - well, at least when it comes to your beloved puppet lover - so you can see the indicative ways of his joy: the slight nervous shifts of his legs, the way he’s scratching his arm for grounding himself, and most of all, the way his eyes looked at anything but the said ‘vile object’…

he’s so silly, you think fondly.

guess it’s time to play the ‘which buttons to push to break his act’ game yet again.

“you’re so embarrassing. a fucking collar, really? what are you, some kind of a mutt? and with the initials of that stupid name you gave me? what, you wanna tell the world that you’re my pet or something? hah! why don’t you bark for me then? …. w-wha- s-stop barking, idiot! what is wrong with you?!”

diluc takes a full minute to fully understand. his brain is failing to connect the dots even though he’s literally staring at the accessory.

it’s only when you point out and explain it all to him that his breath hitches. redness as bright as his hair creeps onto his cheeks, and he has to cover the lower half of his face-

wait-

are those tears in his eyes?!

“it’s… nice? i suppose. i know you will look nice in whatever you wear, beloved. your sense of fashion is impeccable in my eyes, and i- hmm? ….. oh…….. OH. i-ahem-i see. i-ah-no! no, these aren’t- they’re just…. i’m sorry, dear- i just.... feel so…. so…. loved…”

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inspectorspacetimerevisited · 4 days ago

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Have you ever noticed how when the Blorgons or Circuit Chaps (or any other adversary) shoot at someone or something,

the ‘laser beams’ they emit take an awfully long time to reach their targets?

#Inspector Spacetime #Slow Laser (trope)#Slow Laser #Blorgons #Circuit Chaps #any other adversary #shoot at someone #with laser beams #take an awfully long time #to reach their targets #time dilation?#just because it looks cool #Rule of Cool #or to increase the tension #Dramatic Tension (trope)#Dramatic Tension #Reality Is Unrealistic

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cr4yolaas · 5 months ago

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blue spring — remember to be patient!

prev: caving in | masterlist | next: until we’re old and wrinkly

𝜗𝜚 this is really a filler chapter in my head

𝜗𝜚 hoping and praying on my knees that someone notices the omori references i've littered throughout this smau

𝜗𝜚 i love omori sm. genuinely my favorite game of all time, alongside the entire loz franchise (i love loz sm)

𝜗𝜚 also about a month has passed since the last chapter if u couldnt tell (yn's exhibit went on for all of may) and since kageyama's confession they've been very stagnant (for the reasons yn and kags explained). for the past month yn has been attending her exhibit every monday, catching up with her late work (which resulted from the exhibit), and studying for her finals (which is going horribly. never double major in two completely unrelated things)

𝜗𝜚 speaking of yn's double major the reason why she's majoring in both art and environmental engineering is because she knew she needed a career to fall back on in case her art career didn't go very well. so she picked stem (she's an academic weapon)

𝜗𝜚 anyways kags did tell her he'd wait but he's slowly and surely losing patience he wants her so bad </3 hence the title (which is an omori ost reference)

𝜗𝜚 sorry guys i just love omori sm yn is so omori coded to me

𝜗𝜚 all of their friends genuinely did think they were already a couple and were just keeping it on the dl but in truth they're in a "talking stage" sort of thing

𝜗𝜚 a while back (between the events of last chap and this chap) yn realized she didn't know kag's full name. she liked the way tobio sounded more than kageyama so she changed it and gave him a cat pfp (in reference to one of the earlier chapters). he may or may not have short-circuited in response

𝜗𝜚 yachi does use yn's achievements as a means to get everyone to hang out but she really does just want to congratulate her friend LOL

taglist: @mfcherry @eggyrocks @scxrcherr @yuminako @girlkissersco @diorzs @causenessus @kyo-kyo1 @k0z3me @shironagi @lovingvi @bunninio @hisfuture @lilchubbyyy @gsyche @ghostreader0307 @fiannee @minimarkive

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sinning-23 · 1 year ago

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Net Pt.2 (Shanks x Siren!Reader)

someone asked for part two and it blew up so uhhh here part two for my shanks loving bbgrls!

warnings: definelty pron with plot lol, tension, kissing, intense touching, p in v, never been touch, slow and gentle smeggs. uhh yeah, loss of virginity? Sorta?

Pt.1 Found Here

You gasp, feeling his hands slide under the fabric of your shirt. Cold. You huff at the feeling, breathless at his touch. Your lips don't stop, the two of you just barely separating for air before going back to being stuck like glue.

"Will you?" He asks, eyes soft and pleading desperate.

Stay with him? Live this life of piracy and be protected and loved by him? Be held and kissed and touch in places you'd yet to discover on yourself? Youd be a fool to say no.

Like clumsy young adults you sprint with one another to his quarters, the door locking before he's back on you, whimpers and moans just as musical as the creaky floorboards when you're backed against his bed.

Fear settles in your heart, well no, not fear, anxiety. He can see it and only kissed the top of your head, slowing his pace.

“Slow. Okay guppy?” He smiles, seeing you nod.

He scoots you back, your body upright but comfortable against then pillows. Shanks opts to work his way down, making sure you knew just how precious you were to him. Soft and slightly chapped lips brush over your scales and the flesh of your necks, praises fall from his lips like a prayer.

It makes your tummy turn, a wave of emotions flooding your mind and body like you’d never felt before. For someone who’s lived their whole life in the ocean you were almost too sure this is what it felt like to be seasick, a loved, nervously, excited mess.

“Focus.” He hums, seeing the emotional roller coaster your conscious had gone on.

And you did, finally letting yourself just relax. His hands aren’t cold anymore, and they slide down the fabric of your shirt, exposing your chest to him. It’s only a little embarrassing but the embarrassment is soon overpowered by pleasure.

Your back arches into him when he takes one into his mouth, sucking and licking the sensetive bud while his free hand bust barely grazed over the other. A moan slips past your lips and you feel him grin as he unlatches and decides to kiss down your stomach.

“I-I don’t, how do we even-I’ve never-“ You gasp, the feeling of his fingers over your wetness making yoo shirt circuit.

“I do remember saying we’d go slow, right? We’ll work out way up love.” He explains, just barely circling your clit, enjoying how you unraveled before him.

“I- please.” You beg, not sure of what you were asking for.

Maybe for him to not stop, to stop teasing and let you feel his fingers fill you up. Desperation is what that was. Pure, horned up, desperation.

“I know love, I know. Are you okay for me to-?” He doesn’t finish, only pushing your folds open slowly as your head lols back an your mouth falls open in a silent moan.

“Yea, please keep touching me. Dont stop touching me.” You whine, curses in your native tongue rolling off your swollen lips. You’re now gripping his forearm, nails leaving indents in the flesh there.

Your eyes lock, yours glossy, his desperate, and promising.

"Oh honey when you ask like that I’ll touch you whenever you want for as long as you want I promise." He sighs, connecting your lips again as he begins to pump two fingers in and out of you, your wetness making the process a bit easier.

He’s gently, knowing that you've never touched or been touched like this. He knows its rather overwhelming and the last thing he wasn't to do if make you feel, uncomfortable.

You cling to him, letting him suck and lick the flesh of your neck, spots of purple being left in his wake. You do the same though, marking him as yours with a smile. You gasp when he hits that softer spot inside you, your head falling onto his shoulder.

He knows your close, velet walls fluttering around his fingers as he used his free hand to rub circlesover your sensitive nub. It feels so much hotter than before, your legs feeling like jelly when he takes the initiative to fold them a little more and guide you to wrap them around his waist.

“That’s it, let yourself feel good. Let me make you feel good.” He whispers, pupils wide as he watched you pall apart from his touch.

You can feel your body squeeze, muscles feeling tight as he speeds up a bit, the sound of your squelching only filling you with embarrassment. It didn’t last long though, because before you could warn him of this feeling of pleasurable impending doom, you snap.

And alll he does it smile, slowing his back as you two your head back, squeezing him as if he’d suddenly disappear.

Shanks is back on you, kissing you through your damn near earth shattering orgasm with a smile. He knows you’ll feel empty when he pulls his fingers out of you so as a sort of courtesy he doesn’t stop, still keep that agonizingly slow pace.

“That’s it my love. Gods you look beautiful like that. So pretty cumming over my fingers.” He hums, finally removing them from you and raising them to his mouth.

“Shanks!” You gasp, trying you tug his hand away but it’s too late, the action making you burn up.

He doesn’t respond, only pressing his lips to yours, sliding his tongue between your teeth as you moan into him, further relaxing. It’s somehow bitter and sweet.

“Just wanted you to see how good you taste.” He chuckles, placing his hat atop your head.

“Now, let’s get you cleaned up, hm?” He finishes, kissing your forehead before turning to find something to clean you with.

He’s soft, pulling you into one of his shirts which is far too big for you. He kisses the top of your head, your eyelids, your nose, and finally your lips. The silent agreement of sleep written over your faces.

Yeah, you’d be a fool to say no to this.

Tag list: @gingernut1314 @commanderfreethatdust @justrandom20

#x reader #reader is black #one piece #one piece live action #smut #opla shanks #one piece shanks #one piece shanks x reader #shanks x reader #shanks #opla shanks x reader #reader is a mermaid #reader is a siren #shanks is a daddy #i don't care he's hot

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mistressemmedi · 1 year ago

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"The tall chap in yellow clothes, I believe his name is Machine Gun Kelly? He has left the circuit" TED. PLEASE 💀

#f1 #brazilian gp 2023

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theseshipsshallsail · 22 days ago

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THE POWER OF LAUGHTER

If Elio were a betting man - like those who spend their days playing endless rounds of bridge and briscola in the Silvestri brothers’ bar - he’d lay good money that aside from the obvious lure of his cock and ass, Oliver’s favourite part of his body is most certainly his torso: the smooth, pale expanse of skin that’s ostensibly non-exceptional save for the peak of dusky nipples and sparse trail of hair leading to the aforementioned regions below.

It’s the spot Oliver braces his head when they’re alone in the villa’s garden; readily discussing the final draft pages for Signora Milani.

The area he nuzzles upon first awakening in the burnished light of dawn; sleep-soft and heavy and blissfully warm against him.

It’s where he’s placing a teasing kiss right now, in fact - chapped lips skimming the shallow dip of Elio’s navel - and given they’re both naked in bed after a night of self-indulgence, the sensation itself should probably err on the side of erotic. As things stand, however, he finds it rather tickles, so the hitched gasp Elio sputters is truly mortifying when paired with the ungainly giggles that follow thereafter.

High-pitched.

Jagged.

Redolent of an out-of-tune violin.

Quick as a flash, Elio cups a hand over his traitorous mouth, but it’s barely a second before Oliver’s peeling it away; eyes dancing in such brazen amusement it only serves to fuel the indignity.

“Don’t,” he says, thumb tracing idle patterns atop the thin knot of veins at his wrist. “I want to hear you,” he assures, levering up on his elbow, and Elio huffs in fond exasperation.

“Why?”

Oliver shrugs. “Why not?” he replies; turning the gentle benediction of his lips to the ridge of Elio’s knuckles, instead. “Call me maudlin -”

“I’ve called you far worse…”

“- but half the pleasure lies in knowing what this does to you,” Oliver explains, skimming the pads of ink-stained fingers in a looping figure of eight. “In knowing how much you enjoy it.”

Elio scoffs, already arching into the soothing touch. “Surely I've made myself tragically clear on that point?”

“Bravely,” Oliver corrects, never one to let him put himself down. “You've made yourself bravely clear, Elio Perlman…”

And all at once he’s laughing again - swatting ineffectually at Oliver’s sun-bronzed shoulders as he doubles his attack.

Grazing his stubbly chin over the freckles on Elio’s abdomen.

Scrabbling relentless digits between his eighth and ninth ribs.

Nipping careful teeth along the bony curve of his hip.

“I still can't believe I get to do this…” Oliver murmurs then - completely at odds with his confident demeanour - and Elio’s brain just about short-circuits as he wraps both arms around him: the newfound need to shelter and protect stronger than he’d ever deemed possible.

Notes:

A bit rough and ready but it's been one hell of a week, and as much as I've sent my congratulations to the big man himself, I figured Elio would like the chance to express his pride too.

#call me by your name #cmbyn #elio x oliver #cmbyn fanfic #supportarmiehammer

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webslinger-holland · 8 months ago

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The Sergeant's Senator | Chapter 6

Summary: The sergeant and senator finally spend a night together in each other's company.

Warning: +18 minors DNI below the cut, explicit sexual content, mutual pining, strong language, smut, kissing/making out, p in v, oral sex (both female and male receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink, edging kink, power kink, slight overstimulation

Pairing: Hunter x Fem!Reader Senator

Type: Short Series

Word Count: 4.4k

Series Masterlist

The desperation began to grow between the two which made it all the more difficult to pull away.

Her lips were so soft, almost silken and pillowy against his rather chapped ones. His hooked nose nudged against the side of her cheek, moving to the other side of her face when he deepened their connection. He drew her closer to him by cupping her ribcage, desperate to feel every inch of her against him.

When she did pull away from him, there was a shift in the atmosphere around them. It quickly invaded all of his senses, causing his brain to short circuit for a moment. He opened his eyes to glance down at her; his eyes were shimmering with lust and desire. Lips parting ever so slightly to release a shaky breath as he took in the rich scent of arousal that had begun to pool between her legs.

"Oh, you're going to be the death of me," Hunter chuckled deeply.

His voice sounded gruff and husky. His body felt like it was engulfed in flames; that his clothes were too constricting. He mirrored her movements in order to capture her lips once again.

Weaving her fingers through his long hair, she tugged ever so slightly to pull a moan from his lips. Her hands began to move down his body, gently removing a single piece of armor from his arm. She drew away from him, but kept close to him. Breathing heavily against his lips, she pleaded for him:

"Take it off," Y/n panted quietly. "Take it all off so I can feel you."

Pulling just a little further away, Hunter gazed down at her to fully take in her appearance. He saw just how red her cheeks had gotten and felt how hot her skin felt under his fingers. He could hear the rapid beating of her heart in her chest. And he smelt the growing desire dripping from her.

They wasted very little time in making their way into the bedroom, stumbling over the threshold and fumbling desperately to get all of his gear off between heavy kisses. His armor was quickly discarded off to the side without another thought.

The two of them parted only to catch their breath for a minute; their chests heaving dramatically. Now, wearing only his blacks, she was able to feel the groove and shape of his muscles that always hid behind the plates of armor. He watched her carefully, fully immersed in her movements. Her fingers danced across the length of his chest, traveling lower and lower until she reached the edge of his pants.

His own curious hands scanned the expanse of her back, fumbling for the zipper of her dress. He pulled on it leisurely until it left her entire back bare. He eased the material of her dress over her shoulders, encouraging her dress to fall to the floor in a heap.

Reaching for the edge of his shirt, Hunter was quick to remove his own shirt off, throwing it to the side. He laced his arm around her backside, gathering her in his arms so their bare chests could finally touch. Leaning down, Hunter and Y/n's lips met in another passionate kiss. Their lips parted ever so slightly, slipping tongues into each other's mouths for exploration.

Slowly and gently, Hunter encouraged her to take one more step backwards until her legs hit the back of the bed. They collapsed backwards onto the surface of the bed, surrounded by soft and smooth blankets.

His forearms kept most of his body weight off of her, resting on their side of her face and caging her in. His hips found the space between her legs, which were parted on either side of his hips to accompany him. It was the exact same position they had been in when he had first saved her when the assailant attacked her apartment months prior. But now, the situation was much different.

Taking a moment to admire the way her hair framed her face, Hunter could have sworn that he was looking at an angel. He'd imagined them in this position a thousand times, but he never thought he would have the opportunity to live out his dream. Yet here she was laying underneath him and curled into his embrace.

"Just promise me one thing," Y/n whispered against his lips. A small gasp slipped out of her as his hand trailed up the side of her body, caressing her ever so gently.

"Anything," Hunter rasped.

"Don't tell your brothers," Y/n pleaded with him. They'd likely never be able to do this again, but she didn't want their preception of her to change just because she slept with him.

And Hunter understood this.

"Of course," Hunter agreed with a small smile gracing his lips. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "But only if you promise me something."

"What's that?" She smiled back at him.

His breath seemed to tickle the delicate skin of her neck, causing a tingle to run down her spine. He kissed her neck gently, listening to the way her gasps escaped from her notice. He sucked on the pulse of her neck, leaving a small pink mark behind.

"Don't hold back," Hunter requested.

Her sergeant adjusted his position above her, beginning his descent down her body. His hot breath fanning against her skin and causing goosebumps to arise. His dark lustful eyes remained locked with hers. A trail of teasing kisses were being littered against her body.

"I want to hear how good I make you feel," Hunter spoke so sinfully. He shifted over the side of the bed and was kneeling at the foot of it. He finally tore his eyes away from her face, settling his gaze on her heat in front of him. He dragged the fabric of her undergarments down her legs almost in a teasing manner.

Waiting in anticipation, Y/n's fingers curled into the soft fabric of the blankets beneath her. She felt his breath fanning the heat between her legs, knowing that he was drawing nearer to her without having to look down. His hands grasped the backs of her thighs, hoisting them onto his shoulders for leverage.

"Let me know if this is too much for you and I can stop," Hunter reassured her. She nodded her head rapidly, still waiting for him to take the plunge.

Finally, not wanting to keep her waiting, Hunter's head moved forward until his lips enclosed around the little bundle of nerves. This action caused her to jolt slightly, but he kept her grounded by wrapping his arms around her legs. His tongue began to draw her wetness into his mouth, desperately lapping at her and drinking everything she was willing to offer him. He moaned into her, moving with more passion.

Unable to contain herself, Y/n had to close her eyes to savor the feeling of him being down there. Her hand weaved into his hair, pulling slightly to keep him closer to her. Little moans escaped past her lips which only urged him to continue his efforts relentlessly.

The small stubble of his face rubbed against the inside of her thighs, irritating the skin by leaving a bit of a red mark behind. But she didn't care in the slightest because it felt so good.

His senses getting the full experience of his deepest desire. He savored every second of it, not knowing if he'd ever be able to do this again. He enjoyed the way she tasted against his tongue, the way her growing arousal smelled, the way her skin grew hot under his touch, the way she called his name desperately, and the way she looked squirming with each movement. It was everything he dreamed of.

"H-Hunter," Y/n began pleading for more. "I'm so close."

Taking that as a challenge, Hunter rose a little higher from his seated position. He gripped the back of her thighs tightly, moving them back so that her legs pressed against her chest. He pinned her down there, continuing to eat her out like a starved man.

The obscene noises filled the entire room. From the moans she let out to the wet noise of his mouth moving against her folds. She arched her back as she chased her high, desperately clinging to the sheets underneath her. He slipped a finger into her warm and wet entrance, settling a slow and steady pace by pumping his finger in and out of her. His lips trailed up to the little bundle of nerves, swirling the tip of his tongue around it to give her the most pleasure.

Slipping another finger into her and picking up the pace of his thrusts, Y/n was drawing closer and closer to her climax with each passing second. She squirmed underneath his grasp, almost feeling too overwhelmed with the sensations she was experiencing. She pulled him impossibly closer, calling out his name one last time.

He felt the way her walls were clenching and contracting around his fingers, hinting how close she was. He easily found that spongey spot deep inside her, pumping his fingers expertly to chase that rich feeling. He let out a small moan against her, which ended up being her undoing.

The blinding white tingling sensation took control of her entire body, throwing herself in the deep end of pure ecstasy. Her legs tightened around his head and her hand pulled his hair painfully, but he didn't seem to mind. He eased her back down slowly and pulled his lips away from her sensitive spot.

Pulling his fingers from her entrance meant she suddenly felt empty. She wanted nothing more than for him to be inside her. She gazed down at him with half-lidded eyes, chest heaving with each breath and fingers raking through his hair. She admired the way her juices coated his lower face. He didn't need to think twice before inserting his two soaked fingers into his mouth, cleaning them with his tongue.

He slowly climbed back up the long length of her body, finding the spot between her legs once again. His evident arousal pressed against her own heat and got the lower half of his blacks wet. He drew away from her, coming to stand at his full height. Sliding his fingers into the waistband of his blacks, Hunter carefully eased them down his legs and discarded them off to the side.

And now she saw how far down that tattoo really went.

Sitting up by putting weight on her forearms, Y/n's eyes shamelessly raked up and down the length of his body. She rubbed her legs together subconsciously to ease the ache between them. Then she rose into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, coming face to face with abdomen.

For a moment, Hunter watched her movements very carefully. Her fingers traced along the valleys of his muscles, memorizing every groove and dip. The mere action caused his breath to catch in the back of his throat and the hairs to rise against his skin. Finally, Y/n wrapped her hand around the base of his cock and teased him by giving him an experimental tug or two.

The way her fingers felt squeezing him and the way his skin moved with each pull was starting to drive him crazy. He closed his eyes; his head tilting up towards the ceiling as a deep moan drew from his lips. Each pump of her hand sent another wave of pleasure through him.

Suddenly, Hunter felt her warm and soft lips wrap around the very tip of him. Her tongue teased the underside of him, feeling every vein and ridge of his member. She began to take him further into her mouth, sinking down to the hilt before drawing almost all the way out. He swore under his breath, fingers weaving into her hair to encourage her.

He just couldn't look at her; he knew he'd release too early if he did. He simply relished the feeling of her lips being enveloped around him, loving the way her head moved back and forth as she took everything he had to offer. She bobbed her head at a slow pace, gripping whatever she couldn't fit into her mouth and slicking up the rest with her saliva.

Gripping the back of her head a little tighter, Hunter started to thrust his hips into her mouth. She picked up her pace, moving just a little faster in hopes of bringing him closer to a release. His breath quickened and his chest heaved with each second. He was so close and she knew this by the way his muscles tensed and by the way his cock twitched in her mouth.

Breathing steadily through her nose, she took him as far as she could by opening her throat to allow the weight of him to sink further. He slid in and out of her mouth with ease, barely noticing the strings of drool that connected from her mouth to his skin. She moaned around him, which caught him off guard. He quickly pulled himself out of her mouth, not wanting to cum just yet.

"W--Wait," Hunter called out.

He still gripped her head tightly, keeping her at a safe distance. He held the base of his cock, praying that he could prevent himself from releasing his seed just then. He took in gulps of air, finally feeling the peek subsiding for the time being.

"N-Not yet," Hunter explained while panting. His thumb traced along her pink plump lips. "D-Don't wanna cum just yet. Not until I can be inside you."

Slowly, Y/n found herself leaning back onto the surface of the mattress once again. Her eyes never left his in the process of laying down and laying herself out for him to admire. She gave him a bit of a show: hands dragging up the length of her body to settle on her breasts and fingers tweaking her nipples. Legs parting to show the mess of arousal lingering between them. He took it all in greedily with lust filled eyes.

Crawling back over her in bed, Hunter pumped his length a few times with the help of his hand. Her legs moved up to frame his waist and he rested most of his body weight on his left side. He eased himself to her entrance, prodding her folds open with the very tip. He began to push into her ever so slowly, closing his eyes and groaning at the feeling of her warm walls enveloping around his member.

"Fuck," Hunter breathed. He dropped his head down to briefly rest against her shoulder.

Clinging to him desperately, Y/n wrapped her arms around his back and her legs around his waist to draw him in closer. He kept inserting himself slowly, burying himself inside her until he was fully sheathed.

"H--Hunter, I--I..." Y/n commented with a small gasp. She wiggled her hips to move against him, desperate for more. She clung to him. "Need you to move, Hunter. Wanna feel all of you."

His deep honey brown eyes fixed on her face, watching for the slightest bit of discomfort. He kissed her possessively and passionately, swallowing her moans. His lips shifted to the side of her face, pressing soft kisses against her cheek and moving towards her ear. There, Hunter whispered sweet nothings to her.

"You feel so good, mesh'la." Hunter began to draw his hips back leisurely. A soft mewl left her lips, which he quickly calmed with a hush. He slowly pushed himself back inside. "Feel so tight," Hunter added with a grunt.

Starting out slow, Hunter began to set a steady pace. He pumped his hips against hers, gliding in and out of her rather effortlessly. His body moved to press deeper into hers. He let out soft grunts.

It was like she was meant for him: fit around him so perfectly, welcomed him in with each thrust, and clenched in response to his movements. She was thinking the exact same thing: his cock fucked her so perfectly, hitting that special spot easily, growing hot and heavy, and milking the soft sounds that escaped her.

Shifting his body upwards slightly, Hunter continued thrusting by snapping his hips into her. He reached down to grasp her thigh, hoisting it over the bulge of his hip and driving deeper to reach that perfect little spot. Her body responded so beautifully to his ministrations, moving along with him and creating the most sinful noises. She arched into him and pressed her chest against him, which allowed him to slip his arm around her waist and hold her.

Weaving her arms around his neck, she threaded her fingers underneath the band of his bandana. She pulled the material off of him, watching the way his long locks of hair tumbled down and framed the curve of her face. Throwing the bandana to the side, Y/n continued to relish the feeling of his cock driving into her relentlessly.

They leaned forward until this heads met, keeping their arms wrapped around one another. He gazed down at her with loving tender eyes; he wanted to commit this moment to his memory forever. He began kissing her again, lips trailing down to the groove of her neck and inhaling the strong scent of lavender that lingered there.

"Oh, mesh'la," Hunter groaned. He clung to her so desperately.

"Hunter, please..." She begged because she was so close to her high.

Her pleas became his drive. His thrusts had grown quicker in pace with his hips moving in tandem against her own. A thin layer of sweat coated their bodies as they rocked in a synchronized motion. Fucking her so deep that her body melted into the bed beneath her.

Her body quivered ever so slightly. With legs growing weaker as they shook against him. Breathes grew more shallow as she chased her high. He continued to strike that little sweet spot deep within her, teasing her with each thrust.

Dropping his head, Hunter's gaze landed on the point where they were conjoined. He couldn't look away, feeling memorized by the way he moved in and out of her. He could hear the bed creaking under them. He finally drew his eyes away, looking back up to see her face twisting and contorting slightly.

"Come for me," Hunter encouraged her; his voice coming out in soft pants. He snapped his hips into her roughly. "Come around me. Let me feel you."

Reaching down, Hunter brought a hand to the little bundle of nerves between them, rubbing quick circles around it. This is exactly what she needed to fall over the edge of euphoria.

Mouth falling open, Y/n felt a strong sensation washing over the entire length of her body. She called out his name which was music to his ears. The pleasure came in waves, continuing the pursuit relentlessly. Her body had grown so warm. She clenched around his cock as his fingers worked her through her orgasm. He choked at the feeling of her squeezing him, sensing that her body was trying to persuade him to follow.

But instead of letting his body fall into the pits of pleasure, Hunter began to slow his thrusts and carefully helped her down from her high. As her senses came back to reality, Y/n looked up at him in slight confusion. She noticed that he had stopped thrusting at this point, but kept himself inside her for the time being.

"Y--You didn't come," Y/n panted with a. shake of her head. Her brows were furrowed in concern and confusion, but he reassured her with a small smile.

"Not yet," Hunter teased.

Before Y/n was able to say anything to argue against this, Hunter had managed to take matters into his own hands. With his arm wrapped around her waist, they switched positions and flipped over in the bed. Now, still holding him inside her, Y/n was seated on top of him and straddling him. Her legs stayed on either side of him, caging him down to the bed. She lowered her hands onto his abdomen to maintain her balance.

He let her take all the time she needed to adjust to this new position, knowing how deeply seated he was within her. She shuddered against him, still feeling the affects from her last orgasm. She closed her eyes momentarily to gather her thoughts.

This is exactly what he wanted: to watch her take him from above. In a way, this position mirrored their roles in this whole arrangement. She was a senator that he worked for; she would always be above him in society and he wanted her to be above him in bed. He wanted nothing more than to see her riding him.

Hesitantly, Hunter's hands drifted upwards to grasp her hips. He started out slow, guiding her hips to rock against his own. She carefully raised herself up until just the tip with in her before she fully sinking down and taking him back in. He cursed under his breath, eyes closing for a brief moment to enjoy the feeling of her riding him. She continued her process, lifting her hips up and sliding right back down.

It was like she could feel every part of him filling her up to the hilt. Her hands dragged up to the center of his chest, holding him down and feeling how his muscles clenched beneath her. His hands, which previously were situated on her hips, now rested on the firmness of her ass. He lifted her up slowly and helped her ease back down onto him.

The sight of him being beneath her was certainly a sight. She more determined now to make him come in this position. She watched him with hooded eyelids. His eyes were kept shut as if he was trying to contain himself, feeling almost too overwhelmed with the amount of bliss he was experiencing. He moved his head forward until his chin was pressed against his chest. He released a grunt as she rode him expertly.

"You've been holding back," Y/n made note of. He asked her not to hold back earlier so she wondered why he was suddenly holding back. "Think I can't handle it? That I can't take you?" She wondered.

He threw his head back against the sheets, opening his eyes to meet her gaze. His chest heaved with each breath.

All of the sudden, Y/n dropped her hips down roughly and forced him to bottom out inside her, instantly drawing a sharp gasp out of him. She picked up her pace, rising and falling with such speed that her legs started to go numb. She felt like she was being split open by him with each drop. Her breasts bounced teasingly above him, matching the movement of her hips.

The sound of their thighs slapping together began to fill the room. The tension was growing with each second; the thread threatening to break any second now. Feeling him hit that spot deep inside her. Grinding against his abdomen to stimulate her bundle of nerves with every drag of her hips. The growing warmth that blossomed in the pit of her stomach made her desperate to come on him.

"I can handle it," Y/n reassured him.

She took him right there for everything he was worth, fucking him until he was at a loss for words. He watched her breathlessly above him, feeling that knot tighten within him.

"Take me, Hunter." She challenged him. He searched her eyes. "Fuck me. And don't hold back."

It was like a switch flipped in his head. He roughly grabbed her hips to halt her movements, keeping her still against him. He shifts his feet behind her, planting them down into the mattress and raising her upwards ever so slightly. He begins to thrust his hips up to meet hers, fucking up into her as hard and fast as possible.

The force of his movements almost causes her to lose balance so she quickly places her hands on his chest to steady herself. She mewled at the feeling of him driving his thick cock in and out of her at such speed. With her eyes closed, Y/n could have sworn she saw stars. She breathed his name like a prayer.

"You want me to fuck you? Want me to take you and claim you?" Hunter grunted out. He roughly fucked up into her, which made her release a small gasp of surprise. "And ruin a pretty little senator?"

"Yes sergeant," Y/n moaned for him.

Hearing his own title caused his cock to twitch violently in her. His thrusts grew more desperate, pistoning up into her so hard that it knocked the wind out of her. They were both drawing close to their climaxes, ready to finally reach their peaks together.

"C--Come with me, mesh'la."

The waves of white hot pleasure exploded within them, wracking their bodies with the strongest form of pure bliss. Her walls contracted so tightly around him and his cock throbbed within her. The white ropes of his release painting the insides of her walls and her own mess of arousal now coated his abdomen.

Coming down from their highs, Hunter was still pumping slowly into her to help her down from it. His hips eventually stilled, holding her above him for the moment. They panted steadily to regain their breath.

With much care, Y/n was able to lift her hips until he slipped out of her. She collapsed beside him into the mess of sheets, cuddling his side by laying next to him. He looped a hand behind his head to support it. His eyes locked on the ceiling above him.

It didn't take long for her to drift off into a peaceful sleep, but he didn't mind at all. He soon followed behind her, closing his eyes to relax his body into the night. They lay in each other's arms, already realizing something important.

The likelihood that they'd ever get to experience this time alone would be scarce and rare. It was both of their desires to remember this night as their first together and quite possibly their last. And they both had this understanding that nobody else had ever come close or would come close in the future to bringing them as much pleasure as they experienced right then and there. They were ruined for one another. But they didn't seem to care.

CHAPTER SEVEN HERE

Taglist:

@justhavingsomefun1 @totally-not-your-babe @jedipoodoo @gyllord @roam-rs @totallyunidentified @redheadgirl @mrcaptainrex @whore-of-many-hot-men @graciexmarvel @qweenrogerina @arcsimper5 @queenofspades6 @cadihyo @jediknightjana @elthoughtzos @lokigirlszendaya @sleepycreativewriter @moonwrecked @ravenclawbitch426 @waytoooldforthis78 @left-in-the-motel-bar @fic-force-99 @ayyyy-le-simp

#the bad batch #star wars #the clone wars #clone trooper hunter #tbb hunter #bad batch hunter #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter x you #tbb hunter x y/n #tbb hunter x senator #tbb hunter x fem!reader senator #the marauder ship #tbb hunter angst #tbb hunter fluff #tbb hunter smut #tbb hunter series #tbb hunter imagine

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glassgulls · 2 years ago

Text

Sweet Conversations

Fandom: Lord Of The Rings Return of the King

Pairing: Haldir x fem!reader

Warnings: Mutual pining, lots of kissing some not very innocent. Nothing explicit but please be advised this spicier than general audience.

Summary: A chance conversation leads to a simple game with the sweetest of prizes.

Comments: This was inspired by this prompt list "let me teach you what a real kiss is". The thought of Haldir saying that to me seems to have short circuited my brain as this was supposed to be a drabble but ran away from me, hopefully not to the detriment of the piece. I also would very much like to be chased down by Haldir. I have no chill.

Word count: 5, 359

Your eyes were fluttered closed as thumbs smoothed over your cheek bones. The strong hands that are cupping your face so tenderly tilt it up slightly. Your parted lips are trembling as the whisper of breath fans over your face.

You feel the shift of the body in front of you as they press closer, a nose nuzzles against your cheek and you whimper softly as chapped lips brush the corner of your own.

“Haldir.” You plead softly, your hands reach up and curl your fingers into his tunic, breath catching in anticipation of his touch.

His voice was a low purr as he speaks your name, making you quiver. He has barely touched you but your heart is thundering in your chest you're sure Haldir's sharp ears can hear it.

Your fingers grip his clothing, holding on to try to ground you in the moment. His lips trailed up to press softly against your temple.

His name tumbles from your lips like a plea, a prayer. Let him have mercy on you and finally kiss you like he had promised.

"Let me teach you what a real kiss is." The Marchwarden had stated earlier. Moving slowly closer into your personal space. The apex predator closing in on his cornered prey.

His steps had been slow and cautious, always giving you time to refuse but you hadn't. You had taken a step back so your back was flush with one of the decorated columns in this secluded vista. Back arching slightly to bend your body towards him. Welcoming his approach, encouraging him closer, a luring siren. No one would pass by at this time of evening. It was why you had run here, leading Haldir on a merry chase so you two could finally be alone.

Your heart had been full of courage then, all breathy laughs and gasps as you had weaved around the various areas of Lórien. Turning every now and then to make sure he was still there and thrilled to see the glimpse of him moving with an unhurried pace behind. But always within sight, once or twice within grasp but had not reached out. You knew he just wanted you to know that he could finish this in a moment. It was sheer indulgence on his part or perhaps he was just looking to see you finally tired out and close in with ease.

You had giggled and squealed as you turned a corner to see him already there leaning on a wall with a ghost of a smile and had danced away to change direction. You knew your destination, you were positive that Haldir also knew but was corralling you along more quieter routes, neither of you wanted anyone disturbing your game.

You had paused at a small ornamental garden with a delicate fountain in the centre with flowers of heady scents planted in a careful pattern around the area. The beautiful statue holding a vase that was pouring gurgling waters in the centre shone in the early moonlight. Swiftly hiding behind the fountain you placed a hand on your chest to catch your breath, your heart beating frantically under your touch and you let your eyes flutter closed for a second to try to calm its frantic pace and listen for any approaching noise.

Silence.

Opening your eyes you had caught the full moon gloriously starting its climb across the night sky. It’s silver visage reminding you of the blue eyes of your pursuer. A sharp blue under the sun but at night a brilliant flash of quicksilver whenever your gazes met.

You had bitten your lip at the flash of memory as Haldir had openly stared at you at the party earlier in honour of you and companions. The flush of alcohol in your system had made you more playful than usual as you had joined in on the teasing chatter of your companions.

“Who was your best kiss?”

It had made you frown and dip your head down as the others had whispered the lurid details of the treasured moments. But when it had been your turn you had only sighed in melancholy.

“I’ve never-” You had started and then Pippin had jumped in spluttering his drink everywhere.

“You’ve never been kissed?!” His shrill tone making people turn towards your group.

“No, of course I have!” You shouted a little too loudly and dropped your voice low again in a conspiratorial whisper. “They’ve just been nothing to write home about.” You shrugged and your gaze had flicked up to see a certain elf watching your group, watching you with a look that had made you suck on your lower lip and heat rush to your face.

You recognised him of course, Haldir the Marchwarden of Lorien. He who had escorted you and your group through the forest now dressed tonight in a more casual tunic and leggings of grey and green. Haldir who had approached you later to ask your name and gave you a tour of the main part of the beautiful Elven city. Haldir that you now had nightly dreams about driving him quite mad with desire and shaking his famous composure.

Haldir who had clearly heard the drunken conversation and was pinning you where you stood with his blue eyes. Perhaps you were not the only one who was dreaming of less than innocent thoughts.

You had excused yourself to get another drink and while at the serving table you had felt a presence at your elbow. You knew who it would be immediately. After all, being in your every waking and dreaming thought had made you hyper away of him.

“Marchwarden.” You spoke and let your gaze flick to him. He had already grabbed the bottle you were reaching for and offering to pour you a drink. His voice was calm and quiet as he spoke your name. Placing the bottle back down again you took a small sip and let your eyelashes flutter up at him, noticing the way his jaw clenched at the action.

“I couldn't help overhear your conversation from before.” He spoke with such a blase tone you had a hard time reconciling it with the way his fingers tightened around the bottle, knuckles going white when you had let your tongue peek out to chase the wine on your lips.

“Did you wish to contribute to the conversation?” You had asked in a careful tone and moved closer to him. Purposely brushing against his arm to reach for a plate of strawberries and smiling in relief at the way his body shivered at the contact.

"Not with the rest of your companions, no.” He stated simply in a low tone that seemed to suggest a hint of collusion. An air of secrecy between you and him. The implications of that made you hum in excited satisfaction and gaze up at him. Girlish fancy bubbling up in you at the prospect that you and the handsome ellon would share something together. You finish the wine in your glass and delicately place it down.

Biting into the strawberry you couldn't help the sigh of content at its sweet taste and looked to the side as if deep in thought.

“Then perhaps it is something you would like to converse about somewhere more quiet?” You felt the low rumble of agreement rather than with your ear, it makes you wonder if he takes it for granted that you don’t have the sharp hearing of him and his kin.

“If that would please you, my lady.” He says, looking over the party with an aching parody of drollness that it makes you giggle under your breath.

The ellon takes a strawberry also and lets his gaze flick back to you while taking a small bite from it. There’s a sizzle of tension between you both, hot and heavy like before a thunderstorm. Feeling the brave courage of the wine in your veins you scan the room to make sure there was no audience to you and Haldir's little game.

Seeing no spectators you arched an eyebrow and plucked the strawberry from his hand and let it tap at your bottom lip a second before sinking your teeth into it and letting the juice almost fall from your lips. Haldir had watched you with rapt attention the whole time, made you revel in the dark cast of his brilliant blue eyes. Pupils swallowing the iris till they drowned the blue.

“Very well, I’m going outside to take some air.” You announced to him, your voice thick with desire before brushing past him. A trail of fingertips against his hand still by his side you had walked over to your friends and told them you were going to retire to your rooms and sauntered out fully aware you were being watched.

Outside you had taken a deep breath and tried to cool the blistering heat of want that sat under your skin. The drink, you imagine, was not the wisest choice to do while this clearly besotted with a near stranger.

Walking to the little railing that overlooked the city below you stopped, resting your hands on it. The sound of a footstep approached from behind made you smile and you resisted the urge to turn to them as they stood a hair's breadth away.

“Marchwarden.” You said again and risked a glance at him. He was staring below with a tint to his cheeks that you assumed was from the heat of the party inside.

“Haldir,” He corrected softly, then ducked his head down a moment and gave a small cough. “While we’re alone you may call me by my name.” Haldir paused. "If you should desire." He gave the correction as if he wasn't completely convinced of your intentions.

"I greatly desire that Haldir.” You breathed and gave a thrilled grin. The ellon beside you tightened his grip on the railing when you had spoken his name so you tried it again. Letting it draw from your lips slowly and deliciously, tasting it on your tongue.

“You wished to discuss something with me, my lady?” Haldir spoke through gritted teeth. You tutted and tilted your head at him.

“You should call me by my name also Haldir like we are friends.” You chided him and watched as his knuckles went white gripping the railing.

“You wish, we should be friends?” He muttered quietly and you dropped the teasing smile from your face.

“No.” You confessed with the groan of yearning you had harboured for the ellon who stood next to you.

“Good,” He whispered with what seemed like a relieved exhale. You let your hand move closer to his own on the railing, just a soft brush of the tips of your fingertips had him shuddering. “You are playing a dangerous game.” Haldir let out with a soft growl like distant thunder. The rumble made you shiver and your toes curled at the forbidden images it stirred in you.

“If it’s a game you want to play I shall oblige you Haldir,” You had teased softly letting the evening breeze carry your voice away.

Pulling away from the railing Haldir had followed the movement with a puzzled expression. Standing there with your hands clasped behind your back you felt the breeze flutter the skirt of your dress as you looked at the ellon with liquid courage in your belly.

“We can continue our conversation after.” You finished and attempted a coy smile but it shrank when he stood and loomed over you. A hot flame of unbridled lust hit you, licked up your spine at the sheer presence Haldir had.

“And what is the game?” Haldir asked, tilting his head and with a curious voice.

"We can continue once you catch me." You breathed rising up and down slightly on your tiptoes. Haldir's stance changed, the curious puzzlement shifted into a coiled hunch. His head tilted again and it made you think of the large beasts in the forest. Eyes quick and teeth sharp ready to chase down and strike.

You ran your tongue over one of your canine teeth. A show of bravado, a taste of your intent, a glimpse who you really were. You were no child to tease and run. You were a woman who knew what she wanted and more than capable of biting back.

Haldir stands completely still and poised, awaiting the rules of the game. The only glimpse of emotion was that the ellon swallowed hard at your action, his adam's apple bobbing.

"What prize do I win when I catch you?" Haldir asked and you know your own eyes are mirroring his own dilated with desire.

"Perhaps you shall be able to give me the kiss I shall always think of." You responded sweetly and his lips curled for a split second.

"I accept," He stated calmly without hesitation. "I will teach you what a real kiss is." He promised.

You can't help the rush of excitement, the arousal his gaze ignites in you as he takes one step forward.

Taking one step back you had bitten your lip to stop the gasping giggle of nerves in your chest. He was still staring, unblinking, muscles clearly bunched and coiled even under the loose tunic. Broad shoulders rolled with anticipation and, Eru, that made you feverish with want.

"Will you grant me a head start Marchwarden?" You ask breathely and Haldir's unwavering stare slowly blinks. Like he's engrained the sight of you behind his eyes. He gave a soft hum of acknowledgement and nod of his head.

Then with a slight curtsy and cocky grin you turned on your heel and sprinted into the evening.

That was how you had ended up hiding behind the fountain. Your anticipation of his promised kiss made you almost falter in your steps so he would finally catch you. But you would play this game, race to the finish line and win your prize.

A light step stirred from behind and you held your breath. You had taken a peek from your hiding spot and gasped when long strong fingers were curled on the corner of the fountain behind you. The index finger tapped twice before sliding to hide again. You failed to hold back a giggle escaping you and strained your ears to pinpoint his next move. Your heartbeat thundered in your chest, fingers gripped your skirts in readiness to bolt again.

A flash of blond hair from your right and you fled yelping and laughing. Reaching the other side of the garden you turn and see Haldir where you had been hiding, his hand on the spot where your body had been seeming to memorise the warmth your body had been. He looked up to see you there and there's a look of such longing that it knocked the breath from you. The urge to run to him filled your bones, thrummed in your veins, choking off your breath.

Instead you had given him a smile, brimming with your own yearning, your desperate need. There had been a long moment when you both stood there trying to convey to one another your heart's desire.

After a heartbeat Haldir stood straight again and smirked, alerting you immediately. Maintaining eye contact he made a deliberate step forward. Tensing up you gave another squeak of excitement and bounded off into the dark.

Running, the night air whipped around you as you weaved through the familiar paths. Your feet made light work as you neared the end goal, your final destination.

Moonlight suddenly enveloped you as you reached the end goal. You had seen this remote spot in an earlier visit with your handsome tour guide. A small garden with columns surrounding a bench with sweet scented roses.

Stopping in the garden close to one of the columns you spun around, your dress swirling at your waist. Behind in the dark of the pathway you caught a glimpse of silver hair, raising a hand to your chest you try to calm your chittering nerves.

Slowly, step by step Haldir crept into the garden. You were clearly reminded of who he is, what he is, Marchwarden and guardian of this place. Lifetimes trained to defend, a sentinel of silent deadliness. A hunter who now had his eyes trained on you.

You fail to suppress the shudder that goes through you, goosebumps rippling across your skin as you finally make eye contact with him. Shadows gave way, falling from him, as Haldir was finally fully bathed in moonlight.

He approached slowly, seeming to sense the excitement in you. Whether the ellon wanted to make certain you were still sure of your earlier intent or perhaps it was in his nature as a hunter to approach his prey with caution? A cornered animal is at its most dangerous then after all.

So with that you lifted your chin up and taken another step back to feel the reassuring presence of the stone column behind you. Your eyes never strayed from the ellon coming towards you, the thundering in your chest is now not because of the chase. Haldir tilted his head again and paused.

"You give up?" He asked, curious and almost disappointed that you had stopped.

"We will be alone here, yes?" You counter and Haldir nods, blinking slowly.

"No one visits here at this time." He confirms and you relaxed against the column.

"Good," Your voice was barely a whisper as you threw him a reassuring smile. "No one to interrupt our discussion." You finished grinning at him.

Haldir hovered a little closer and gave a little laugh.

"You are very different." He said and moved into your personal space. Tilting your head back to keep his gaze you pouted a little.

"Is that bad?" You asked.

"No," he breathed and let one arm lean on the column you rested on. Leaning down he crowds in on you, and your breath quickened. You could smell his scent, wild and fresh like the forest surrounding this haven.

"No, living as long as I have, different, should be celebrated." He explained moving to bring his lips to your ear, his nose traced the shell of it. The tremble that it elicits causes you to bite your lip with a catch of breath.

"Will you claim your prize?" You ask hoarsely, your eyelashes fluttered as he pressed closer. Tilting your head again you let your lips brush against the alluring column of Haldir's neck. Your mouth close enough to his skin you could taste him on your lips. He hummed deeply in his chest, the vibrations rumbled through you both.

"Soon." He promised his breath against your ear making you whimper. "I will teach you what a real kiss is."

Haldir shifted his body and with a little trepidation ran his hands along your jaw. You let your eyes open to see his gaze studying you. Those impossible blue, now sliver regarding you closely, to gauge any discomfort on your part.

Raising your own hands you let them rest on his, your thumbs stroking against the battle scarred skin of his. Through parted lips you darted your tongue out to wet them and couldn't help the sense of satisfaction at his sharp intake of breath at your action.

"You tease me." He muttered in an accusatory tone.

"I don't know what you mean Marchwarden." Your laugh is an indecent purr.

His eyes roll white a moment at the way you address him as a violent tremble shaked him. When Haldir looks at you again the tease in you curls up as his gaze ripped through you, stripping you bare to bone. Naked and vulnerable under the watchful moon, those hunters' eyes are almost black.

A small ancestral part of you hisses danger to you. Run, run, little thing before you get gobbled up, consumed in one bite.

Another grin tugs your lips, showing teeth wide and bright. You're no little mouse to hide, you have your own claws, your own hunger. Haldir's lips twitch then curl into a small smile before he whispers your name. Soft like velvet across your skin, a dark caress that fills your mind, that has you close your eyes to savour the sensation.

The adrenaline is a heady concoction with the earlier wine, feeling daring you move your hands from his and let them rest on Haldirs chest. Your fingers smoothed over the hard defined muscle under his loose tunic.

The ellons own had moved to tilt your face up, calloused worn thumbs swept over your cheekbones. Haldir's name rolled off your tongue as it always did in your dreams of him, full of want and longing. It felt strange to say it aloud, sacrilegious to be able to speak it so. This perfect being you had fantasised about was now holding you, caressing you like he had dreamed of this also.

The scent of roses clung to his skin as you both stood curled around each other. Neither wanting it to end, let the night hold you like this forever and that is how you had stayed. Haldir pressing soft kisses to your cheeks, eyelids and brow. You grew more feverish and whimpered for him to finally bestow the finishing blow and kiss you fully.

Your fingers tangle in his tunic dragging him close, loathed to let any space between you both.

Haldir sings your name and you open your eyes to see him watching you. There's a wrinkle in his brow, a tension to his shoulders as a hand moves to cup your jaw. Sweeping your hands you curl them around his neck and let your nails drag softly against his skin. He seems nervous, or as close to an approximation to it that you can tell. It's a sharp contrast from his usual stoic demeanour.

Silken hair cascades over your fingers, like silver moonlight. Curling your fingers through it you ventured this was as close as to holding starlight, it's utterly bewitching. The fingers that still brush softly at the nape of Haldir's neck dip tantalising below the neck of his tunic. There's a hint of that bulk of muscle shifting again, like the roll of thunder, a force of nature.

The fluttering if your heart beats out a frantic tattoo as Haldir's arms wrap around you. It's with a delicate care, testing your boundaries when you feel his fingers stroke your waist. A soft gasp escapes you as his free hand slides up to cradle the back of your head, strong fingers tangling in your hair as he tugs your heads back exposing your neck.

Haldir's name chokes out your dry throat, when his breath fans across your pulse point, his nose nuzzling just under your ear. A whimper reverberates through you at plush lips pressed against your neck, the sensation as they made a slow trail along to your jugular and the fingers in your hair strong and insistent to keep you in place make you giddy.

Instinctively drag your nails along the perfect skin under your fingertips making Haldir groan softly. Your reward is the sharp scrape of his teeth that rips a sound from you that borders on animalistic.

Haldir presses soft open mouthed kisses in a soothing gesture but it's too late for you. The feverish dizziness consumes you, shaking you to the core. Heady intoxication from wine is a poor comparison to the way your blood sings in your veins under his touch. You hold Haldir tight to you, convinced you can both stay like this forever, drunk on each other under the moon.

The fingers on your waist splay out, the searing heat of them surely branding you. Haldir nips at your throat again letting out a low pitched moan that you answer with your own. He must be leaving marks that a deep animalistic part of you craves. Dipping your fingers under the neck of his tunic again you claw at Haldir making him grunt and press you hard against the column.

Arching against him you give a keening cry and eyes roll in your head at a hot sensation on your skin. A questing tongue flicking and dragging against your neck tasting you, his lips moving higher to your ear.

Haldir's nose nuzzles against you again, his own breath hurried as his fingers tighten on you. There's a sense of proud accomplishment that you of all people have caused this transformation in the Marchwarden. He's whispering in a low purr words you can't understand but the tone you can, it mirrors your own gasping pleas of want.

"Please." You beg with no mind to your pride. Haldir groans low in his throat and the fingers on your waist disappear but before you mourn their loss you feel them again on your jaw. Haldir's thumb presses on your bottom lip and you instinctively nip and lick at it. A shudder rips through the ellon wrapped around you at your action.

The fingers on your jaw tighten for a second before twisting your face to his own. His lips are so close to your own you feel his panting breath, the heat of his already kiss swollen lips. Opening your eyes you look at him with a teary gaze, unable to hide the sheer desperation in them.

Haldir meets your gaze with dark eyes, pupils blown wide.

"Haldir," you groan. "Please have pity on me." His eyes dip to your lips as you lick them.

"Yes meleth nin," Haldir's usual calm composed voice now choked out and gruff. "I shall take pity on us both." He stated.

Giving a rattled breath your eyes flutter close as Haldir presses his lips to your own, you both sigh in sated anticipation. His kiss is a lingering taste to savour you as he nips and sucks at your plush lips. Long and careful movements that unravel you with precision. Nothing can compare to this, your dreams and fantasies are poor fare to the reality.

With your soft hiccups and moans Haldir's resolve starts to waver. What started out as a soft press of lips quickly evolves into a messy clash of teeth and tongue. Your fingers in Haldir's hair tug insistently, a warning not to stop. Haldir grunts and his fingers on your jaw near the border on bruising, but you have no mind to care. You'll wear them and his other marks with quiet pride.

Sliding your tongue against Haldir's you gasp which Haldir swiftly swallows. Sucking on his bottom lips causes a growl from the Marchwarden that makes your toes curl before he dives back in at you again.

His ministrations make you reel, like a leaf in a storm whipped around. Hypoxia bleeds into your vision as you shiver and moan, Haldir stealing your breath. You pull away a moment and gulp air inelegantly, your hand not trapped in Haldir's hair cups his jaw, then move to trace his swollen lips to keep contact with him.

Haldir presses soft kisses to your fingertips and when he sees you have your breath returned pushes past your hand to claim your lips again. Your fingers twitch and grapple to find purchase in Haldir's onslaught.

You finally settle on his jaw again letting them flutter up to trace his ears. The reaction is visceral, violent shivers rocks through Haldir as he moans loudly. His chest heaves against your own as you meld into one another. Another desperate grapple at one another ensues to conquer, to consume the other, to become one.

Before you can press this advantage Haldir pulls away abruptly causing you to fall forward into him. He pulls you against his chest, letting you catch your breath.

Tilting your head up you look to him confused but he's looking away into the darkness of the corridors beyond.

"Someone was approaching," he says softly, his fingers rubbing softly at the base of your head. You let your head rest against his chest, tucked safely under his chin. Words are beyond you as you try to reclaim your wits again but sure you're punch drunk.

"It is getting late, perhaps we should continue our conversation tomorrow?" He states his question wavered with hope.

"Yes, tomorrow." You whisper into his chest loathed to move from his scent.

"I know of a place where no one will interrupt us, some place I would like to share with you." Haldir states softly running a hand up your back, tracing your spine.

You press yourself against him and sigh with content at the promise of tomorrow. Of Haldir wanting to share something precious of his life with you.

"I would like that very much, Haldir." You reply and feel him shift slightly. The hand on your back moves to tilt your face up to look at him again. There's a look of satisfaction on his face for a mere moment at your appearance, soft doe-eyed and docile in his arms.

"Will you allow me to escort you back to your room?" He asks and you stifle a laugh. After what you had both just done, how he had reduced you to a quivering mess, to have him sound so proper was equal parts amusing and heartwarming.

"Please." You reply and take a moment to figure out if your legs will cooperate after the heady onslaught of a moment ago.

As you pull back slightly you straighten your clothing and idly hope you don't run into anyone on the way back. You must look like a complete shambles. Seemingly reading your thoughts Haldir reaches out and tucks some errant hair behind your ear before pressing close to kiss you again.

You squeak in surprise before melting against him again. The frantic energy from before still sizzles under your skin but Haldir seems to have a presence of mind to pull back again.

Standing stupefied you feel Haldir tuck your arm through his own and whisk you away along unfamiliar paths. There's a sharp pang of grief of having to leave the sanctuary of moonlight and roses. But Haldir's presence at your side eases it immediately.

There's twists and turns along darkened corridors that you are eternally grateful for being empty. Though you knew that was due to your guide's expertise in stealth, his feet lead you seemingly by second nature on desolate paths.

Soon enough you saw the familiar door of your room and a dread filled you at the realisation of having to separate from the ellon at your side.

Slowing down you both reach the door and begrudgingly you slip your arm free from Haldir. There's the distant noise of the party still in the throes of going on but all you want is the next day to come.

Standing before Haldir you feel suddenly coy. Looking up at him under your lashes you fold your hands primly in front of you. You're sure anyone who may see would be adequately fooled into thinking you a chaste soul. And not the raging maelstrom of lust that the handsome Marchwarden stirs in you.

Haldir tilts his head at your act and there's a moment of his eyes darkening again before he takes control of himself.

"Thank you for the tour, I enjoyed our conversation." You say saccharin sweet, Haldir ducks his head down a moment to hide the huff of a laugh.

"Hopefully it was memorable." He quips and you can't stop the small giggle escaping you as he glances up at you again.

"It was," you reply "Though I'm afraid my memory may fail me and I will need reminding Marchwarden." You confess softly and can see the twitch of his lips before his expression falls back into the easy mask of composure.

"I'm at your disposal my lady." Haldir pledges. Giving a small bow to you, he rises and you see the twinkle of mirth and promise in those beautiful blue eyes.

"Till tomorrow then?" You ask with baited breath. Haldir breaths quietly and you're quite sure he's fighting the urge to kiss you again.

"Tomorrow and many more." He vows.

#haldir #haldir x reader #lord of the rings #lotr fanfic #Lord of the rings fanfiction #my writing #haldir x you #haldir fanfiction

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lizamango · 7 months ago

Text

Cruel World 1/? (Brainwashed HYDRA!Reader x Steve Rogers)

summary: A war between SHIELD and HYDRA rages on in the shadows of the world. You live for the kill as a Black Widow until you discover Steve Rogers, the weapon for the opposing side who makes you question the side you’ve been fighting for. (inspired by Underworld, just go with the lore on this fit pls)

warnings: smut later, cussing, canon typical violence

Wanna join my taglist?

wc: 4384 (ik my first chaps are always insane)

The war between SHIELD and HYDRA had ended when SHIELD’S prize was defeated by Johann Schmidt, the leader of the faction at the time. The prize was killed in a blaze of fire and ice, hope was lost for SHIELD, causing them to scatter into hiding.

Now, HYDRA puppets the world’s leaders, in charge behind closed doors, everyone in their pockets. The superior faction. Made up of Assets and Widows.

7 Decades have passed since the day SHIELD’s beloved prize was defeated and yet pockets of SHIELD would stubbornly attempt to put up a fight against HYDRA. Weapons have evolved since then, as did technology. However, our purpose remains.

Hunt them down and kill them off. A once tireless crusade, now approaching its end as SHIELD nears extinction. A pity for those like me, a Black Widow, who lived for the hunt.

“Sestra, I have eyes on the entrance,” Oksana announces through the radio. “One guard.”

“One guard? Sloppy,” Yelena remarks.

“Terpeniye,” I order. Patience. “I’m going in. Watch my six.” I jump down from my perch on a tree, my legs feeling the jolt of my landing. Our suits are white to blend into the snowy environment.

“Show off.” I know Yelena is rolling her eyes.

“You’re just jealous,” I tease. I always was stronger, faster and more agile than other Widows. Perhaps that’s why Dreykov favours me.

“We got the same training, suka.”

I smirk and pull out a knife from my sleeve. I approach from the side of the entrance and slit the throat of the guard. I use his keycard to unlock the doors.

“Clear,” I announce into my radio. In no time Oksana and Yelena are at my side. Our orders are simple; kill all SHIELD agents and report any new intel.

The facility is surprisingly large for a faction that has been driven to near extinction but I assume it’s an older facility back from when they had larger numbers…

There are floor plans on the wall next to the elevator. This place isn’t heavily guarded at all. “Yelena, take the ground floor, Oksana clear subfloor one then meet me by the north staircase of subfloor two and we rendezvous by the helipad. Clear?”

“Crystal,” they reply.

We split up, following the orders I gave. There were no guards manning the staircases and besides the entrance, no other doors I approach require a keycard.

I enter a room that looks like an office space. I frown, SHIELD isn’t supposed to be this organised. There are files and maps of supposed HYDRA bases… some wrong assumptions while others were a little two close for comfort. I take pictures of the room and some files they have for intel. One file is particularly thick, stamped with a red Classified and is filled with the name Dr Erskine.

“Hey! Identify yourself!” I hear a yell and look up to see a SHIELD agent in full tac gear and a gun. I throw a widow’s bite at him which stuns him for a few seconds then slide towards him, wrapping my whip around his neck, using it as a garrote. With the snap of his neck I let go and pull him into the room, shutting the door to continue with my mission.

The last room I get to requires a keypad but there’s no time to guess a million combinations so I stab my knife into the side to expose the wiring.

“You are not clear yet?” Oksana teases. I roll my eyes.

“Shut up, I’m working.” I use my knife to strip the rubber casing of the thickest wire and short circuit it with one of my widow’s bites. The door opens to reveal a laboratory. We walk in, on guard. Suspiciously, the lab is empty save for a puddle of water on a gurney and a heart and vitals monitor in the centre.

“What was going on here?” Oksana wonders as she surveils the lab. I find more files, one with wet marks, indicating someone had flipped through the pages with wet hands recently.

Subject woken. Vitals normal. Natural suspended animation.

A photo of a man, a handsome one at that, is stapled to the report. Blonde hair, long lashes and chilled jawline. STEVEN GRANT ROGERS.

I frown.

I pull the photo from the staple and pocket it. I turn to Oksana and hear it before she does. Gunshots. I duck under the gurney and see a flash of black helmets and blonde hair rush toward another exit. I run to follow them, passing by Oksana’s lifeless body. Fuck.

“Yelena, Oksana is down, SHIELD agents headed down south.” I report while following them.

“Oksana?”

“Go through the lab at the end of the corridor and the back door!”

I see that two Agents seem to be protecting the blonde man. I frown and shoot at one of the uniformed agents. As I set eyes on who I assume is a civilian, he enters a submarine with the help of an agent before I shoot that one down too.

I feel Yelena arrive next to me and hear her fire off shots too.

“What the fuck happened?”

I shake my head. “We have to go back to headquarters.”

We run up the stairs to the line of trees where we left our snow mobiles and ride towards our rendezvous point; a helipad atop a now abandoned hospital.

I speak into our radio, “Tac team 12 requesting extraction, one Widow down, medical assistance not necessary, over.”

“Extraction order received, arrival in T minus 16 minutes. Out.” The other line briefly responds.

“What happened to Oksana?” Yelena asks again.

I shake my head. “Shield agents shot at us. I got both of them back but someone else was there. He got away.”

“A civilian?” Yelena raises a brow.

“I don’t think so.” I look through the classified files again. “An asset.”

“SHIELD has no assets.”

“We have to take it up with the council.”

“That means bringing it through Rumlow,” Yelena says.

I sigh. Rumlow. He’s, for lack of a better term, obsessed with me. And not in a good way. I don’t know who to trust. Johann Schmidt is the Hydra high command of the decade and he has claimed for 70 years that he had been the one to take down Steve Rogers. To take down SHIELD’s organisation. How could I possibly bring this conspiracy to the attention of my faction?

The sound of the chopper interrupts my thoughts.

“You could bring it to Melina?”

One of Dreykov’s older Widows and importantly, trusted.

The chopper lands and we enter. It takes us swiftly back to the Red Room.

To no one’s surprise, Rumlow is waiting for us. We walk right passed him.

“What happened? You lost a Widow?” A Widow hasn’t been lost to this war in 7 years. That’s how weak we believe SHIELD to be. Not anymore it seems. Having the prize back may just be the turning point they need to gain an advantage over us.

“Oksana was shot down by SHIELD agents,” Yelena answers.

“What?” Rumlow spits out. “How is that possible?”

“That’s what I’m going to find out,” I say, choosing to avoid telling him the whole story or whatever part of the story I have.

“Where are you going?”

I stop and turn to face him. “I’m going to Melina. We need better weapons if SHIELD is firing at us.”

“You’re not going back out on a hunt tonight.”

“That’s not for you to decide, is it? Your orders don’t extend to the Widows.”

“The succession is in two days, we need everyone of importance to be here, at the stronghold getting ready for the ceremony. Even this mission was a risk, clearly I should have trusted my gut because now a Widow is dead!” He’s lucky the Succession is for Pierce and not Dreykov who would go to the ends of the earth to avenge a fallen Widow. Coward. I almost say it out loud.

Rumlow scoffs at my silence and stops following me.

“Wow, you know how to rile him up,” Yelena comments.

“6 years of his obsession, I know how to handle it by now.”

“Yikes. I would have just killed him.”

I laugh but roll my eyes. “Did you find anything on your sweep?” I ask, realising I didn’t get a debrief from her.

“Just four agents but it didn’t look like they had any sort of planning, sure organisation because that was the most we’ve seen in such a big location but…” Yelena shrugs.

“No lab?”

“Nope.”

I nod. “How are you dealing with Oksana?”

“I’m fine,” she responds in the least convincing tone. “I’m going. There’s that gala tonight.”

“There’s a gala every night,” I scoff, not keeping up with the social calendar. I continue to make my way to Melina’s lab.

“Come in,” she says before I can knock, though the glass doors make it pointless. “What do I owe the pleasure, detka?”

“We have a problem.” I pull out the photo from my pocket.

Melina frowns. “What am I looking at? The newest supermodel? He’s a bit too muscular for fashion, isn’t he?”

“This is serious, Melina.”

“Elaborate, detka.”

“I found files on him at the SHIELD facility we were sent to. I think it’s the prize.”

Melina cackles. “That means nothing. The SHIELD faction were fanatics about their Captain America,” she says in a mocking tone. “Star spangled banner propaganda bullshit. Look at them now, rats just trying to survive a burning ship. What has their Captain America done for them?”

“Could it be possible that he is still be alive? Maybe-Maybe Schmidt missed something.”

“Izmena,” she scolds. Treason.

“I saw them protecting someone. The agents I killed. He got away.”

“The succession is days away. You can wait that long.”

No. Right now, who ever that blonde man is, he’s disoriented and that means careless. He must be the one in the picture, why else would they have his file in a lab if not to do research?

“You cannot confront the council with this. It is a death sentence to question Schmidt, even for you.”

“Dreykov would believe me.” I take the photo and go to my room. I wash off the grime and dirt from my hair and stand under the shower for a while, thinking. Where would this prize go? If I was believed to be dead all these years… home would be my first stop. I get chills just thinking about it. Home. The warmth I used to feel as my parents came home from work, surprising us with food or toys. My sister…

I turn the shower valve and dry off. I opt for a casual black leather suit, not the attire for the gala Rumlow will no doubt be hounding me about. All we know about SHIELD’s prize is that he was from New York.

I leave discretely as the decadence of the gala distracts everyone else. I make my way up to the hanger and get into a quinjet. They won’t miss one…

I’ve flown a jet before, just never alone and outside of a mission. It feels forbidden. I turn off tracking and communications before anyone can sense my disappearance. I land the jet in a clearing outside the city of New York and activate cloaking.

I walk into a library and find the American history section, also known as works of fiction with the lies they spread and infect their people with…

World War II. Captain America.

The text reads.

Captain Steven Grant Rogers grew up in Brooklyn, suffering from numerous health problems for which he was denied from enlisting five times before he was recruited by Dr Abraham Erskine’s Project Rebirth as the only person in the world to receive the Super Soldier Serum.

What made him so special? I think as I flip the pages, looking for a clue.

In 1943, Rogers single-handedly liberated 150 captured troops from a Nazi base in Austria.

A raid on a Nazi transport train led to the capture of Nazi scientist Arnim Zola and the unfortunate death of Howling Commando and best friend of Steve Rogers, James Barnes.

There is a passage on James Barnes and his relationship with the prize along with a photo of the two, dated at 1935. They were outside of a brownstone.

“Fan of Captain America?” a young boy asks.

I smile, “pretty awesome hero, huh?”

“My favourite.”

My smile turns into a smirk. A child. Easy to manipulate. “What do you know about his past? Y’know, before the serum and stuff?”

“Well, he was the best guy ever like the only reason he was picked to have the serum was coz he was such a good guy!” I smile and nod along. “His old apartment, in Brooklyn where that photo was taken was turned into a museum! Like that Anne Frank house in Amsterdam.”

“Oh really? Do ya mind telling me the address? I’d love to visit it.”

“Sure!” Did I mention kids were easy to manipulate?

I took a cab to the address and sure enough the apartment was there with a sign going on about America’s glorified hero. I refrain from rolling my eyes. It wasn’t busy, a passerby would pay it no mind if they were just going about their day. I walk up into the apartment. It isn’t anything too special, two bedrooms, a kitchenette, a couch and bookcase as the living room. There are plaques with fun facts about the items. I walk into the second bedroom, smaller than the first. This must’ve been his. There are comic books and photographs on the desk. The plaques explaining who were in the photos and that the comic books are replicas of what he would have entertained himself with because he was too sick to go outside and play with the neighbours. What a sad life. I think back to the space I had in my family home. A mansion, really. The outdoor playground my parents built for us.

An album of the Captain’s drawings is on the bedside table. I flip through it and there are portraits of everything, skyscrapers, people, a park with a bridge in it. Brooklyn Bridge. Next stop.

I spot him immediately. He seems to have acquired some new clothes as the Captain sports a brown worn leather jacket, a tight black shirt and loose fit jeans and boots. He’s sitting on the bench overlooking the bridge and park from the exact angle the sketch seemed to be from.

“You were at that base in Russia,” he says as I sit beside him.

“You weren’t supposed to be there.”

“You killed those agents.”

“They were my orders,” I state.

“Are you here to kill me?” he asks calmly.

“I’m not. I need you to come with me.”

“Oh now you’re asking nicely?”

“You don’t know this new world, I do.”

“I’m supposed to trust you?” he raises a brow.

“Do you see anyone else trying to help you, Captain?”

He chuckles. He’s too… confident. It makes me uneasy and I don’t get uneasy.

“Fine. But you should know, if it comes to a fight… you’ll lose.”

It’s my turn to chuckle. “A threat? Hardly golden boy material. Is this what the American dream entails?”

“There’s something I wanna grab from my apartment first.”

I look at him sharply.

“Just a couple photographs. Memories. I didn’t get a chance to stop by yet. It was full of people.”

“If you try anything…”

He doesn’t. He’s an honest enough man, I think as I watch him look through the photographs on his desk. What must it be like to visit his home after being away for so long? Having strangers pick through and dissect every little thing they find… Something comes into my peripheral vision and I duck as the bullet hits the wall behind me. That’s why you don’t stand in front of open doorways, tupitsa. I throw a widow’s bite at the assailant’s neck and then go down. Another charges towards me but I kick the desk chair towards him and as he topples over I knee him in the face.

“We have to go.” I grab his hand and lead him through the stairs but there are agents waiting for us. I jump up on the railing and kick one agent in the face then jump down to the flight below wrap my legs around another agent’s throat until they passed out. I look up to see the Captain fighting off another two agents. We make our way down, removing anyone from our paths. But as we do this I can’t help but wonder how SHIELD has enough troops for an attack like this?

We get to the alley but there are still agents of SHIELD in our way. One takes out a knife and attempts to slash at the Captain. I throw a widow’s bite at him.

I don’t feel it until the Captain reacts, picking up a trash can lid and throwing it at the shooter. I look down and see my suit darken with the wetness of blood. Fuck.

“Come on!” the Captain puts his arms around me as I press down on the shot to my side, the bullet went straight through. “Keep pressure on it.”

He walks me toward a black car, SHIELD’s. Putting me into the passenger’s seat he rushed to the driver’s side and hit wires the car to start.

“Where did Captain America learn to steal a car?”

“Shut up, we’ve got to take you to the hospital!”

“No. No hospitals. I don’t need-“

“Don’t need?! You’ve been shot!” he shouts frantically.

“I’ll be fine, just t-take me to the safe house.”

“Listen ma’am, you need medical att-“

I take out my hand gun and point it right at him. “Safe. House.”

I give him the address and he reluctantly agrees.

I’ve never actually been shot before… stabbed? Yes. An arrow? Yes. Throwing stars? Definitely.

But never a bullet. I guess I’m usually better at dodging them. Or I usually don’t go out of my way to look out for someone other than myself during battle.

“Captain?”

“Yes?” he answers quickly. Worriedly.

“Never call me ma’am again.”

His chuckling is the last thing I hear as I pass out.

***

Embarrassment is what I would feel if I was conscious enough to. Passing out? The other Widows would never let me hear the end of it.

“You’re awake,” the Captain says and I hear a smile behind his words. “We’re at your safe house… doesn’t look that safe to me.”

“It’s not exactly a safe house. It’s an old interrogation and research facility.”

He frowns. “How’s your wound? I cleaned and dressed it.” I notice that he changes the subject.

“How long has it been?”

“About 14 hours.”

“And you didn’t run out on me?” I ask, in shock.

“How could I when you’re hurt?” he asks back sincerely. This man. He’s supposed to be the enemy.

I straighten myself up and he rushes to my side.

“You’re not supposed to be moving.”

“I feel fine, trust me.”

“You said that then you passed out,” he scolds.

I roll my eyes. “Actually I told you not to call me ma’am before I passed out.” I sit up and he puts a hand on my back which sends a jolt through my spine. I ignore it and lift up my shirt to look at the bandage. “I don’t… I don’t feel anything,” I say slowly, trying to make sense of things.

“What do you mean?”

“When I got shot I was in pain but now it’s like…” I slowly unwrapped the bandage.

“That’s- that’s impossible, I saw it myself, I cleaned and wrapped it up myself. You had a hole in you. Straight through.”

“I don’t understand. I’ve never- I mean I heal fast but not like this.”

“So that’s not the reason you wanted to come here instead of a hospital?” I shake my head. “Have you ever been shot before? Major traumatic injuries?”

“No, I mean I’ve been stabbed and had an arrow hit me before but that still took a couple days.”

His brows furrow. “Now your healing… is like mine.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “Don’t be ridiculous.” I unravel the rest of the bandage from me and put it in the sink, lighting it on fire to get rid of any trace. “No one can know of this, okay?”

“So you’re just gonna deny that you’ve got the serum too?” he challenges.

“Captain, you don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never had the serum and I’m not some jacked up, glorified super soldier, understand?”

“Fine,” he relents. “And my name’s Steve by the way.”

I scoff. “Don’t get too familiar.”

He gives me a pointed look and I give him my name.

“Nice to meet you.”

“You’re too polite, you know that?”

Steve chuckles. “So, what are you planning on doing with me?”

I sigh. “I have to take you back… The people who had you, SHIELD… they want you for your abilities. My people, they can keep you safe.”

“And who are your people?” he challenges. It seems he doesn’t even know what SHIELD is, I realise. Odd because our history states that he was SHIELD’s weapon.

“I’m from the Red Room. We call ourselves Black Widows... We’re tasked with taking SHIELD down. Every last one of them.” I say with such malice I can tell he’s taken aback.

“Why do you hate them?”

“It’s a war, Steve. You would know about those, wouldn’t you?”

“I’ve had my fair share… But you’re avoiding my question. The way you said that… it was more than just a soldier following orders.”

I take him in. His face, his posture. His eyes. The most sincere eyes I’ve ever looked into. Eyes that make you feel safe because they’re on you. I see his jaw clench.

“Fine,” he goes to turn away.

“I had a nightmare that night.” He slowly turns back once I find my voice. “I went to go into my parents’ bedroom but they weren’t there. The bed was unmade, as if they’d gotten out in a hurry. I went to find my sister, she was older so she got the bigger room down stairs. I remember the thunder, it was so cold. The door was wide open, there was paper everywhere. Then I noticed all the blood.”

Steve whispers my name.

“I felt someone wrap their arms around me. At first I thought it was my father. But it was too late for that. The war had spilled into our home, they wanted something my father had but they couldn’t take it. So SHIELD decided that no one could have it. He killed the agents that they had been tracking and saved me.”

“Who did?”

“Dreykov. He founded the Black Widow program. That night, he made me what I am now. He gave me the strength to hunt down SHIELD and avenge my family.”

“He didn’t give you a serum?”

I shake my head. “He trained me. Taught me everything I know. Combat training, tactical knowledge. As he did all Widows.”

“But he treated you differently?” Smart.

I nod. “Like a daughter.”

I can tell he has more questions but he lets the silence hang as I shared the deepest part of myself with him. Essentially a stranger. No other Widows know my story. Most of them didn’t come from such tragedy. Many were given up by families without the means to raise them, others simply abandoned. They don’t know the love that they’ve missed out on. The Red Room is the only home they know.

“I um, I went out to get some food for us while you were passed out.” He’s really good at changing the subject, whether it’s for my comfort or his.

I smile softly. “What did you get?”

“Fruits - strawberries, apples. Stuff to make sandwiches from. I actually-“ he opens up the fridge. “I actually made you one already.”

I raise my brows in surprise. “Wow.”

“Yeah, wow. You should be grateful.” He pulls out a ham, lettuce and tomato sandwich.

“Oh, believe me I am.”

I sit at the counter and start to eat. I didn’t realise how hungry I was until now.

“Iced tea,” he rolls the bottle towards me. “Tried it. Tastes amazing. Think everything tastes good now… we used to boil everything.”

I scrunch my nose and he laughs.

For a moment it feels like there’s no mission, no responsibilities, no problems. Just this. Having lunch at 4am with a handsome, charming man.

“I saw the photos… read your history books. You had a best friend?”

Steve nods. “Bucky. He was all I had. He was my brother. We grew up together, both really hated bullies so we got along. I never had anyone believe in me like he did. He’s saved my life more times that he knows.” He looks solemnly at his hands which are restless. “We were on a mission on the alps and he saved me at the cost of his own life.”

“There’s nothing you could have done for him. You should know that.” I know the look on his face; the look of guilt and regret. The thoughts of I should’ve done more.

He nods though I know it’s still on his mind.

“You’d think after 70 years I’d be over it.”

“Well, it was only a couple of days for you. Technically.”

He smirks in amusement. “Technically.”

“Steve. We should get going…”

“Yeah, gotta follow through your mission, don’t ya?”

We leave the safe house and get into the car Steve stole.

“I have a quinjet in a clearing outside of New York. We can take it and get back to the Red Room.”

I start the engine and I can see the gears turning behind his eyes.

“Who started the war?”

“It’s a war for power so SHIELD did. They take everything. So we stop them. That’s all we know. Digging into the past is forbidden.”

“What will you do when we get to the Red Room?”

“I don’t trust the current powers in charge… Dreykov will know what to do.”

🖤🖤🖤

Was this too fast pace, pls lmk!!

part 2

#marvel #reader insert #mcu #reader #fanfiction #steve rogers #captain america #captain america fanfic #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #black widow!reader #hydra!reader #hydra #brainwashed!reader #underworld #winter soldier

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