#he is the only reason I'm watching I Feel You Linger in the Air

[respectthepetty]

If you need me, I'm stuck in this moment being unreasonable about this man.

[thewulf]

Lost and Found || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - I was wondering if I could request a Jake x Reader. I was thinking a good friends situation where they were both interested in the other but didn’t want to mess up their friend group dynamic and so they never said anything. And of course they were each oblivious to the fact they were into each other,.. Read Rest Here

A/N: Ahhh sorry anon, this took forever to write as I was feeling uninspired. Turns out I just needed to watch TGM and whew! I forgot how much I love Jake Seresin and the TGM crew :) Hope you guys enjoy!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.2k +

T/W : Angsty in the beginning

The air in Virginia was thick with the scent of saltwater and fresh possibility when you first noticed the cocky Lieutenant who was making a beeline towards you. It was a humid afternoon on the naval base, and you, a newly hired trauma surgeon, were immersed in your work, lost in the world of medical charts and patient files. And just as you were about to get up, he walked in with a cocky grin and an air of self-assurance that demanded attention. You knew the type, he had to be a pilot. They just had the air about them.

"Hey there, beautiful," he greeted you with a wink, his voice carrying across the room with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. Yeah, he was a pilot. Only they had the reassurance to be so fearless on a first interaction.

You raised an eyebrow at his boldness, unimpressed but intrigued by his approach. "Can I help you with something?" you replied, your tone cool and collected. You knew how to deal with his type. Be dismissive. Ignore them and eventually they’ll get bored enough to leave you alone.

The blonde-haired man slid into the seat opposite you, his grin never faltering as he leaned in closer. "Just couldn't resist the chance to introduce myself to the most captivating woman on base," he said smoothly, his words dripping with charm.

A chuckle escaped your lips, though you tried to suppress it. That was a new one for sure. "Flattery will get you nowhere Lieutenant," you responded, a hint of amusement in your voice.

He grinned in response, undeterred by your playful resistance. His eyes flashed down to your chest which displayed your rank and last name. "Ah, but I'm not just trying to flatter you Lieutenant Commander. I genuinely want to know the name of the woman who's been keeping me up at night," he admitted, his tone sincere but laced with playful arrogance.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his persistence. "Well, in that case, I suppose you'll have to earn it," you teased, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. For whatever reason you were having fun with this interaction. It wasn’t often you would give these Navy boys much time but there was something about him. Something that had you setting down your charts to get a good look at him.

Jake leaned back in his chair, his expression turning thoughtful. "Fair enough," he conceded, his gaze locking with yours. "I'm Jake, by the way. And you are?"

You maintained a playful smile, keeping him guessing as you decided to reveal just a fragment of yourself. "I'm a trauma surgeon," you replied cryptically, letting the mystery linger in the air. It was then that you noticed how handsome he was. Blonde, clean-cut hair and deep green eyes… who wouldn’t swoon for that?

Jake's eyebrows lifted in genuine surprise, his cocky demeanor momentarily faltering. "A trauma surgeon? Now, that's impressive," he remarked, a newfound respect coloring his tone. "Here I am, just a pilot, and you're out there saving lives and I take them."

You chuckled softly at his dark humor, appreciating the humility that so rarely came from the pilots you had known in the past. "It's not a competition," You assured him, feeling a sense of something beginning to form between the two of you. No wonder he was so cocky. He was striking and a pilot to boot? It should’ve been over then and there, but he drew you in further than you had ever intended.

Jake nodded, his gaze lingering on you with a newfound sense of admiration. "I know, but still...what you do is pretty incredible. Badass even.” he said earnestly, a genuine warmth in his voice.

As the conversation continued to flow between you, a comfortable exchange began to form, fueled by mutual respect and a shared sense of adventure. And though you kept him guessing with your playful evasions, there was a part of you that couldn't help but feel drawn to Jake – to his confidence, his charm, and the undeniable spark that crackled between you. And so, as the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the mess hall and the sounds of laughter filled the air, you found yourself fascinated by Jake, captivated by his irresistible charm and magnetic personality. Little did you know, this chance encounter would be the beginning of a friendship – and perhaps something more – that would change the course of your lives forever.

Over time, you found yourself drawn to him in ways you couldn't quite explain. Despite the demands of your respective roles on the base, you made time to see each other whenever you could – stolen moments between shifts, late-night conversations beneath the stars, stolen glances in the dimly lit corridors of the barracks. Everyone knew of the two of you. Clearly in love but too stupid to do anything about it.

But beneath the surface, there was an unspoken tension between you, a lingering sense of longing that neither of you dared to acknowledge. You were both fiercely independent individuals, committed to your careers and reluctant to jeopardize the fragile balance of your friendship with something as unpredictable as love. So, you buried your feelings beneath layers of professionalism, convincing yourself that it was better this way – safer, more practical, less likely to end in utter heartbreak. But no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, the spark between you refused to be extinguished, flickering to life with each passing glance, each fleeting touch.

Then, on a random Tuesday afternoon, Jake dropped a bombshell that shattered the delicate equilibrium you had worked so hard to maintain. "I'm being reassigned after this deployment," he confessed, his voice tinged with regret. "To Miramar."

As Jake's words sank in, a heavy silence enveloped the room, suffocating you with the weight of what his departure truly meant. You had been through so much together over the past three years. The highs and the lows, the laughter, and the tears. And now, faced with the prospect of his absence, you couldn't help but feel as though a piece of your heart was being torn away.

"Miramar? To Top Gun?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper, betraying the ache in your heart. You knew it was everything he had been working towards. And you knew how damn good of a pilot he was. It just surprised you how soon he was getting sent there. He must’ve been the best of the best.

Jake nodded. His expression somber. "Yeah. It's everything I’ve been working towards, but..." His voice trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken, hanging in the air like a heavy cloud of regret.

But all you could feel was a sense of loss. For the friendship you had built, for the moments you had shared, for the possibility of something more that now seemed out of reach. "I'm so happy for you, Jake. You deserve it. You deserve the whole world." You forced the words out, though they felt like shards of glass tearing at your soul. A single tear escaped your eye, tracing a silent path down your cheek.

Jake reached out, gently wiping away the tear with a look of utter despair in his eyes, as if he couldn't bear to see you cry. "I wish you could come with me," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with a longing you knew mirrored your own. He grabbed for your hand joining his fingers in with yours.

Tears welled up in your eyes once more, threatening to spill over at any moment. "I know," you replied, your voice thick with unshed tears. "But I'm still in the middle of my fellowship. I can't just drop everything and leave. No matter how badly I want to." Another tear escaped as you realized what this meant. Your little bubble of happiness was going to vanish in an instant.

Jake nodded in understanding, his grip on your hand tightening as if trying to hold onto the moment for just a little while longer. "I know," he murmured, his gaze filled with a mixture of sadness and longing, mirroring the storm of emotions raging within your own heart.

Then, as if trying to lighten the mood, he flashed a small smile. "You know, I used to dream of being a Top Gun pilot when I was a kid," he confessed, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "Never thought I'd actually get the chance to fly jets like that."

You couldn't help but smile through your tears, touched by his vulnerability. "You've come a long way from your childhood dreams Jake. I knew you’d be able to do it. If anybody could, it’s you," you remarked softly, a sense of pride swelling within you despite the ache in your heart. Because he did deserve it. He may have come off as an arrogant asshole at first, but he was anything but that. He was your best friend. The man who looked out for you over himself time and time again. You loved him but you held it close to your chest. Because you did love him you had to let him go. Let him go live his dreams.

And as the reality of his departure settled over you like a dark cloud. You couldn't help but wonder how you would ever find the strength to say goodbye to him. As you sat there together, holding hands beneath the harsh fluorescent lights of the barracks, you realized that no matter where life took you, no matter how far apart you may be, the bond you shared with Jake would endure – a constant reminder of the love and friendship that had blossomed in the unlikeliest of places.

After Jake's departure, life on the base took on a different rhythm. The days stretched into weeks, and the weeks into months, each passing moment marked by the absence of his laughter, his warmth, his unwavering presence by your side. Despite the distance, you and Jake still found solace in occasional phone calls and sporadic messages, though never as often as you wished.

On an ordinary day, your world was turned upside down once again. Your commanding officer called you into his office, his expression serious as he delivered the news. "Doctor Y/L/N. I have some important news for you," he began, his tone solemn. "Due to some unforeseen circumstances, we've had to make some adjustments to our staffing plan. You're being reassigned."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a sense of unease settling over you. "Reassigned? But I thought I was heading to Austin for my next rotation. Replacing Doctor Warmack." you replied, trying to mask the anxiety in your voice. You had plans. You were moving to Texas. You had a house picked out. A life you were planning to start. But then again, you were in the military. You should’ve expected this.

Your CO shook his head, his expression unreadable. "Plans have changed. Chula Vista is in urgent need of a trauma surgeon of your caliber," he explained, his words sending a jolt of shock through your system.

Upon hearing the news of your reassignment to Chula Vista, a whirlwind of questions surged within you. "Sir, may I ask where Chula Vista is located?" you inquired tentatively, your voice betraying a mix of curiosity and apprehension. You hadn’t heard of that base. And you could’ve sworn you knew all the potential bases you could’ve been assigned to.

Your commanding officer, a seasoned veteran with a weathered expression, glanced up from his desk, his gaze thoughtful. "Chula Vista is a city just south of here, part of the San Diego metropolitan area," he explained as he pointed to the map of the states, his tone carrying a sense of gravitas. "It's home to several military installations, including Naval Air Station North Island and Naval Base Coronado. It's also in close proximity to Marine Corps Air Station Miramar.”

The mention of North Island and Miramar sent a jolt of emotion through you, memories of Jake flooding your mind with a bittersweet intensity. "Chula Vista also supports Top Gun operations, among many other military endeavors," the CO continued, his voice steady as he provided further context.

You were heading to exactly where Jake was. A shiver of anxiety ripped through you as you processed his words. “Thank you, sir," you replied, a mixture of gratitude and anticipation swelling within you.

As you turned to leave, the weight of the news settled over you, mingling with a newfound sense of purpose. Chula Vista, a city steeped in military history, a place where your path will intersect with Jake's once more. And though uncertainty loomed on the horizon, there was a glimmer of hope shining through. The possibility of reconnecting with Jake and the chance to explore what the future held in store.

As the days passed and your departure drew nearer, you found yourself grappling with a dilemma: should you reach out to Jake before making the move to Chula Vista, or should you let fate take its course and surprise him? The months of silence between you weighed heavily on your mind, leaving you uncertain of where you stood with him. Would he be glad to hear from you, or would your sudden reappearance only complicate things further?

Part of you longed to reach out, to bridge the gap that had formed between you and reconnect before the distance between you grew even wider. But another part of you feared rejection, feared that your efforts would be met with indifference or worse… that Jake had moved on without you.

In the end, you couldn't shake the feeling that fate was leading you back to Jake, guiding you toward a reunion that was long overdue. And so, with a leap of faith, you made the decision to keep your plans a secret, to let the element of surprise be your ally. With each passing day, your anticipation grew, your excitement mingling with a touch of nervousness as you prepared for your move to Chula Vista. And as you boarded the plane bound for your new home, you couldn't help but wonder what the future held in store for you, for Jake, and for the bond that had endured despite the trials and tribulations that had threatened to tear you apart.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the Hard Deck. You found yourself seated at the bar, engaged in conversation with Penny, the owner of the establishment. The ambience was relaxed, with the murmur of chatter and the clinking of glasses providing a soothing backdrop to your discussion.

Penny, a vibrant and charismatic woman with a penchant for storytelling, leaned in with genuine interest as she got to know you. "So, what brings you to the Hard Deck? I haven’t seen you around here before," she asked, a playful twinkle in her eye.

You offered her a warm smile, appreciating her genuine curiosity. "Just got here a week ago. I've heard so much about this place from my coworkers," you explained, gesturing to the bustling bar around you. "They all recommended it as the must-visit bar in Miramar."

Penny's eyes lit up at your mention of coworkers. "Ah, you must be part of the base personnel then," she observed, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips.

You nodded, a sense of camaraderie forming between you. "I am! I'm a trauma surgeon over at the hospital in Chula Vista," you confirmed.

At the mention of your role, Penny's expression shifted, her eyes widening with recognition. "Wait a minute... are you Y/N? Doctor Y/L/N?" she asked, her voice tinged with excitement.

Surprised by her sudden enthusiasm and knowing of your name, you nodded cautiously. "Yes, that's me. But how did you...?" you trailed off, curious about Penny's sudden change in demeanor. Her excitement was palpable, you could feel it in the air.

Penny beamed at you. "Oh, Jake talks about you all the time! You're one of his favorites," she revealed, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes.

A warmth spread through your chest at her words, touched by Jake's apparent fondness for you. "He does?" you asked, unable to conceal the smile that tugged at your lips.

Penny nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely! He's always mentioning how talented and dedicated you are. He won’t admit it… or he doesn’t recognize it, but that man is head over heels for you, Doctor," she added with a playful wink.

You couldn't help but chuckle at Penny's teasing, feeling a flutter of anticipation as thoughts of Jake filled your mind. Little did you know, your reunion with him was just moments away, and the excitement of seeing him again filled you with a sense of joyful anticipation. Penny's mischievous grin widened as she caught sight of your reaction. "Oh, don't try to hide it, Y/N. I can see that spark in your eye," she teased, nudging you playfully.

You couldn't help but laugh, feeling a rush of nervous energy coursing through you. "Alright, you caught me," you admitted with a grin. "I'm looking forward to catching up with an old friend."

As you sat at the bar, lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the door swinging open, admitting a group of pilots. It wasn't until Penny nudged you once more and whispered excitedly that you looked up, your heart skipping a beat as you caught sight of Jake among them.

Before you could react, Jake's eyes locked onto yours, a look of sheer astonishment crossing his face. In a flash, he broke into a wide grin and dashed toward you, weaving through the crowd with purpose. You barely had time to register what was happening before Jake was upon you, pulling you into a massive bear hug that lifted you off your feet. Laughter bubbled up from deep within you as he spun you around in a whirlwind of joy and excitement, the world around you fading away as you surrendered to the moment.

"Y/N!" Jake exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine delight as he held you close, his grip on you tight and unyielding. You couldn't help but laugh along with him, feeling the warmth of his embrace enveloping you like a familiar cocoon. In that moment, it didn't matter who was watching or what anyone else thought. All that mattered was the sheer exhilaration of being reunited with Jake, of feeling his arms around you once again.

"What the hell are you doing here without telling me, Doc?" Jake exclaimed, his voice filled with mock indignation as he held you close, refusing to let you go.

You laughed, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you at the familiarity of his embrace. "Surprise?" you replied, unable to keep the grin from your face as you met his gaze.

Jake shook his head, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, consider me surprised," he admitted, his tone playful as he finally set you back down on solid ground. “I have to say, this is the best surprise I've had in a long time." As you stood there together, wrapped up in each other's arms, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. Despite the years that had passed since you last saw each other, it felt as though no time had passed at all. As though you had simply picked up right where you left off.

As the warmth of your embrace lingered, Jake's eyes remained fixed on yours, a softness settling over his features as he took in the sight of you. His hand remained firmly on your shoulder, his touch comforting and reassuring.

"I've missed you, Y/N," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke. "More than you'll ever know." You felt a swell of emotion rise within you at his words, the sincerity in his voice stirring something deep within your heart. Despite the distance and the time that had passed, the connection between you felt as strong as ever – a testament to the bond you shared.

Before you could respond, Jake's gaze softened even further, a flicker of determination shining in his eyes as he made a decision. Without hesitation, he reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours in a silent gesture of solidarity. "Let's catch up," he suggested, his voice filled with a quiet determination. "There's so much I want to tell you, so much I want to share."

You nodded, a smile spreading across your face at his eagerness to spend time together. "I'd love that," you replied, feeling a surge of excitement at the prospect of reconnecting with Jake.

As you stepped outside into the cool night air, the sound of laughter and music fading into the background, Jake turned to you, his expression earnest. "Y/N, there's something I need to say," he began, his voice tinged with nervousness.

You looked at him, curiosity piqued by his serious tone. "What is it, Jake?" you asked, concern flickering in your eyes.

Jake took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "I've thought about this moment for so long, wondering if I'd ever get the chance to tell you how I feel," he confessed, his gaze unwavering as he met your eyes.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, anticipation building within you as you waited for him to speak. "How you feel?" you prompted, unable to contain the hope in your voice.

Jake's lips curved into a tender smile, his eyes shining with sincerity. "Y/N, I've been wanting to tell you for so long, but I've been too afraid," he admitted, his voice filled with vulnerability. Before you could respond, he took a step closer, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek gently. "I want to be with you, Y/N," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "I want to make up for lost time and see where this goes."

Your heart fluttered at his words, and as you gazed into his eyes, you found yourself lost in the depths of his sincerity. His vulnerability touched you in a way you hadn't expected, and you felt a surge of affection for him that was impossible to ignore. But before you could respond, Jake took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours. "May I kiss you?" he asked, his voice soft but filled with determination.

Your breath caught in your throat at his question, surprised by his respect and thoughtfulness. You nodded eagerly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Please, Jake," you replied with certainty, your voice barely above a whisper. "Of course."

As Jake's lips met yours, a surge of warmth flooded through your entire body. It was as if every nerve in you ignited with a newfound energy, responding to the tender, loving touch of his kiss. Your senses were overwhelmed by the sensation of his lips against yours, soft and yielding yet filled with an undeniable passion. Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the sweetness of his embrace. His lips moved against yours with a gentle rhythm, each kiss sending sparks of electricity coursing through your veins. It was one of those kisses filled with longing and desire, a silent confession of the feelings that had been building between you for so long.

Your knees threatened to buckle beneath you as the intensity of the moment washed over you, but Jake's strong arms wrapped around you, holding you close and steady. His touch was both comforting and electrifying, grounding you in the present moment even as you felt yourself swept away by the sheer emotion of it all. His hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer to him as if he could never bear to let you go again. They were warm and reassuring, tracing the curves of your spine with a tenderness that left you breathless. For the first time in your life, you felt utterly and completely cherished, as if you were the most important person in the world to him. Because you were and he was determined to show you that.

As the kiss deepened, the world around you faded into nothingness, leaving only the two of you in your own private cocoon of love and desire. It was a moment you would treasure forever, a testament to the depth of the connection you shared with Jake.

When you finally pulled away, your lips still tingling from the sweetness of his, you found yourself lost in his eyes once again. As you gazed into Jake's, feeling the weight of his gaze and the depth of his love, a sense of peace washed over you. It was as if all the pieces of the puzzle had finally fallen into place, and you knew, deep in your heart, that this was where you were meant to be.

With a gentle smile, Jake pressed his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered softly, "I am never letting you go again." His words filled you with a sense of warmth and belonging, reassuring you that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. While you gazed into the depths of his soul, you knew that this was just the beginning of a new chapter in your story together.

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[fqntasies]

The First Kiss - Feyd Rautha x Reader

summary: You are visiting Giedi Prime once again. As you've grown older, the pull you feel around the na-baron is stronger, deeper, even if you've never spoken on it. Does he dream of you too? Will you be able to speak of them to him, or will such dreams remain as such forever? We he be able to resist you?

disclaimer: this is a kind of follow up fic to my last feyd x reader. However, this takes place before that time frame. Read the first one here to get a better understanding of how i'm approaching my feyd stories.

words: 1,111

This was the fifth time your family's entourage had visited Giedi Prime; your betrothed's home planet. Each stay got a little more familiar. Perhaps it was the smell of the air. The caress of the blinding black sun above; brilliant and strange; a blot in the heavens. You felt enraptured in it somehow. Like a feeling you could not shake, though in part you blamed the dreams.

You had yet to speak of them with him.

Had he dreamt too? Surely, the na-baron had. You thought often that he must, if not only for the way his eyes seemed to linger on you when you shared a space, no matter how many resided in it. You felt wholly consumed by it. There was a heaviness in his actions, weighted by their directness; when his gaze would meet yours, your pulse would quicken, breaths catch in your chest.

Sometimes, even in silence, in those spaces you shared among the others of your families, you found him lingering close. Felt the heat of him at your back. The hand at his side ever so close to caressing the edge of your hip. He was possessive. Protective.

You two had shared such few words, yet you knew this about him already. Nor could you deny the way it made you feel. A magnetism. Something at the edge that was just out of reach. For now.

"My lady." You startle at the closeness of his words, earrings brushing the curve of your neck as you whip swiftly to look up at Feyd.

You had been thinking of him; lost in your own thoughts. He seemed to read it in your gaze, dark eyes flitting between yours, shadows blanketing the angles of his face. There is a palpable silence as his gaze lowers to your lips. That heat you'd come to know with him. Your mouth waters at the ghost of his kisses in your mind. A seemingly distant future in visions of your marriage.

You vaguely catch the Baron's smug rasp to your father something about spice production, but they have trailed out of the room before you catch the full statement; leading a train of servants in their wake, and the hissing of levitation technology.

When you speak it is but a breathy sound.

"My lord na-baron."

"-Feyd." He quips. low and sudden.

You swallow thickly, a flush beneath your cheeks as you meet his eyes. His given name. You hadn't used it yet, save your own thoughts, and whispers to yourself at night in the safety of your room. It seemed a sacred thing. Something intimate. Something of your yet-to-be-husband's.

The na-baron watches you intently; his body imperceptibly closer, as though seeking to envelope you in his shadow. Predator and prey. You decide to broach the subject. The feeling between you...you must know if it is something of your own mind.

"Feyd Rautha". For some reason the use of his full name from your lips makes him smile. A bizarre sight, being so rare - and this grin looked almost amused. Like he had not been expecting the addendum, humorous. You are quick to try and follow up with your request, cheeks hot.

"I must ask something rather delicate, pertaining to our betrothal."

At that he seems to sober a bit, obviously unsure about whatever it was you were to follow with.

"Do you..." You wish you could know a thing beyond just your own feelings. The twisting of your stomach at the thought he could reject you tearing your insides.

"...Do you dream?"

For a moment, there is that heavy silence again, but then you see the slow curl of his lips, just at the edges. Oh, he seems to say. Followed by a soft and knowing hum.

"Is that what this is about?"

He is coming closer now, stalking you in a few calculated steps with that same smile. Your chest heaves with your breaths as you make way backwards, but then he has an arm about your waist, and mentally you are aware of the heat of him, and the strength. You feel like you've lost some game, or been suddenly caught cheating.

That's when you taste him. His mouth has tilted upon yours, slotted against you like you were meant to be there and you moan softly. Surprised that this moment has come at all - yet wanton for it too. How many nights had you dreamed of him holding you like this? Wondering what it might be like for him to lean in and kiss you?

Feyd swallows your sigh greedily. Readily. The arm he has around you pulls you into him further, and you are pleasantly surprised by how soft his lips are, and how good he tastes. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip.

You angle your head opening for him further, learning as you go. He was so quietly calculated, and yet he kissed you like a man starved, uncaring of who saw or who tried to stop him. Not that any being could. You would bet everything that the na-baron would slice any fool willing to try, to shreds. You'd seen his bloodlust, and his prowess in the arena. Such a feat might even excite him, with you as his prize.

He seemed eager to hold back his need for air - kissing as deeply as he could. Slow. Then fast. As though his control would slip and he has to taste more of you. More. More. His tongue sought yours in a dance, followed by teeth tugging at your lips. You mewled softly at that, eyes so heavy. You felt almost drugged, and after a moment too long, you both parted, breaths breaking the silence.

His hands are at your hips now, holding you steady, but your faces were still just a fraction apart. You felt proud of the way Feyd's eyes looked heavy lidded, or how his lips were tinged pink. It drew your eyes in a way that had him groaning.

"Careful, princess..." The nickname has your cheeks heating again, even after being kissed senseless, and he chuckles low in his chest. The smells of spice and some kind of foreign cologne fill your senses as he nears again, this time bringing his mouth towards your ear. You close your eyes, barely able to keep them open as you angle your head slightly to the side.

"-Or I might have to make more of my dreams a reality."

The admittance, and the low tone of his voice so close has you turning your face and opening for him once more, your breaths colliding as he is quick to seek your tongue with his own.

[lcriedlastnight]

Can you do a fluffy and angsty fic for Lando after Austria, his girl comforting him. I'm surprised there aren't more after what happened under the tags but the only ones that were there are smut, which I don't really want to read I want fluff and angst.

sorry it took me so long to respond anon! i've been swamped.

tw: fem! reader, swears, AUSTRIA!!!!, lmk if you want me to add anything.

w/c: 1k

you watch as lando trailed after max and you knew one of two things was inevitable. either lando was going to overtake max and finally take the lead after what seemed like forever, or the two boys were going to crash into each other.

you watch with one eye open every time lando tries to overtake max. you makes your body tense up as you fear that this will be the time their tires touch. you try to stay hopeful but you know that this will not end well, neither drivers willing to give up their positions and both trying to fight for that first place position.

it happens so quickly, it was a blink and you'll miss it incident. all you see is lando's mclaren try another move on max then something flying in the air. you can hear shouts from the mclaren team around you but you were still confused, you were not sure what exactly was happening. you watch as max slows down and lando finally overtakes him. you hear that he has received a five second penalty. you see a flash of a red bull fly past in the pit lane and then suddenly, lando's own car is stopped, practically half of its back wheel missing. it is then that it finally registers. they had contact and it had caused lando to retire from the race (you later found out it was his own decision).

you had not been with lando long enough to know what to do in this kind of situation. you just stay where you are for ten minutes until maybe the last few laps of the race when you feel lando's presence looming around you.

he does not even have to ask you to follow him as he heads towards his drivers room, head bowed down, not even looking where he was going. the boy was lucky he did not walk into any walls. if it had been any other situation you would have laughed at his carelessness but right now you had no clue how to act.

once you were both in the privacy of his room, lando slumps down on the little couch headfirst. you linger at the door, your hands longing to soothe him and your mind crying out to tell him it will all be alright.

"are you alright?" you question. it comes off timid as much as you tried to seem confident. you knew it was a silly question. you knew he was not fine but you just felt like you had to ask. lando sighs into one of the throw pillows at the question. for some reason this is what spurs you to spring into action. you take the few steps over to join him on the couch and sit as the space next to his feet.

"lando, look at me." you tell him, you voice much more firm and stable than before. lando does as you ask and turns himself so he is facing you and looks at you so sadly he might as well have just ripped out your heart out and jumped on it right there and then.

"that was all max's fault. you did nothing wrong. you tried an overtake, you wouldn't be a racer if you just sat back and let max lead the whole race. you're the only person on the grid who is consistently challenging max every weekend, that's something to be proud of.” you grab his hand gently and let your thumb rub it's own path along the skin of wrist.

"i'm shit. i've had one win and now i can't seem to do it again and when i finally get the chance to, like today, max just fucks me up because he would rather dnf than finish second! and he didn't even retire the fucking car he actually kept on racing which makes me look even worse!" by the end of his rant his voice was louder and you could see the tears of frustration in his eyes.

you swiftly pull him up by his hand to be face to face with you. you hold eye contact with him, letting him know how much you meant what you were going to say.

"you are not shit, lando. you've had one win and now you're hungry for more, of course it's gonna hurt a little when you come second again but listen to me. every single race you are getting closer and closer to max. i know you want it to be now but just because it isn't doesn't mean you're shit. it just means that max knows you are more of a threat than before miami and he can't just saunter along like he did at the start of the season. you're doing so well, please don't doubt yourself."

lando listens through your entire rant without trying to interrupt once and once you are finished talking he drops his head into your lap. "i really, really thought i was gonna get it this time. i really wanted it." he mumbles into your thigh. you know it is killing him and you cannot stand it. you know the only thing you can do to help him though, is to listen to him and give him the most comfort you can manage.

you sigh, hand coming to run through his sweaty, messy curls. "i know, baby. it's coming and it will be so fucking great when it does. i'll be here waiting for you and then we can celebrate like it's first, huh? that sound good?"

you can feel the small smile lando manages on your leg as he nods against it.

you stay like that for what seems like ages but you know it cannot be that long because before lando can even ask the time there is a knock on his door, alerting him that he had press to do in two minutes. he sighs and hauls himself from his comfortable position.

"you're so strong lan, be strong." you tell him with a quick kiss to his lips. lando knows it is a good luck kiss. lando also knows that you know how much he hates doing any kind of press or media when he was feeling like this.

"wish you could come with me." lando's frown is so deep it sort of looks like a half pout half frown. you smile at his cuteness.

"when you come back we can go back to the hotel, order in and watch that adam sandler film you like."

this seems to perk the boy up significantly as he give you a peck on the forehead before rushing out to get his media done and dusted. a night in with you sounded like heaven to him right now. he did not want to me reminded of the events of the day's race but he would put up with it for the end result. you and him cuddled up, together. it is all he ever wants.

[ninetailedfoxmanchi]

BTS! Mafia - They Are the Rival Boss Who Likes You (pt. 1)

Request: they rescue you from your abusive boyfriend who is the boss of the rival gang (This request came in over a year ago by anon but thank you so much, I love this idea - it kept me up at night - and I am so sorry it took me so long to write it!)

A/N: I had no one specific in mind when I wrote Kang; the name was chosen solely for the purpose of not having to write B/N all the time. This will get a pt. 2 or it may become even a tiny mini-series, so any ideas for the continuation are welcome!

Warnings: mentions of abuse and violence

MASTERLIST

Backstory:

You have been dating Kang for more than two years and in the beginning, he was perfect. He was sweet and a gentleman but the longer you stayed together, the more you began to see the other side of him. Kang was always angry or upset, always finding something he disliked about you. He grew more jealous and insecure by the day, even having his men follow you secretly sometimes. It escalated to the point where Kang would raise his voice and threaten you regularly. It happened only moments before you had to attend a benefit with your boyfriend. You had an argument where you tried to make Kang see reason about ending your relationship, but he took your arm and pulled you to him, his eyes blind with insecurity. "You are not leaving me," Kang growled against your face as he held your arm tight enough to break it with a single move. "Ever."

* * *

Jin

You accepted a glass of champagne from one of the waiters, finding your reflection in one of the decorative mirrors. The black evening gown with long sleeves that hid your bruise you wore was stunning yet you felt anything but. These past few months took a toll on both your mental as well as physical health but you could not see a way out.

You found Kang's reflection behind yours, his back turned to you as he laughed with some of his wealthy benefactors.

"You look beautiful," said someone out of the sudden. You turned around coming face to face with none other than Kim Seokjin. Your eyes widened in surprise. You knew him - you remembered him because you spoke at the last benefit. When Kang learned of it however, he threatened that you should never to speak to him again or there would be consequences. Jin was Kang's biggest rival.

The sweet smile on Kim's lips disappeared slowly when you did not say anything. You were taken aback by the warmth of his presence and the kindness of his smile after the evening you have had.

"Thank you," you managed at last, your fingers cold with sweat as you glanced over in your boyfriend's direction. The shadow of his frame stepped out on the terrace for a cigar with his colleagues and you breathed more easily.

You had not noticed but Kim's gaze followed yours out on the terrace before you looked back into his dark eyes. Your body trembled. You are never leaving me. Ever.

"Are you alri—"

"Help me."

The two of you spoke at the same time, your voice hushed as you began to feel tears creep into your eyes. Your gaze was locked with Kim's. You saw the way he looked at you at the last benefit, how his eyes lingered on you even when you were in the company of your boyfriend. He stayed at the events all the while you stayed although all of his friends have already left only so that the three of you could wait for your cars together. Kim did not say anything but it could not have been a coincidence.

You looked away, blinking back the tears. You found yourself embarrassed - what did you think would happen; he would help you out of the goodness of his heart and risk a falling out between the companies?

"I'm sorry," you shook your head and offered Jin a small smile, in disbelief with yourself of how silly you were.

You placed down your champagne and made to get some air.

"Meet me at the fountain in five minutes," spoke Jin discretely as he passed you by, giving no indication to anyone who could be watching that he said anything at all.

You froze, your gaze locked on his back as he walked away, your heart in your throat. The heat of adrenaline flushed through your body when you looked around the venue of merry guests. You took a fresh glass of champagne before your eyes met your boyfriend's across the dance floor. He rose his glass of scotch to you only slightly, a smile on his lips although his eyes were cold and insecure. You mimicked the gesture and smiled as best you could before greeting one of the wives of the benefactors. You soon excused yourself and walked outside, placing the untouched glass of champagne on the stone fence. You glanced behind you but there wasn't a soul.

You walked down to the fountain holding up the skirt of your dress. The heels nearly made you trip, not because you struggled to walk in them but because your entire body trembled with fear and adrenaline.

"Come," you heard Kim's voice out of nowhere. He was suddenly beside you, his large hand barely brushing against your back as he led you to a car that has been waiting. You sat in without hesitation after Kim held the door for you and he took the driver's seat. You did not ask where he was taking you, but anywhere would be better than returning home with Kang. You did not want to imagine what that would be like.

You followed Jin into the elevator that took you to the top of a large skyscraper. There was security on every corner on the way up, making you uneasy. They seemed like the kind of men that Kang would order to follow you.

"Are these your men?" you asked when the two of you reached a pair of doors. Two men stood opposite it, clad in all black with a bulletproof vest and some sort of firearm in their hands.

Jin glanced at the men, following your gaze. "They are," he confirmed and typed in the security code for the door. "They are loyal men," he added as if he could hear your thoughts.

You nodded as Kim let you inside of his apartment. It was vast and minimalist with a warm shade of white predominating, making the rooms bright and inviting although it had began to rain outside.

You took off your heels, now standing much shorter next to Kim. The reality of it all hit you like a brick.

"What will happen now?" you asked, looking up at Jin. You thought of Kang, of their business and the rivalry, how this would be seen as a betrayal of the already fragile peace ...

"Nothing," said Jin lightly as if what happened from now on was not your problem to solve.

Kim took off the jacket of his tuxedo and placed it neatly over one of the kitchen chairs.

"Are you hungry?"

Namjoon

The benefit was held at a beautiful country manor but you could not care for the rose bushes or the crystal chandeliers. You had snuck out to escape your boyfriend and his band of colleagues. Kang often teased you and spoke badly about you in front of his friends, then tried to convince you how it was all in your head, the way he treated you. You could not stand another evening like that, not after everything that had already happened before you even came to the benefit.

You ran your fingers across your elbow absent-mindedly as you leaned against the stone fence of the staircase that led to the manor. For a long time, there wasn't a soul until you head the click of a lighter and the inhale of smoke. You turned around, recognizing a familiar dark figure near the side entrance. The man inhaled, the tip of the cigarette lighting up as he stepped out of the shadows. It was Kim Namjoon. You heard of him long before you met him yourself at one of these sort of events. He was the leader of Kang's rival company and the man your boyfriend despised most in the world.

You looked away quickly, pretending to look at the moonlit gardens of the country manor. You had spoken once or twice to Mr Kim yourself. He was nothing short of a gentleman but you thought Kang was a gentleman too at first.

"Not enjoying yourself?" asked Mr Kim as he came over to you. The smoke of his cigarette followed him, mingled with the scent of his perfume. Your stomach was already in knots from your argument with Kang; you could not even imagine what he would do to you if he found out you had spoken to Kim again.

"What is there to enjoy?" you whispered to yourself, looking down at the stone fence. Kim's gaze studied you, you could feel it burning into your body. He smiled at first - he hated these kinds of events too. They were dull and nothing but false pretenses but they were a part of the job. And yet the smile drained from his eyes.

"Do you need some help?" asked Kim darkly, his question surprising you. You looked up into his eyes as they shifted between your arm and your gaze. You wore a beautiful one-sleeved dress that hugged your body only that the sleeve was on the wrong arm.

In an instant your eyes filled with tears although you had not as much as missed to smile once all evening. You looked away embarrassed.

"What could you possibly do?" you asked not unkindly, your voice cracking with hopelessness.

Kim took one last drag from his cigarette and flicked it over the fence. He took your palm as he exhaled, leading you to the parking lot with him. Kim only needed to raise his hand toward the valet and they brought over his car.

"Get in," said Kim gently as he quickly opened the door for you. You stared at him astounded before you got in, glancing over your shoulder if your boyfriend or one of his men noticed you leaving. There was nothing there but the sound of laughter echoing from inside the manor.

"It's safe here," said Kim when the two of you walked across the lobby of an apartment building. There were guards everywhere holding heavy weapons.

"What is this place?" you asked warily as the elevator door opened to introduce another smaller hall with a pair of doors protected with a safety code.

"It's my apartment," said Kim, typing in the code and opening the door for you. You hesitated, your gaze freezing on Namjoon. He of all people knew what this would mean for him, for his business. He turned to you when you did not follow him inside.

"Are you sure?" you asked. Kim could have just dropped you off at a train station and be rid of you - why take you to his apartment and exposing himself?

"I'm sure," said Namjoon, not a hint of a doubt in his dark eyes.

Yoongi

Kang's hand rested tightly on your waist as you were forced to entertain his benefactors and their wives. Benefits like this were far from uncommon, a charitable cause more often than not serving as a cover for the dealings that really went on.

Simply holding a glass of champagne and keeping your arm tense made the pain in your elbow worsen. You wore a black couture gown with beautiful puffy sleeves of white silk that covered the dark bruise in the shape of Kang's fingerprints.

You tried to smile politely and keep your calm but every once in a while your brows would fall and hopelessness would creep into your eyes. You looked around the luxurious venue, seeing many familiar faces, most of them Kang's colleagues. As your gaze began to drift back to your interlocutors, it returned to familiar dark eyes. You knew those eyes. They belonged to Min Yoongi. You met him some months ago when he attended one of these events for the first time in a while but never missed one since. After Kang learned that you talked, he threatened to break every bone in your body if you did so again. Min was one of is greatest rivals.

You looked down at your champagne. The drink was only getting warm in your hands as you were not in the mood to drink or anything else for that matter. You did not know what it was but seeing Min and the way that his dark eyes found you in that crowd was the last straw. Tears pushed into your eyes and threatened to fall.

You excused yourself to use the ladies' room, Kang's hand reluctantly letting go of your waist. You wanted to keep your gaze on the floor but as you passed by Min your eyes locked with his. The scent of his fragrance lingered on you after you walked past him. You made for the ladies room, your eyes watering with hot tears and making you walk even faster before anyone could see you cry. But a hand caught your wrist as you passed by the open terrace, pulling you out into the fresh air.

A soft gasp escaped your lips when you looked up, coming face to face with Min Yoongi.

"What are you doing?" you asked quickly as you shook your head.

"Why are you crying?" asked Min, the smile fading from his eyes.

"What?" You had not even noticed that the tears had slipped down your cheeks.

"Why are you crying?" repeated Min, his voice growing darker but his hands cupped your cheeks and his thumbs brushed away the tears.

"I'm not," you insisted although your chin quivered and your eyes watered once more. You looked down embarrassed, then glanced over your shoulder quickly if your boyfriend had come to look for you already.

"I have to go," you whispered and slipped from his arms. Yoongi caught your elbow, not ready to let you go without an answer. His eyes widened when you whimpered and pulled your arm from his gentle grasp. He had barely touched you. That is when his sharp black eyes noticed the hint of a dark bruise beneath the puffy white sleeve of your dress.

"I'm sorry," you shook your head, "I really have to go." Your voice was but a whisper as your chin quivered yet again with the threat of tears.

"I'm glad we agree," said Yoongi somberly, his fingers locking with yours. He led you across the garden to the parking lot where the valet brought his car.

"What are you doing?" you asked as Yoongi held the door of his car for you. He froze at the sight of your eyes full of tears looking up at him. His hand reached for your face once again, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped your eye.

"Taking you away from someone who doesn't deserve you."

Hoseok

You wore a pale pink satin dress that your boyfriend picked out for the benefit. Although the dress looked stunning on you, if you could have chosen for yourself, the gown would have been black to reflect your spirits. Kang had your hand wrapped around his elbow when you arrived but was soon distracted by other women and his colleagues, leaving you alone. In truth, you preferred it that way. You could not stop thinking about what it will be like when you return home after the benefit. Your elbow was sore enough that it was a struggle even to fix the hem of your dress or simply hold a champagne glass.

You slipped away into the garden and found a lonesome bench where you sat down. You downed the glass of champagne but it did nothing to dull your pain, particularly not that which you felt in your heart. A thousand thoughts ran through your mind; how your relationship began and how sweet Kang was at first. But once you realized his true self it was already too late.

"Hello," greeted a gentle voice, nonetheless it made you wince. You looked up, recognizing the man in front of you.

"I apologize," said Jung Hoseok, "I didn't mean to scare you." He sat down on the bench beside you unobtrusively.

"It's alright," you said more to yourself than to him. You could not hide the sadness on your face and you did not try to. You were just so tired.

"I haven't seen you in a while," you said to Mr Jung, trying to distract yourself from all the horrible things on your mind.

You had spoken once or twice at these sort of things and when you did not have a chance to, you at least greeted each other with your eyes although you often felt Jung's on you long after you had already focused on the people talking to you. You would never disclose to Kang though that you had spoken to Jung Hoseok. You often heard Kang talk about Hoseok with despise as they were rivals. At first you thought Mr Jung's interest in you was on the account of your boyfriend but he never brought up business or even Kang for that matter when he spoke to you.

"I was busy," said Jung with a small smile. His warm gaze cooled when he saw the look in your eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked, studying your expression. You savored what little warmth remained in his gaze a moment longer, not even recalling when was the last time someone asked you that.

You nodded and offered him a reassuring smile although tears forced into your eyes. You tried to blink them away but when you couldn't you turned away, focusing on the garden in the distance.

"Tell me," asked Jung but you shook your head, swallowing back the tears that lingered in your throat.

"I can't," you whispered and did the mistake of looking Hoseok in the eye. He saw the tears that stung your cheeks. His brows fell heavy onto his eyes, his lips in a firm line.

"Just say the word, Y/N," said Hoseok. You looked at him astounded. He could not have known what has been going on and yet he did.

"Please," you whispered and it was enough. Jung's fingers locked with yours as he took you away from the benefit and your boyfriend.

Jimin

As Kang drove to the benefit he sped all the way because he knew it scared you when he did so. You did not say anything, you did not plead because it would only encourage him. Your eyes often filled with tears but you would not let them fall.

You fixed your fitted black gown with puffy see-through sleeves as you exited the car, the valet holding the door open for you. You held a small purse in one hand, Kang's fingers locking with those of your other palm. His grip was so tight you thought he meant to crush your bones.

As you walked up the elegant staircase of the country manor, you saw your boyfriend's greatest rival leaning against the marble fence whilst he spoke to one of his closest colleagues. Yet as you climbed the staircase, Park Jimin's gaze tore from his friend and fixed on you. His lips parted slightly as he took in the elegance that radiated off of you. You had spoken one time at a similar event and ran into him when you were shopping alone once. He was always nothing but a gentleman to you and yet so was Kang when you first met him. There was something different about Park though - a warmth in his eyes that you never saw in Kang.

You dared not look in Park Jimin's direction for more than a moment, already dreading going home with Kang later without him thinking you were fraternizing with his enemy.

Once inside, Kang went to get the two of you champagne. You flexed your numb fingers, a redness forming around your palm where his squeeze was tightest. You glanced around the venue, finding Mr Park's eyes already on you. His gaze shifted from your palm to your face when he saw your eyes turned to him. A frown framed his dark gaze before you looked away, accepting the glass of champagne from your boyfriend. His arm went to your waist and made you wince almost unnoticeably as you feared his hand might travel even lower. The last thing you wanted in that moment was for anyone to touch you but you had no choice. You stood by Kang's side, thinking of ways to convince him that your relationship was doomed, but his words kept surfacing in your memory. You are never leaving me. Ever.

You excused yourself to visit the ladies' room - the only place you could go without Kang's gaze torturing you. You walked across the venue, placing your empty champagne glass on one of the empty trays on the way. As you turned the corner to the ladies' room, you nearly bumped into someone. You stumbled back but a pair of hands secured you. You gasped as one of those hands wrapped around your sore elbow, quickly pulling away as your own hand went to the injured joint. Everything happened in the passing of a second. When you finally managed to look up you saw none other than Park Jimin in front of you.

Your wide gaze locked with his formidable frown but all words were knocked out of you.

"Excuse me," you managed at last and tried to make your way past Mr Park but his fingers caught your wrist gently. Your eyes met yet again, your own gaze blurred with tears. You barely knew Park and yet you felt as if you had been friends for years. It was as if you could not hide anything from him, nor wanted to for that matter.

"Just say the word Y/N and I will make it all go away," Jimin said to you and you alone as other people passed by.

"What?" you stuttered, staring up into his dark eyes.

"Kang," said Jimin. Your lips parted when you saw that he knew - but how could he have found out?

Your chin quivered at the realization that you were no longer alone, that you were not the only one who knew what Kang was really like. You could not hold back the tears any longer.

"Please, just ..." you began but your voice cracked. It was enough though. Park's fingers locked with yours as he led you through the side entrance down to the parking lot. You sat into his car and he drove away, leaving the benefit and your boyfriend miles behind you.

Taehyung

You managed to escape from your boyfriend's view under the excuse of using the ladies' room, but you desperately needed to get some air. His constant touch on your hand or your waist disgusted you. You could not bear it any longer.

You slipped through the back door that opened into the parking lot for staff and caterers. You leaned against the cool stone wall by the door and closed your eyes. The cold air of the night filled your lungs and cleared your head but also triggered a wave of hot tears to force into your eyes now that you were finally alone. You blinked slowly, pushing them back for the most part. You dabbed what left of them with the knuckle of your index, hoping you had not damaged your make up and made it known that you had been crying.

The back door opened again, a dark figure emerging outside. A cigarette hung from the man's lips as he lit it up and savored a long-awaited drag of smoke. You recognized him - the back of his head, his wide shoulders but what made you sure it was him was the hand he hid in the pocket of his trousers. Kim Taehyung turned around. He could feel someone's gaze burn into his back. He took the cigarette from his mouth when he saw you, his lips parting and his eyes unmoving.

You offered him a small smile but did not trust your voice to hold up. You did not know who Kim was for a long time yet you always managed to speak to one another at these sort of events - that is, until your boyfriend found out. He told you in a rage that you have been flirting with his greatest rival, although Kang's words had only half the truth. You never flirted with Kim; you would never do that you your boyfriend - whoever he was or how bad the relationship might have gotten. But ever since Kang's outburst you did not even dare look in Kim Taehyung's direction, much less speak to him. You were already threading on thin ice with Kang.

You hugged your arms and looked away when Kim did not say anything. He must have forgotten ever even speaking to you, you thought. Kim's eyes lingered on you, however, as he took another drag of smoke from his cigarette before flicking it away absently.

"What's that?" asked Kim, breathing out the smoke as he gestured his hand to your body. Your eyebrows rose as he caught you off guard with his question. You looked down at your sliver satin dress but quickly found what Kim was looking at. You had not even noticed it yourself; you thought it would be at least a day before it showed properly - the bruise around your elbow that Kang gave you before the benefit.

Taehyung stepped closer to you and you would have backed away if you were not already pressed against the wall. Your lips parted as your eyes grew wide and your body tensed. Kim traced his fingers across the knuckles of yours that were hiding most of the bruise. His touch made you move your hand although the warmth of his closeness invited you and scared you at the same time.

"Nothing, I ... I fell," you lied, your voice small.

Standing up close, Taehyung could see the fingerprints stamped around your elbow. His dark frown rose to your eyes. You could not look away even if you wanted to; his gaze grounded you where you stood. Fever rushed to your cheeks when Kim rose his hand to your face. He brushed a stray tear from beneath your eye that you did not even know was there.

You looked away embarrassed. You were never one to feel sorry for yourself or even complain but the last few months have become unbearable. You were just waiting for your boyfriend to snap.

A shaky breath escaped your lungs as tears filled your eyes against your will. Your chin quivered and although you bit on your lip, the tears fell down your cheeks.

"You should come with me," said Kim. You looked up at him, your eyebrows frowning together.

"Where?" you whispered, shaking your head hopelessly.

"Away," said Kim.

Your gaze shifted between Taehyung's dark eyes. He smelled of cigarette smoke and perfume that began to cling on your skin as well.

You licked your dry lips and nodded, your gaze lowering to Kim's shirt.

Taehyung took your hand, his long fingers gently intertwining with yours as he led you to his car.

Jungkook

You stepped out of your boyfriend's car as the pair of you arrived at the benefit, fixing your off-the-sleeve black dress that hugged your figure. The valet closed the door behind you as your boyfriend already made his way up the elegant staircase without you. You looked up, the stairs seeming like Mount Everest to you. You gathered the skirt of your long evening dress and made your way after him.

"What took you so long?" said Kang, waiting for you by the door because he knew his benefactors liked talking to him more when you were on his arm.

Kang took your hand and led you through the venue, saying hello to everyone who had a moment's time. You offered them a smile and masked how you truly felt inside. You wanted to scream for help but you knew that even if you would beg everyone on their knees, no one would dare say a word to Kang.

Whilst your boyfriend talked to his colleagues, your thoughts and your gaze drifted across the venue. You did not know what you were looking for until you found it - a pair of dark eyes that belonged to Jeon Jungkook. He wore a tuxedo befitting to the occasion, a glass of whiskey in his hand. You had spoken here and there at these sort of events until your boyfriend noticed. You had not known it beforehand but Kang was sure to inform you you were talking to his biggest rival.

You tore your eyes away from Mr Jeon quickly, looking up at your boyfriend to see if his attention was on your gaze. He must have just made a joke for everyone in the circle began to laugh but you. Your boyfriend squeezed at your hips in front of everyone, everyone seeming to enjoy his actions as most of them were older men. You looked down at your champagne, feeling the redness in your cheeks. You could not understand why but your gaze instinctively searched for Jeon's in that moment yet he was nowhere to be seen.

Your stomach was still twisted into knots even as Kang joined his buddies for a cigar out on the back terrace.

A shaky breath escaped your lungs as you struggled to keep the tears that threatened into your eyes at bay. You sat down your glass of untouched champagne on one of the counters, needing to get some air. You walked down the front staircase, glancing over your shoulder for Kang but he was still laughing with his colleagues out on the back terrace.

You reached the bottom of the staircase, feeling as if you had just ran a marathon. Your breathing became heavy and your stomach turned as if a swarm of wasps had settled inside of it. You placed a hand over your chest, trying to calm yourself when a presence to your right suddenly made you stop breathing altogether.

A small gasp escaped your lips, your eyes wide as you expected to find your boyfriend beside you. It was not him however, but Jeon Jungkook. He was holding a cigarette between his fingers, a breath of smoke leaving his lips as his unmoving eyes locked on yours. His brows slowly fell into a heavy frown.

"What's wrong?" asked Jeon although he already had his answer. He wanted to hear it from you though.

If this were the first time you had spoken to him, the tone of his dark voice would have frightened you. But in that moment, it felt as if you were speaking to an old friend you had known but not seen in years.

You looked away as you felt the tears gather in your eyes then down at your elbow nestled in your crossed arms. A bruise was beginning to form around it in the shape of Kang's fingerprints.

"Can you help me?" you whispered as you found Jungkook's eyes one more time. He exhaled the cigarette smoke, studying you with his sharp unblinking gaze that seemed to hold warmth only when he was looking at you.

"Come," said Jungkook, flicking his cigarette away and led the way to his car. His hand gently brushed against your middle back to guide you but you took a step back instinctively, your wide eyes finding his. Jeon's lips parted slightly at the sight of your reaction. He did not say anything but only opened the door open for you, not attempting to touch you again however platonically intended.

You glanced over your shoulder one last time at the venue, somehow expecting one of Kang's men to be on your trail but they must all have been too busy smoking and drinking.

You got inside Jeon's car.

[idkyetxoxo]

Aegon Targaryen - Conquered

Summary - In a court steeped in intrigue, Aegon becomes obsessed with a naive lady-in-waiting. Unaware of his manipulative intentions, she is drawn to his allure, sparking a dangerous dance of desire and power that challenges her innocence and forces her to confront her true desires.

Pairing - Aegon Targaryen x reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2532

Masterlist for Aegon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

Aegon had a knack for seducing women—an accidental talent that had turned into a twisted hobby over time. 

He never set out to corrupt innocent hearts, nor did he particularly revel in the reputation it brought him. But there was no denying the thrill he found in it. 

The chase, the unravelling of their innocence, became an irresistible game he played, even if he wasn't entirely proud of it.

Now, his latest obsession had a name, and it belonged to no one other than me—the sweet, unsuspecting lady-in-waiting to his mother. I was pure, wide-eyed, and entirely oblivious to the games men like Aegon played. 

And that only made him want me more.

The first time Aegon saw me, I was pouring wine for the queen, my hands delicate and steady as I bent low in a curtsy. 

I caught his eye for only a fleeting moment, a smile softening my features before I turned away. 

That smile should have been his first warning. It was sweet, innocent—untainted by the world he lived in.

From that moment, something inside him stirred.

At first, it was the usual game. He approached casually, confident in the methods that had never failed him before. He would win me over in no time. It was, after all, what he did best. 

But what began as a simple conquest quickly became more than that—because no matter what he did, I remained blissfully unaware of his intentions.

It started innocently enough.

The subtle touches, the charming smiles—everything Aegon knew so well. But where other women melted beneath his gaze, where they blushed and fluttered their lashes, I simply smiled, nodded, and carried on. 

I was always polite, always kind, and never once caught on to the heated looks he gave me.

The next time he cornered me, it was in the royal gardens. The soft perfume of roses filled the air, and the golden sunlight filtered through the trees. 

I was kneeling in the grass, gathering petals in my hands when his shadow fell across me.

"My lady," his voice was smooth as silk, dripping with an unspoken invitation.

I looked up at him, sunlight catching in my eyes as I shielded my face. "My prince," I greeted him with a warm, welcoming smile, utterly unaware of the danger that lurked beneath his charm.

Aegon crouched down next to me, reaching out to brush his fingers along the edge of a rose petal I held in my palm. His fingers grazed mine, lingering just long enough for the gesture to feel intimate. 

"Roses suit you," he said softly, his voice low and intimate.

I blinked up at him, my brow furrowed slightly as I glanced at the flower. "Do they?" I asked, genuinely curious. "I always thought I was more like a daisy—simple but cheerful."

Aegon chuckled, a dark, rich sound that would've sent a shiver down anyone's spine—anyone but me. "A daisy? No, you're far too unique for that. You're more like a rare bloom, delicate yet... intoxicating."

I blushed faintly, but not for the reasons he hoped. 

"That's kind of you to say, my prince," I replied, still oblivious to the intent behind his words. "But I'm just a simple lady-in-waiting."

His jaw clenched, though he managed to maintain his charming smile. He wasn't used to being brushed off so easily, but something about my innocence—about the way I didn't even see his advances—made him want me more. 

The chase was suddenly more thrilling, the game more exciting. And he was willing to play for as long as it took.

Days passed, and Aegon's efforts grew more calculated, more deliberate. 

He began to watch me, observing the little things—how I laughed with the other ladies-in-waiting, the way my lips quirked up when I was lost in thought, the way I absentmindedly tucked a strand of hair behind my ear while reading.

His fascination deepened, but his tactics remained subtle. He didn't want to scare me away, not yet. He had to ease me into his world, seduce me slowly.

One evening, I was alone in the library, curled up in a chair with a book in my hands. The fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow over the room. 

It was peaceful, quiet—the perfect sanctuary away from the politics and pressures of the court.

Aegon slipped into the room, his footsteps silent as he approached. I didn't notice him at first, too absorbed in the story to realize I wasn't alone.

"Good book?" His voice startled me, and I looked up to find him leaning casually against the doorframe, his eyes glittering with amusement.

"Oh!" I gasped softly, sitting up straighter. "Yes, it is. I didn't hear you come in, my prince."

He smirked, moving closer, his movements slow and deliberate as he crossed the room to sit beside me. "May I?" he asked, gesturing to the space next to me.

"Of course," I said, shifting slightly to make room.

He sat down, so close that his leg brushed against mine, though I didn't pull away. I was still so innocent, so trusting. 

"What are you reading?" he asked, leaning in just enough to catch the scent of my hair—something soft and sweet, like lavender.

"It's a romance," I said, showing him the cover. "A bit silly, I suppose."

His lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "Romance? I wouldn't have pegged you for the type."

I shrugged lightly, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "It's just for fun. I don't take it too seriously."

Aegon's eyes darkened, and he leaned in a little closer, his voice a low murmur. "You should take it seriously. There's much to be said about love... and desire."

I blinked up at him, confused by the sudden shift in tone. "Is there?"

His hand moved before I realized what he was doing, his fingers brushing the back of my hand. "Of course," he said, his gaze never leaving mine. "A love story can teach us... many things."

I didn't pull away, but my heart beat a little faster as I looked down at where our hands touched. 

Something shifted in the air between us, something I didn't quite understand yet. 

But Aegon saw it. He saw the crack in my armour, the moment of hesitation, and he knew he was beginning to break through.

Over the next few weeks, Aegon's charm slowly started to work its way under my skin. 

He was careful, calculated, and impossibly patient. His words were always kind, his touches gentle—just enough to make me think about them later. 

I found myself drawn to him in ways I couldn't explain, confused by the flutter in my chest whenever he was near.

I didn't understand what was happening. I had never been the object of someone's affection like this, never experienced the way a man's attention could make me feel both excited and nervous all at once.

One evening, Aegon found me on the balcony, staring out over the city. The air was cool, the stars twinkling brightly above us.

"My lady," he said softly, coming to stand beside me. "You look troubled."

I sighed, glancing at him with a shy smile. "Not troubled, just... thinking."

"About what?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, a quiet invitation to share my thoughts.

I hesitated for a moment, then answered, "I suppose... I've been thinking about you."

Aegon's heart skipped a beat. Finally. "And what have you been thinking?"

I looked down, unsure how to put it into words. "I don't know. I feel... different around you."

His hand reached for mine, fingers intertwining with mine in a way that felt strangely intimate. "That's not a bad thing," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. "It's just the beginning."

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

The nights were growing colder as autumn settled over King's Landing, and the Red Keep seemed quieter than usual. 

I often found myself retreating to the balcony in the evenings, the cool breeze a welcome contrast to the heat of the crowded courtrooms. 

It was my favourite time of day when I could be alone with my thoughts, away from the demands of the court.

Tonight was no different—at least at first.

I leaned against the stone railing, staring out over the darkened city, lost in thought. The sky above was clear, the stars twinkling like diamonds against the velvety night. 

The wind stirred my hair, carrying with it the scent of the sea, and I closed my eyes, letting the moment of peace wash over me.

But I wasn't alone for long.

I heard footsteps approaching from behind, soft but deliberate. A presence I had come to recognize without even looking.

"My lady," Aegon's voice was low and smooth, sending a shiver through me that had nothing to do with the cool air. "You shouldn't be out here alone."

I turned my head, offering him a small smile. "I like the quiet," I replied softly. "It helps me think."

He stepped closer, his figure casting a shadow over mine as he leaned against the railing beside me. 

His closeness was something I was slowly becoming accustomed to, though it still left me feeling unsettled in a way I couldn't quite understand. 

"And what are you thinking about tonight?" he asked, his voice gentle but probing.

I hesitated, unsure of how to answer. The truth was, I had been thinking about him—about the way his presence had begun to stir feelings inside me that I had never experienced before. 

"I suppose... I'm thinking about things I don't fully understand," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

Aegon's eyes darkened with interest, his lips curving into that dangerously charming smile he often wore. 

"Tell me," he coaxed, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from my face, his touch lingering far longer than necessary. "Maybe I can help you understand."

I felt my cheeks warm under his gaze, my heart fluttering wildly in my chest. 

There was something in the way he looked at me, something that made me feel both nervous and drawn to him all at once. 

"I..." My voice faltered, unsure of how to voice the confusing mix of emotions swirling inside me.

Aegon took a step closer, his hand now resting lightly on my arm, his thumb stroking the delicate skin there. 

"You're thinking about us, aren't you?" he whispered, his voice soft and intimate, as if we were sharing a secret. "About what's happening between us."

I swallowed hard, my breath catching in my throat. 

"I... I don't know," I stammered, feeling my resolve waver as his hand slid down to take mine, his fingers intertwining with mine in a way that felt more intimate than it should have.

"You do," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to reverberate through the quiet night air. "I can see it in your eyes, sweetling. You're feeling it too."

The truth in his words hit me like a wave, and for the first time, I couldn't deny it. 

I had been thinking about him, about the way he made me feel—about the way I had begun to crave his attention, his touch, even though I knew it wasn't proper. 

We weren't married. We weren't even betrothed. 

Yet, every time he was near, I felt like something inside me was awakening, something that terrified and thrilled me in equal measure.

"I don't understand," I whispered, my voice trembling with the weight of my confusion. "We... we're not..."

"Married?" he finished for me, his lips twitching into a knowing smile. "Is that what worries you, sweet girl?"

I nodded, my gaze dropping to the ground as shame began to creep in. 

I had always been told that such feelings were meant to be reserved for marriage, that anything else was improper—wrong.

But Aegon lifted my chin gently with his fingers, forcing me to meet his gaze. 

"There's nothing wrong with what you're feeling," he said softly, his voice rich with reassurance. 

"Desire is natural. You don't need a ring on your finger to feel it, to explore it." His thumb brushed my cheek, the tenderness of the gesture sending a shiver down my spine. "I would never hurt you."

I swallowed, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks, my heart racing at the intensity of his gaze. 

"But what if... what if it's wrong?" I asked, my voice barely audible, the doubt still lingering in the back of my mind.

Aegon shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. "It's not wrong," he whispered, stepping closer, his body nearly pressing against mine now. 

"It's only wrong if you don't want it. But if you do... there's nothing to be afraid of."

He was so close now, his breath warm against my skin. The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of us standing there on the balcony, the night wrapping around us like a cloak. 

I could feel the pull between us, the way my body seemed to respond to his without my permission.

And in that moment, something inside me shifted. I stopped fighting it.

"I don't know what I want," I admitted, my voice trembling with uncertainty. "But I think... I think I want you."

Aegon's smile was slow and almost predatory, but there was something else there too—something soft, something almost tender. 

"Then let me show you," he murmured, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of my neck, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin there. "Let me show you it's all right."

And before I could second-guess myself, before the doubt could creep back in, he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative as if he was giving me a moment to pull away if I wanted to. 

But I didn't. I couldn't. My body seemed to move of its own accord, my lips parting beneath his as I leaned into the kiss, my hand reaching up to grip the front of his tunic, pulling him closer.

Aegon's other arm wrapped around my waist, drawing me flush against him as the kiss deepened. His lips were warm and insistent, coaxing a response from me that I didn't know I was capable of giving. 

A soft sigh escaped me as I let myself fall into the moment, into him.

He pulled back just enough to speak, his lips brushing against mine as he whispered, "See? There's nothing to fear."

I nodded, breathless, my heart racing as I clung to him, my mind a whirlwind of emotions. "But... we shouldn't," I whispered, though even as I said the words, I didn't mean them.

Aegon's hand slid up to cup my face, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip as he looked into my eyes. 

"Who says?" he murmured, his voice low and persuasive. "The world is full of rules but not all of them matter. What matters is what we want... what you want."

And in that moment, I realized he was right. I wanted him—more than I had ever wanted anything. The feelings he stirred in me were too strong to ignore, too powerful to deny.

So I let go of the fear, let go of the doubt.

I gave in to the pull between us.

With a soft sigh, I leaned in again, capturing his lips in another kiss, this one more certain, more deliberate. 

And as his arms tightened around me, I knew there was no turning back.

A/n - It's giving Cristina Yang (my queen x) laughing in Mark Sloan's face when he said he had been flirting with her all day!

[nahoney22]

Oooo, I'm excited for your celebration!!! Congratulations!

Clone: Commander Wolffe

List: NSFW 🔞

Prompts: D17 with S20

Proof of age: I saw Jedi in the theater when it released in 1983. The Rancor will always be my fave creature in the SW universe.

Congrats again! Can't wait to see what you come up with!!

@dreamie411

Make Up Your Mind*** 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Commander Wolffe X Female!Reader

word count: 3k

Prompts:

• “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’re going to forget that other guys name.”

• “Stars, you're so much better than the last person I was with."

When Wolffe finally had enough of letting you slip into hands that weren’t his own, he makes sure to remind you who you really belong to.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ only, explicit sexual content and language, mutual pining, minor alcohol consumption, flirting, reader is implied to have done hook-ups before, rough kissing, nudity, fingering, vaginal sex, dom!Wolffe, creampie, confessions of feelings, friends to lovers, tender aftercare.

Authors Note: Sorry for the wait @dreamie411, hope this is okay. 🩵

As you stand behind the bar at 79’s, wiping down the surface, you hear a gravelly voice that you recognise all too well. One would assume it was any of the Clones, but there was something different about the Commander that you just could tell the difference with.

You glance up, locking eyes with the man who has spent far too much time lingering around this bar, and a smirk tugs at your lips. Commander Wolffe is eyeing you with the same intensity he always does, though there’s something unmistakably different in the way he’s watching you now.

“What did you get up to last night?” he asks, voice low but edged with curiosity—or maybe something more.

You raise an eyebrow, already knowing that he’s fully aware of what you were up to. After all, he’d spent the better part of the night silently fuming as you entertained the advances of a flirtatious patron, someone who might’ve turned into a one-night fling if the mood had struck you. You’ve always been casual about these things—no strings attached, just a bit of fun. But judging by Wolffe’s barely-concealed irritation, it’s clear he wasn’t thrilled watching you entertain someone else.

“Just this… and that,” you answer with a cheeky grin, moving away briefly to serve a trooper from the 212th. When you return, Wolffe is still leaning against the bar, his eyes following your every move. You tilt your head, feigning nonchalance. “Why do you ask?”

He swirls the ice in his empty glass, the tension in his shoulders visible even in the dim strobe lights. “Can’t a man be curious?”

Your gaze sharpens with mischief. “Depends. Not many men are curious about my sex life unless it’s for a reason.”

His jaw clenches ever so slightly, and you relish the way your words get under his skin. There’s a charge in the air between you, a tension that neither of you has been willing to break. “Care for a refill?” you ask, the words slipping out smoothly.

Before he can respond, you reach for his glass, brushing your fingers against his just long enough to feel the warmth of his skin. It’s a fleeting touch, but it sends a ripple through you that’s hard to ignore.

Admitted, you have thought about the idea of being with Wolffe before—how could you not? He’s rugged, disciplined, and there’s an undeniable magnetism in his reserved demeanor. And utterly sexy.

Yet, despite his clear jealousy, he’s never made a move. Maybe it’s the restraint that comes with his rank or the weight of his responsibilities, but it leaves you wondering if it’s just that what holds him back.

You pour him his usual drink, sliding it back across the bar before he can even reach for his credits. As he starts to pay, you place your hand over his, stopping him. “It’s on me, Commander,” you say with a wink.

Wolffe’s voice drops a notch, almost a murmur. “I want to give you something. You deserve it.”

You hum softly, leaning closer across the bar, teasing him with a slow, deliberate gaze that traces from his furrowed brow down to the scar that cuts across his eye, finally resting on his tense, but oh-so-inviting lips. “And what do you think I deserve, hmm?” Your voice is a playful whisper, laced with just enough suggestion to make him falter.

For a brief moment, it’s as if time stops. Wolffe’s attention is locked entirely on your lips, on the way your breath gently fans against his face. The lights of the club dance across your features, casting you in a soft, almost hypnotic glow.

He’s caught, just for a second, torn between giving in to whatever’s been simmering between you two and holding himself back. But as much as he wants to close that distance, something pulls him away.

He takes his drink, your fingers slipping away from his as he steps back, eyes soft with something left unspoken. You watch him walk away, a sigh slipping from your lips.

When 79’s finally closes for the night, the hum of laughter and music fades into silence as you finish tidying up. The bar is empty, save for the clinking of glasses you swiped from tables and the faint buzz of neon lights overhead. You wave goodnight to the other workers as they exit through the back door, their voices echoing faintly down the corridor. With a tired but satisfied sigh, you begin locking up for the night, turning toward the entrance when you feel the unmistakable weight of someone’s gaze.

A knowing smirk pulls at your lips. You don’t need to turn around to recognise who it is. “We’re closed, you know,” you call out, your voice playful.

But when you finally do turn, you find Wolffe leaning against the bar, his back to you, shoulders tense. He doesn’t move at first, the muscles in his back taut under his armor as he collects his thoughts. Something about his posture is different tonight—more guarded, more intense. You step closer, curiosity mingling. “What is it, Commander?” you ask as you lean against the counter beside him.

He straightens up slightly, turning his head just enough for you to catch the edge of his stormy gaze. “I need to talk to you.”

There’s no hint of teasing in his tone, and the seriousness in his eyes causes your flirty retort to falter. You’ve never seen him this conflicted, this on edge and your smirk fades. “What’s going on?” you ask softly, cautious.

For a moment, he just stares at you, a battle clearly raging behind those eyes. And then, with a voice rougher than you’ve ever heard, he speaks. “You drive me mad, you know that?” frustration lacing every word. “Watching you, knowing you’re letting others close when all I can think about is how badly I want you. How I’ve wanted you for longer than I care to admit.”

Your breath catches, pulse quickening at the raw intensity of his confession. Wolffe steps closer, closing the distance between you in one stride, his eyes locking onto yours with a hunger that sends a shiver down your spine. “I’m done holding back,” he says, voice dark and laced with that possessiveness you’ve always suspected simmered beneath. “You want to know what I’ve been thinking about? About having you, in every way. About making sure you never forget it’s me you should belong to.”

The heat in his words draws something deep and electric from within you. “Wolffe…” you whisper, but it’s lost as he crowds you against the bar, his body radiating a warmth that sends your senses into overdrive. The look in his eyes is almost feral, desire mixed with a longing that makes your head spin.

His lips are on yours in an instant, rough and claiming, as though he’s been holding back for too long and can’t bear it any longer. You respond in kind, meeting his intensity, hands grasping at his armor as he presses you into the counter. The kiss is a clash of need and frustration, every pent-up emotion pouring into the way his mouth moves against yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, begging for entry which you allow, your fingers tugging in his textured hair as his tongue dominates your own.

When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard, your lips swollen from the fervour of it. “I’ll give you everything,” he whispers on your lips, voice a low rumble that reverberates through your chest.

There’s no hesitation in you now. You’ve wanted this just as much as he has, and the fact that he’s finally lost control is exhilarating. “Then show me, Commander,” you challenge.

That’s all the encouragement he needs. In a blur, he lifts you onto the bar, hands sliding possessively over your hips as he steps between your legs. The kiss that follows is deeper, more desperate, fueled by weeks—maybe months—of tension. His hands grip your waist with enough strength to leave marks, as if he’s afraid you might slip away if he lets go.

Wolffe’s lips leave a trail down your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he moans, “You’re mine tonight. No one else. Just me.”

Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, drawing him closer and with a swift, practiced motion, he begins unbuckling his armour, peeling it off piece by piece while his gaze stays fixed on yours, dark with intent. There’s no room for hesitation, only pure, unfiltered desire.

You barely have time to catch your breath before his hands are on you again, yanking your workshirt over your head, fingers deftly working at your waistband before he slides your pants down and panties. The tension is almost unbearable as his calloused hands slide up your thighs, parting them with authority. His lips land on yours again, hungrier than before, biting gently on your lip as he frees himself from the confines of his uniform. When he finally pulls away, both of you are breathless, the air thick with want.

“Been thinking about this for a long time,” he mutters, voice low as his fingers slowly dip between your folds after getting your consent, finding you already slick with need. “You’re dripping for me already. You really want this, don’t you?”

You can’t help but moan softly as his fingers tease you, brushing over your clit before plunging inside. “I’ve wanted this as much as you have,” you manage to gasp, leaning back on your hands for support as his fingers begin to pump into you with a steady, ruthless rhythm.

“Good,” he groans, leaning in close, his breath hot against your ear. “Because you’re about to get exactly what you’ve been craving.” His thumb presses against your clit in tight circles as his fingers curl just right, hitting that spot that makes you shudder and arch against him.

You bite your lip, stifling the cry that threatens to spill out as your hips rock into his touch. The intensity of his gaze, the way he watches your every reaction—it’s overwhelming. “How’s that feel?” he taunts, voice thick with a mix of pride and lust. “Am I as good as you imagined?”

A wicked grin spreads across your face as you look down at him, voice dripping with teasing satisfaction. “Stars, you’re so much better than the last person I was with.”

That earns a deep, possessive moan from him, and his pace quickens, fingers plunging deeper, harder. “You think I’m going to let you go to anyone else after this? Not a chance,” he hisses, clearly spurred on by your words. “I’m going to make sure I’m the only one you think about from now on.” His gaze is locked on your cunt as his fingers curl inside you

Your response is lost in a choked gasp as he withdraws his fingers suddenly, leaving you momentarily empty. You whine at him for stopping but your words are caught in your mouth as you watch him pull his cock free, only for him to then line himself up against you. At first he teases your sentence pearl with his aching tip, feeling you shudder against him. Then, with one fluid thrust, he buries himself inside you, filling you completely.

The stretch is intense, and you can’t help the cry that escapes your lips. He feels perfect—thick and unyielding, just what you’ve been aching for. He groans, hips stuttering as he buries his face into your neck. Then he pulls back and cups your jaw with his hand, making sure every word he’s about to say sinks in; “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll forget that other guy’s name.”

The need between you both is primal, each thrust deep and purposeful as he claims you in the way he’s been fantasising about for far too long. His hands grip your hips with bruising force as he drives into you, the wet sound of your bodies moving together mingling with the breathless moans that spill from your lips.

“Tell me how good it is,” he commands, voice rough as his pace picks up, your legs tightening around him. “Tell me how much you like the way I fuck you.”

You don’t hold back, your voice a breathy moan. “It’s so good, Wolffe. So much better than anyone else. You’re the only one who can give it to me like this.”

That spurs him on, his movements becoming almost punishing as he growls your name, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “You’re mine tonight,” he breathes against your neck, the words possessive yet laced with something deeper. “No one else is ever going to touch you like this again.”

Your body tightens around him, every ridge of his cock brushing against your walls. Pleasure builds within you until it’s impossible to hold back any longer. “Fuck,” he groans, head tipping back briefly before his eyes lock onto yours again. “You feel incredible.”

When your release finally crashes over you, it’s intense, your vision going white as your muscles clench around him, drawing a guttural moan from his throat. He doesn’t let up, riding you through your orgasm, praising you, until he’s right there with you, thrusts growing erratic until he spills into you with a deep groan, his forehead resting against yours as he tries to catch his breath.

For a moment, the only sounds are the heavy breathing and the faint hum of the bar’s lights. Wolffe’s hands remain firm on your hips, almost as if he’s still afraid to let go. When he finally pulls back, there’s a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes.

Before you can ask, Wolffe’s hands gently cup your face, his thumbs brushing tenderly along your cheeks. There’s a softness in his gaze now, something you’ve never seen before. His fierce determination melts away, replaced by something far more vulnerable.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, voice thick with emotion. His thumbs continue to trace delicate patterns on your skin as if memorising every contour of your face. “I’ve watched you for so long; how you smile, how you laugh. How you take care of people, even when you think no one notices. You’re not just beautiful—you’re kind, too. And it drives me crazy because you deserve more than just a quick fling. You deserve someone who sees you for all that you are.”

His words hit you harder than any of the passion you’ve shared so far. Your heart stutters at the sincerity in his voice, the way his eyes soften as he holds your gaze. For a moment, the world outside fades, leaving only the two of you in this small, quiet moment. You’ve seen Wolffe as a soldier, a leader, but now, you see him as a man—a man who’s been holding back something real, something deep.

“Wolffe,” you breathe out, touched by his unexpected confession. “I—”

He doesn’t let you finish, leaning in to kiss you with a gentleness that contrasts the rough desire you shared moments before. The kiss is slow, unhurried, a silent acknowledgment of what’s blooming between you. His lips move against yours with reverence, taking his time as if savoring each moment.

When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, breath mingling with yours in the stillness. “You’re not just someone I want in passing,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want you for more than just tonight.”

Your chest tightens with warmth, a rare vulnerability breaking through your usual confidence. You reach up, running your fingers through his hair, grounding him in this moment. “I’ve wanted you too, more than you know. Not just for what we have now, but for what we could be.”

He studies your face for a moment, as if committing your every feature to memory, then smiles—a small, genuine curve of his lips. “I’m done hiding how I feel,” he says quietly. “You’re mine, but I’ll also be yours, in every way that matters.”

With that, he kisses you again, this time with a perfect balance of passion and tenderness, his need still evident but tempered by something deeper, more meaningful.

It’s not long until a second round of passion ensues, this time him stripping himself completely bare as he lifts you and moves you towards one of the booths for a more comfier setting. He lays you down, crawling over the top of you as his erection firms and pushes into you once again.

“Tell me how it feels,” he moans softly in your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You can’t help but smile, the words slipping out between moans. “Beautiful… perfect. Nobody has ever made me feel this way.” You whimper, the sound of his cock sliding in and out of your already dampened and filled pussy stirring your crazy.

That longing glint returns to his eyes, but this time, it’s mixed with the affection he just bared to you. “Good,” he murmurs, his pace picking up slightly, his hands never leaving your skin. “Because I’m going to make damn sure you never want anyone else.”

The rhythm between you builds again, the intensity returning as his movements grow more insistent, more determined to claim you in every way possible. But there’s a new layer to it now.

His touch was something deeper, more profound, and it’s shown in the way his lips brush against your skin, the way his hands hold you like you’re something precious. Like a porcelain doll.

As you both approach that edge again, the tension coils tight, your bodies perfectly in sync. The pleasure mounts higher and higher until it crests, a shared release that leaves you both trembling and breathless. You collapse into him, clinging to his shoulders as he holds you steady, his own breath coming out in ragged pants. “Mesh’la,” he breathes, kissing your forehead gently.

For a while, neither of you move, caught in the afterglow. But then, Wolffe gently lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I want you,” he says again, “No games, no hiding. I want us—for real, whatever it takes.”

You smile, reaching up to cup his face, thumb brushing over the scar near his eye. “Then we’ll make it real. But… What about your status? You’ll be reprimanded.”

“Status be damned,” he growls at the thought of the GAR taking you away from him.

You’ve crossed a line, and there’s no going back. But for once, neither of you care.

🌊 Masterlist is Pinned 🌊

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[oneforthemunny]

🧸🥣🌀

modern!eddie, angst, proposal/wedding. i feel like i might get attacked for this one sorry.

"Hey," Eddie's voice came from behind you, still in his grey suit but the jacket and the tie had been shed, the boutonniere upside down and smushed from the reception.

"Lost you in there." Eddie grinned, eyes a little red rimmed from the beer he'd been downing at the open bar.

You didn't respond, fingers drumming against your champagne flute, looking out at the venue strung in lights. "You alright?" Eddie's brows pinched, moving beside you.

"Yeah," Your voice was tighter than you liked, swallowing a lump that seemed to only grow, choking you more and more. "Just... needed some air."

"Yeah, it is a little hot in there. The smoke machine is a killer. Feels like I'm at prom again." Eddie snorted lightly. "My hair's gonna look like Hagrid's by the end of the night."

Normally you would've smiled, grinned with narrowed eyes and retorted with something that teetered on playful and snarky. Instead, your gaze was held, distant as you looked over the rolling hills.

"Hey, okay," Eddie leaned against the railing, looking up at you. "What's going on?"

"Nothing-"

"-Nah, don't give me that." Eddie shook his head. "What's going on? You were fine earlier, and then you left."

Your nose burned, fiery with emotion that threatened to bubble out, to spill over. "Baby," Eddie cooed, his hand brushing over yours. "What's wrong?"

You hesitated, contemplating shaking him off and going back inside, back to the table where he couldn't confront you. Back to the table that was the same reason you had left.

"I just... You know, everyone kept asking if we were next." You muttered, refusing to look at him, eyes trained on your glass. "When we'd finally get married."

Eddie paused, lips twitching the way they did when he was uncomfortable. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," You looked at him.

"Did you tell them we didn't want to get married?" Eddie pressed lightly, his own fingers beginning to drum on the concrete of the balcony.

"No," You bit, a raging burst of fury shooting through your system. "I told them you didn't want to get married."

"Baby," Eddie's face fell, a sigh accompanying his words. "Can we- Can we not do this here? Please?"

We've already talked about this.

You know how I feel.

It's just a piece of paper. We're already basically married. Why does it matter?

I don't want to get married. Never wanted it, and I'm not changing my mind. Doesn't mean I don't love you.

All the words he didn't say now but still lingered from times before. The rejection, the bitter sting of your dreams shattered. You thought someone as affectionate as Eddie was would jump at the first mention of marriage.

Here, watching Jeff and his bride dance, laugh and cry at the alter, pouring out promises and oaths to the other, it was hard not to feel bitter. The widened glances that came your way with the dreaded question, the twitching of lips when you'd reply. Every Facebook post you'd see of another classmate from high school getting married, engaged, honeymooning. It made you rage with jealous frustration.

"C'mon, let's just go back in and have fun. Please? I don't want to fight about this right now." Eddie pleaded, eyes rounding sweetly enough that it made your heart pang with affection, maybe with aching hurt.

You didn't respond, jaw clenched in what you hoped was a neutral expression- one that would pass for the resting bitch face you were known for, and not a tear filled one.

[zoropookie]

SWEET MELODY

☆ chapter ten — obliterate him. 🎂

It's not often they were in such close proximity to each other.

The car hummed softly while the two of them, Kuni and Xiao, sat inside while silence lingered. It was thick and awkward, punctuating only by the occasional clearing of the throat or a rustle of clothing as one of them shifted uncomfortably.

There were hardly any words spoken between them as it is, it was harder to think that either of them knew exactly what the other was thinking. Regardless, Xiao kept his eyes on the road, fingers tapping lightly on the wheel. The silence was comfortable, as they both didn't claim the energy they gave off, but it would have been unbearable for the others.

Kuni stared out the window, watching all scenery pass by in a slow pace. The bakery only a few miles away from them but it felt all the more interminable, stretched out by prolonged quietude. It was better than Lumine hounding him.

Finally, the silence was broken by a stiff and gravelly sigh from the bassist. "You're not this irritating on a regular day."

"Perceptive finally?" Kuni asked, pressed against his seat in defeat. "That's what happens when you deal with the usual existential dread. You know how it is."

"Still not grounds to act out. Makes it uncomfortable for everyone." Xiao lips twitched. "There's always a way to regulate your emotions better. Unless you have a reason for why you're being difficult."

His shoulders laxed, eyebrows furrowing at the flood of memories he was forced to revisit. "Like I ever gave a fuck how uncomfortable people are around me." He scoffed to himself. "It's not my job to coddle the people around me just to show that I have empathy. What do I have to prove to anyone?"

And there it was; half of a reason to his outlandish bursts of rage. He couldn't really tell whether he was genuine with how he feels or not, but the longer he listened to his reason, the more he realized how contradictory he was in his attitude. Like everything revolved around him, and the minute it doesn't, he'll come up with reasons why everybody else is the problem except for him on why it's annoying.

The other took short glances at him, voice low and steady. "You don't have to be kind," He paused. "You have to be content. It makes everyone around you as miserable as you are when you're not content, and it pushes them away. I'm guessing you see the similarities, too. Otherwise, you wouldn't have been so defensive."

Kuni took it in with a heavy heart. One that boiled with confusion and mirth, but also...in a way, he understood that the other was right. All his thoughts were just violent reactions to impulsively spew, to exude when he was filled with callousness to the point where it explodes and implodes at the same time. He wasn't the flower people wanted him to be, which stung, but it was irreparable to him.

He hummed in response with resignation, mulling over Xiao's words over and over again. But as always, in an attempt to get the last word in, he clenched at his jaw. "Don't put yourself in my shoes, you're not going to understand how I operate any time soon."

Xiao parked the car and turned to him after taking the laminated letter, still in perfect condition as he looped the mask over his ear. "If I put myself in your shoes, I wouldn't live at all." He said, nothing to give him on his expression that would insult him further. "Let's go."

The other scowled, opening the car door with a bit more force than necessary. The cool air was a stark difference from the blazing heat they were withstanding inside of the company and their negligence with the air conditioning. He stepped out, stuffing his hand into his pocket to put his mask on.

The shop was always charming looking, with the mouthwatering scent of freshly baked desserts every hour that sell out quick. The bell above the door jingled softly as they entered the store, and Kuni was able to fully absorb what your store even looked like at all. It was perfect, you were putting a lot of work into this building for years.

You had everything in mind, from the way you mapped out and drew every piece you wanted to decorate the bakery, to the flooring and the placement. It looked exactly like the layout you drew in school. Except with all of the sweet treats, and the sickly pastry scent to him, it was supposed to be your very own veterinarian office.

He glanced around bitterly, taking in the rows of delicacies displayed behind the glass. The golden crusts and colorful frostings momentarily stung at the wound that was already there.

Something wicked snapped inside of him seeing all of your employees smile as you spoke to them, hiding behind your mask of imminent anxiousness. He had to stifle it yet again, a surge of emotions overwhelming his head. His thoughts twisted and turned in fight, everything you once dreamed of became into a shitshow. The bitter taste of regret lingered in his mouth, which made him angrier.

With the moderately-sized line in question, Xiao motioned towards you to Kuni, him slowly following after. He stopped you in time to get you to turn around. "This is yours."

You slowly looked at the two of them, before looking down at the letter. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you gasped inwardly, feeling tears well up. "Is that you, Xiao? Where did you find this?"

"You dropped it."

You scrambled to take it out of his hands, your nose leaking from how hard you bursted into tears. "Thank you...thank you...I'm sorry you had to come all this way, it must have slipped my mind to ask Miss Ei..."

Kuni couldn't help but laugh patronizingly. "Oh yeah? It slipped your mind? You're a joke."

You froze, recognizing that voice from anywhere. Your tension grew heavy all of a sudden, heart dropping a second time like clockwork. Xiao shot him a warning look, brows knitting together in frustration. "Did I say something wrong?"

"This is all we came here for," Xiao responded sharply, eyes looking to obliterate him if he continued his act. "Unless you have something else to say."

"I have a lot to say, albeit, nothing nice for klutzy bitches who we have to pick up after." His jaw set in defiance as he sucked at his teeth. "I'm going to the bathroom."

Defeated as he left, Xiao's eyes looked back at you. "This will be the first and last time I'll show up here," He continued. "It causes a lot more trouble than it's worth."

You nodded, standing there as you reread the found letter again. Over and over again until you felt better. You took a deep breath you felt like you haven't gotten to in a long time, trying to steady yourself. "I'm sorry for being so much trouble. I really appreciate that you came all this way."

He nodded, his hardened expression softening as he looked at you. There was something he didn't know about, and even though he wasn't too interested in figuring it out, there was something off here. "I'm going now."

"Wait," You weakly stopped him as he was about to leave. "Can I send you guys off with some sweets?" You asked quietly, your voice trembling as you managed a smile. "To thank you. This letter really means a lot to me..."

"No." He waved you off, tone firm. "Tell him I'm waiting."

You watched him leave, another chime of the bell as an indicator. You felt yourself beam again, reading the letter a fifth time as you tried to retrace your brothers voice in the letter. You failed again, hoping one day you'd find it. Feeling somewhat of a bigger confidence than usual, you kept it with you, the lamination on the letter

As you were about to head back to the kitchen, you turned the corner only to be aggressively pulled into the nearest bathroom. Your arm was yanked behind you so hard that you yelped, twinging something in your shoulder.

"What the fuck is all this?" He hissed in a dangerous whisper, grip loosening as he flung your arm back to your body. "If you want to waste your life on this desperate attempt to belong, fine, but don't bring all of us into your shit too."

Your eyes shook, rubbing your shoulder as you kept the letter tucked under your thumb. "I don't really get the vet stuff you mentioned...I'm trying to find out what you meant."

"Another thing that pisses me off, you're such a faker, it's amazing! How long has that been a thing to get my attention?" His voice raised, getting closer to your face as he took the mask off. "Huh? Look me in the fucking eye and tell me you don't remember anything."

"I don't," You replied firmly, your resolve wavering. "I don't know how to prove it to you, it's not something I can recall right now...I'm sorry."

"Aw, you're sorry?" His voice dripped with a baby-ish tone this time. "You've been babied to shit, and now you think that you're untouchable. You're a fucking coward, not even worthy of my time. Running away from your problems and making it my problem... who's the first person my mom shits on whenever you make a choices that fucks over the both of us? Look at me."

Your eyes welled up. "I don't know what you're talking about..." You forced yourself to keep eye contact with him. "I just wanted to do something other than mope! I didn't want to stay at home all day..! I'm sorry." You dry heaved.

He let out a bitter laugh, stepping back once he ripped the letter out of your hands. "What even is this? You had it laminated and everything..." He read it in amazement. "This is what you been freaking the fuck out over, huh?"

"Please give it back." You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "It's really important..."

"I bet, you fucking hypocrite." His eyes were voice, flashing with anger and something else— something that looked almost like hurt. "You talk a lot about moving forward for someone who runs away from their pain. Who always wants an out to their suffering, who wants to take up space they're not fucking needed in."

You stepped back when he moved closer to you, your back against the wall as you reached your arm out towards the letter, wincing at your own actions. "I didn't mean to intrude on your life again...your mom invited me. I didn't know it was to get us to make up again. I'll stay out, I promise." You continued speaking, rambling on desperately to get him to hand the letter back to you.

He stared at you for a long moment, his face twisted in disgust as he watched you grovel for this mere letter in his hands. It was taking out more from you than you realized at the moment, but you were out of options. As you begged and pleaded in whispers, he threw the letter on the ground and grabbed your face.

His grip was firm on you, nails digging into your cheeks as he made you look directly into his eyes. "You think you're so special." He hissed, voice dripping with the most poisonous venom imaginable. "So important that everyone drops everything in a heartbeat for you. You think you can just waltz back into my home, pretend like nothing happened, and I won't fuck you up for what you did to me? I'm here now, so what's up?"

Your heart pounded in your chest, the intensity of what was happening was causing you to choke on your tears. "I'll leave you alone...I promise."

His eyes narrowed in amusement, finding a sliver of humor and shallow lust in your fear, before leaning forward and locking his lips with yours as a response.

A kiss so fierce and consuming, you trembled against him, hardly even reciprocating but feeling your heart flutter at his gesture. A memory you didn't want to remember resurfaced again, of you singing for his birthday and his bitterness longed with passion in the past.

Now? It was terrifying; it wasn't gentle or kind, but raw and intense. Filled with vexation, something deeper that even he couldn't identify. Your head spun while his hands moved from your cheeks to your hair, fingers tangling in the strands as he gripped at your hair. He took a lock and pushed your head closer.

He tasted the same as he did so long ago. And it hurt you.

As sudden as it began, and while you were relaxing, he pulled away. His eyes dark and stormy as he stared into your eyes, continuously flicking from the letter and back to him. He felt rough and unsteady, and something in him told him that he overstayed his welcome enough. "No," He paused, muttering low and cocky. "It's not the same."

With that he left, the door swinging behind him shut and you immediately scrambling for the letter that was on the floor, feeling your breath be pried away from you again as you lost it. You leaned against the sink, feeling your tears dry on your face as you cried harder.

"Kazuha..." You cried out with red eyes, your voice drawling.

previous ☆ masterlist ☆ next

THERE ARE not many things that can sway your interest ever since the "incident", but in spite of that, you pushed forward. you are now the owner of the biggest bakery chain in your city, consistently seeing couples and catering to them as such. you've been a big host at weddings, events for celebrities, and even a big support for your friends and family. you've even earned yourself a niche following as well by how sweet you are to everybody around you. but, even with your kindness, you don't have a particular spark that keeps you going anymore these days. that is until one of your employees starts suggesting you write love letters to customers who request your services. at first you thought it was a horrible idea that could easily turn into trouble, but that was until you were tasked with writing one to your own (very very famous) ex-boyfriend.

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[dusterbishop]

have you come here to rescue me (all of this can be broken)

summary. || three timelines, you have watched remy lebeau die. you didn't believe you would earn a fourth chance to save him until you find a variant with no memory of his past, lost in a void of existence.

pairing. || gambit x f!reader (past relationship with current enemies-to-lovers)

count. || 2.7k

notes. || posted on ao3 here. warning for character death and violence. thank you for all the kind comments and likes! i'm happy i could share this with such a talented fandom.

part one. || part two.

You and Gambit meet before, eh?

Many times

Mais, pleasure’s mine, chér. Gambit’s never forgotten a beautiful woman

You draw your next card at random, and find yourself flat on your back, the back of your head still slick with the blood that pools beneath you. The hit from behind splintered your skull, but this body merely festers with a fading migraine. It is the closest you could get to avoiding death without skipping from this reality entirely. The pain has to keep you anchored, because you can’t count on Gambit to know what to do to keep you here.

Gambit, for his part, stares down at you. He looks like your Remy, which seems like such a strange thought to have. Of course he looks like Remy LeBeau. That is who he is in every lifetime. And yet it makes perfect sense that you halt upon this revelation for the very same reason.

Every Gambit is Remy LeBeau, and yet this one looks like Remy. He has the same strong jawline, the same furrow of his brow, the same black-rimmed red irises. He towers over you, the line of his shoulders set back and perplexed, at least until he crouches down to be closer to your level. Every movement is fluid, graceful. No sign of pain or hesitation. No snarl of distrust or blank expression of disinterest.

Found ya’, chér.

You would laugh if the back of your skull wasn’t just recently smashed in, new body or not. The daze of death’s lingering touch keeps you still as you stare back up at him. He had promised you would meet again, hadn’t he? In another lifetime, at least, he had. You are not the same body that he had been in love with, and yet some part of you can still smell the smoke in the air and feel the buzzing of kinetic lightning across your skin.

He is not your Remy. Not even if he’s looking at you with that same curious intensity. Gamblers could never refuse the call of the cards, and you have a stacked deck.

“Watch it, Cajun,” you tell him. Your voice is scratchy, grating the back of your throat. That explains the weariness in your joints, then. This version of your body is sick in some way. “I know how to wave a stick.”

A knowing laugh escapes him. “Oui, saw ya’ wit’ it. Don’ threaten Gambit wit’ a good time.”

Right, the flirting. Of all the swamp-dwelling boys you could have ended up entangled with, you just had to choose the one with that damned silver tongue. This version of Gambit is no different than the thousands of others you have witnessed in terms of that, at least. Perhaps thousands was even a conservative estimate. How many times have you crossed lives only to find a stranger wearing the face of the man you love?

God, you’re tired of it all. You don’t think you can handle another Gambit right now.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you sigh. “I’m not staying long.”

“S’il vous plait, you should.” He’s smiling, but you know that look in his eyes. Your gaze falls to the inner folds of his coat. You can barely make out the stitched lining where he keeps his cards, but you know that its there. He always had a habit of stitching the pockets in the same spot. Your Remy liked to command full control of the kitchen table to spread out his coat and ensure straight stitching. The cats liked it, too. You would come home to find them all clustered at the table, Remy idly scratching Oliver’s chin while he assessed his work, the other two boys stretched out languidly with them.

Gambit notices your attention, and his smile goes flat. “Where’ve you been my life, eh?”

“Could ask you the same thing,” you shoot back. The fatigue starts to settle deep in your bones. Maybe this body wasn’t sick when you borrowed it. Maybe this is just the effects of your time-skipping leeching over to another form. Your body feels like its burning a low-grade fever. “I don’t want to argue with you, Gambit.”

“Argue?” He looks almost offended at the mention of underlying tension. “Mon chér, you wound me. Dis is a civil conversation, non?”

“Don’t you get tired of talking?” You know he doesn’t. The two of you have spent so many hours sparring both in the danger room and verbally. He likes to make you take the backfoot in both fighting rings. At least, Remy did. This Gambit seems… off.

He almost seems familiar.

“Not when I’m talkin’ to you,” his smile edges with that coy charm. “Why don’ you tell Gambit about your travels?”

It feels like dunking your head beneath tumultuous ocean waves. Your gaze jolts to his eyes. His biggest tell had always been the way his pupils expand, consuming the ringed red of his irises. In some light, at some times, it almost looked as if he didn’t have irises at all. Just an all-consuming gaze of ink-black.

He looks that way, now, staring down at you. Black-eyed and smiling like a rogue, his elbows perched idly on the curve of his crouched knees, hands freely dangling between you. Unarmed, almost, if not for the weight of cards pressed against the cuff of his sleeves. That brand of stitching is new. Your Remy would have been absolutely delighted to see that sort of innovation as much as he would have groaned about not doing it himself.

“Ace up your sleeve,” you say instead. Your head is rattling with a desperate panic. How does he know that you can travel?

Gambit flicks his wrist, the air rushes, and a splayed set of cards stare back at you. Four of a kind. A handful of aces, in fact. Your Remy would be in absolute stitches over it.

“Some, oui,” he says. He looks just as pleased with himself. He always did like to be the smooth-talker. The air whirs with quiet trepidation, charging, turning metallic in the back of your mouth. One of his brows raises the same moment you half-raise your arm, reflecting the same suit of cards back to him. His fingers reluctantly slide closed on empty air.

“So do I,” you tell him. You hold steady when he goes to take them back from you and nearly yank your arm out of reach when his fingers close over your wrist instead. He’s wearing his gloves, but even the slight warmth of his skin pressed against yours makes your mouth go cotton-dry.

“Houdini,” he remarks.

“Not quite,” you whisper.

“Non,” he agrees. He studies your hand for a long moment. The cards are his, of course. You had shifted time just enough to reach across it and claim your prize. Nothing more than a parlor trick in the light of what you have done lately. What is a suit of cards in the face of endless, staggering realities? If you don’t like the way a restaurant cooks a dish, you can cross time until you find the same dish cooked to mind-numbing perfection. If you miss the city bus because it showed up three minutes early, you can change lifetimes to delay the driver by five minutes, the extra two minutes only for good measure.

If you lose one Remy LeBeau, why not venture out to find him again?

And again?

And again.

You know the answer, now. Maybe part of you always did, yes, but the answer is staring you in the face. You cannot ignore him any longer. You cannot skip timelines and pretend that there will never be a Remy like yours again. He was yours because he was not perfectly brought up as a child and ended up with some nine-to-five office job and a three-bedroom home with a white picket fence. That Remy does not have an interest in a strange paradox such as yourself. Neither does the Remy LeBeau that ends up being a schoolteacher, or a stay at home dad, or a volunteer at an animal shelter.

Your Remy was imperfect, and that was why he was the only version of himself that you could love.

This version of Remy LeBeau is still holding onto you. His grip is firm, but not bruising. He’s holding you fast to keep you with him, not to hurt you. You’re too tired to attempt to escape. Every muscle in your body feels leaden and overworked. That’s the other answer demanding your attention, but you let the revelation slip from its leash and ignore it.

“I know what you are, chér .” His grip doesn’t change, but there’s a dangerous riptide swelling in his tone. “What you do.”

“Wayfarer,” you say. It feels flimsy to say it like this, laying flat on your back, Gambit poised gracefully beside you. Remy had been rather nonplussed with the title when you first told him about it. Non, mon coeur, you are Wildcard. Not even Gambit knows your next move.  

“You travel, d’accord?” With the hand still holding you fast, he rubs the calloused pad of his thumb against the rapid flutter of your pulse. It’s nearly enough to make you flicker out of time itself, consequences be damned. His next words are a wistful purr. “You can leave.”

You aren’t sure why the surprise that lances through you hurts so much. Of course, he isn’t your Remy. You know this. He may smile and banter and touch you as kindly as Remy does — as he did, past tense, it’s all beyond your grasp now — but that does not make you something for him to cherish.

It does, however, make you something to use.

“I am always here,” you start, settling into this waltz slowly. This was the other part of your existence that used to confuse Remy. Some part of you hardly understood it, either. You don’t know how every part of a jet plane or automobile works either, though, so it doesn’t phase you much anymore. You had tried to explain it with the T.V. analogy, like your other versions were playing on different screens even if you aren’t tuned in, but that only served to confuse him more. He did enjoy your choice of explanation in some way, at least, by fully indulging in references from his favorite T.V. shows. The conversation had derailed into you hitting him with a pillow, and then you had both unraveled into a different sort of banter.

Not that Remy ever let you get the last word, though. Tuning the channel, he had said seriously, as you had writhed beneath his touch in a breathless rush. Smart-mouthed, smooth-talking swamp boy.

“Some part of me stays here. A variant,” you continue. Gambit waits, those slivered-red irises trained intently on your expressions. How strange to have him staring at you with such suspicion. You could never lie well to Remy LeBeau no matter the version you stumbled across. You could hold back, yes, but he would always know anyway. You have learned to stop hiding from him. It is inevitable that you will admit your life to him in some way, either by choice or by necessity.

“I am here,” you say. “Like I’m sitting in a coffee shop in Paris, reading the morning newspaper, playing the crossword. I can see the empty grid in my head. I know the clues.”

There’s a familiar furrow in Gambit’s brow. You’re suddenly glad he’s holding your hand before you end up surrendering to the urge to reach out and smooth it away. Not your Remy. A touch from you is not the sort he hungers for.

“Paris, eh?” He presses his thumb to your pulse. You wonder if he feels the leap in your heart beat at the touch. “Wha’s got you wandering da Void, then?”

“I didn’t choose to be here,” you admit. “I got… reset, I guess. My mind went to the next version of my body available.”

“Reset sounds awfully dire, I t’ink.” He gives you a pointed look. “Wha’s got you?”

For one long, awful moment, you almost tell him the terrible truth. You almost tell him that you went looking for a version of him that was familiar enough to soothe the gaping hole in your heart. That you found a Gambit that was witty and kind despite his shitty upbringing, one that liked to make you laugh and could keep up with the practice drills you still put yourself through. A Gambit that wasn’t afraid that you would one day vanish and be replaced by some version of yourself that he didn’t love.

You want to tell him that you found a Gambit that you had wanted to keep safe, and he was shot in the back trying to do the same for you. You tore yourself apart to take down the men that did it to him. You died with him and you still woke up within one breath and the next. You had to wake up and hear his voice, except this is not the Gambit that died because of you, this version does not know what he holds onto so tightly.

You want to tell him that three other versions of Remy LeBeau died just as terribly, and you just keep spinning the roulette wheel, and you just keep living.

“That version of me died,” you say. “Shot in the stomach.”

He’s looking at you as if he has never seen such a phenomenon. You suppose, technically, he hasn’t. He used to be one of the lucky ones that didn’t know you even existed. There goes that winner’s streak.

“Do’ya have t'die to… reset?”

You think about lying again. God, you wish you could. “Not always.”

He raises a brow at that, but you don’t offer to elaborate. Instead, you let the cards in your hand release from this reality with a soft whir of energy. Your head feels stuffed with cotton, or perhaps rocks. Maybe this is your mind finally burying itself alive in rebellion of your time-skipping antics.

“Tell ya what, chér.” His fingers loosen their grip on your wrist only to tangle with your own, intertwining your hands. Your breath catches. It’s the only split-second warning you have before he hauls you up to your feet, one hand entangled with yours, the other supporting the small of your back to keep you balanced. You have to shut your eyes against the vertigo that thunders in your head.

“Don’t die,” he continues. “Paris ain’t all it’s cracked up to be, hein? No reason to go dere.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” you grit out. You think you might throw up. Or pass out. Your free hand grips onto the lapel of Gambit’s coat hard enough for your fingers to grow stiff. His hand on your back is a solid, anchoring weight. It supports you more than you would like. Relying on him could be a dangerous game.

Still, your power is a raw, aching nerve burning through your veins. You couldn’t switch without tearing yourself apart, not as exhausted as you are. Considering that this Gambit hasn’t driven a knife into your back, either literal or figurative, it’s easier not to resist when he makes a soft hum and sweeps you into a bridal carry. You keep your eyes closed, and try to ignore the burn at the back of them. A part of you waits for his sound of pain, the impact of bullets thudding into his back. Another part wonders if he will be vaporized from existence by the TVA, just a second before your hands meet.

The third, quieter part of your mind just thinks: Remy.

Gambit, the fourth ace in your suit, doesn’t do any of those things. He adjusts your weight, testing to see if you will squirm out of his grasp, then he begins to walk. He’s strangely quiet. It’s almost a relief in the wake of your draining, familiar conversation. How many times will you have to reintroduce yourself to a Gambit? What could you possibly offer this fate-curious, battle-wary version of the man you love? It’s the sort of question that makes you reconsider your choice to stay.

Stay with a Gambit with ulterior motives, or move on to another life with no guarantee of who will meet you there? Well. When you put it like that, there’s no other option at all.

And, as if he can read your mind, Gambit begins to explain.

[nev3rfound]

out of sight : m.h

everyone at HQ is looking for you, and all signs lead to Miguel, yet for some reason, he won't explain where it is you're hiding. 913 words.

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop

(requests are open, slowly working through them:))

Keeping his gaze fixated on the monitors in front of him, Miguel sighs at the sound of the door opening and slamming shut.

"Hey bossman," Hobie yells, waving his arm in the air whilst Miguel's back remains turned. "charmin' as always, any way you seen Y/n about?" He continues despite the silence that ensues from the platform. "She said she'd be 'ere today, but not seen her."

"She's not here." Miguel simply answers, Lyla appears in front of him lowering her heart-shaped glasses, only to roll her eyes. Feeling Hobie's presence still lingering below, Miguel forces himself to look over his shoulder. "Something else you need?" He coldly questions, only to see Hobie shake his head and salute before exiting the room, the door slamming once more causing Miguel to shudder.

Lyla tuts to herself, crossing her arms over her chest. "You know, words going to get around, Miguel." Lyla sings, glancing upward before returning to see Miguel's expression remaining stoic. "Hobie isn't going to be the only visitor you know."

"It's none of their business." Miguel states. "It's best they don't know."

Humming in response, Lyla's smile only grows at the hint of concern crossing Miguel's face. "Sure." She shrugs, disappearing from his view whilst he returns to work.

Oblivious to the goings on, Peter strolls into Miguel's office with Mayday in his arms who continues to babble in his embrace. "I know, but I'm sure the big guy knows, Mayday." Peter explains quietly, hoping to see you perched on the platform with Miguel. Yet, you're nowhere to be seen in the room.

"Looks like you've got another visitor." Lyla chimes in.

Miguel groans internally, turning around as the platform slower lowers to reveal the sight of Peter B Parker and Mayday, who is hanging upside down in Peter's arms.

"What do you want?" Miguel doesn't bother to disguise his annoyance, even as Mayday reaches out for him.

Pulling her back, Peter averts his focus from Miguel's scowl. "Oh you know, Mayday was hoping to see Y/n. Overdue a game of hide and seek." Peter chuckles, only to be met with silence in response. "You seen her around?"

"She's not here, Peter." Miguel states, walking back to his platform and returning his attention to work.

Not quite convinced, Peter lifts his head up past the platform, noticing a stream of light to the left of the platform. "Well, worth a try." He calls out, tuning his ears to try and hear something, anything. And then he hears it. "I'll see you around, Miguel!"

Walking out of the office, Peter smiles to himself, only to be interrupted by Hobie and Gwen. "Well, where is she?" Gwen asks with a huff.

Hobie shakes his head with a half smile. "He ain't sayin." Hobie remarks, throwing his arm over Gwen's shoulders. "Come on, Gwen, best we leave 'em to it, yeah."

Back inside Miguel's office, he remains in front of the screens of amber, watching the various worlds until he hears the sound of movement to his left.

Checking the surrounding areas of the room, and the cameras around HQ, Miguel steps away from the screens to the small door on his left. "Hola, mi amor." Miguel whispers, cracking the door ajar to reveal you curled up in a twin bed, an eye mask covering your eyes and mouth ajar, snoring lightly. "Y/n?" He gently rubs your exposed shin, only to be met with a kick and a groan of you waking up.

"Miggy?" You mumble, lifting the eyemask up only to squint immediately at the angelic glow forming around Miguel. "'M still dreaming, aren't I?" Yawning through your question, Miguel shuffles into the room to sit on the edge of the bed.

"How's your head?" Miguel keeps his voice low, helping you sit upright before passing you some more water.

Taking a long sip, you sigh as the glass leaves your lips. "Never had any complaints." You joke, resulting in Miguel rolling his eyes whilst you chuckle to yourself. "It's a bit better, think the worst of the migraine is over."

"Tu quieres quedar, la monada?" Quick to slump against Miguel's lap, you hum in response, muttering something under your breath. "Que?"

"Heard you talking to the others." The mumble is more coherent this time, and Miguel nods. "Thank you, I'll make it up to Mayday tomorrow."

"Only when you're ready." Miguel strokes your hair from your face, removing the face mask hanging from your forehead. "Go back to sleep, okay? I'll check on you in a bit." He leans down, kissing your temple before helping you back to lying down.

As Miguel rises to leave, your hand shoots out to grab his. "Can you stay for a bit? Just 'til I nod off again?" Your pout was almost irresistible, something you knew and often used to get your way when it came to the big boss, much to his own dismay.

"I'll keep my eye out, boss." Lyla comments, appearing beside you, and smirking at you with a knowing nod.

"Fine." Miguel admits defeat, lifting his arms up for you to bury your face into his chest. "Ten minutes, Lyla, si?"

Checking her watch, Lyla nods before disappearing once more, and Miguel can't help but allow his eyes to close, just for a minute.

"Ugh, they're so cute." Lyla takes a photo, knowing somewhere in Miguel's heart, he'll love having this moment immortalized for all to see (well, maybe just you.)

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[ltash]

Unbearable

SimonGhostRileyxFemaleReader 'Oneshot' Word Count 6k approx

Warning: Hot sex, Dubcon, Intercourse.

From fighting to fucking. You knew what happens when you tease your Lieutenant.

"The mission was a fuck up because of you Lieutenant". You entered the safehouse with him following after. Your uniform messy, hair dishelved. "I nearly died because of you."

He was your superior but you were always fighting with eachother.

Your words cut through the air like a knife, sharp and edged with disappointment. Ghost's composure remains outwardly calm, the only visible reaction the slight tightening of his jaw beneath the skull balaclava.

"The mission went sideways," he responds, his tone low and measured, betraying just a hint of defensiveness. "I can't control every variable, princess."

"Shut up! I am not your princess LT. I am a sergeant." You spat.

Ghost's eyes narrow, the tension in the room crackling like a livewire. He takes a step closer to you, his towering form looming above you.

"You're right," he retorts, his voice a low growl. "You're not a princess. You're a sergeant who's acting like a damn child, throwing a tantrum because things didn't go your way. Grow up."

"You need to grow up Ghost." You shot back.

"Oh, I need to grow up?," he snaps, his patience wearing thin. "You're the one who can't even follow a simple order without arguing. Who's the child here? You're damn insubordinate and reckless."

His eyes raked over your form, taking in your petite stature and the way your uniform clung to your curves. He hated how goddamn perfect you were. His eyes darkened with a mixture of irritation and desire.

"LT! You nearly got me killed and you are still denying. The bomb just exploded near me. If it wasn't for my decision making I wouldn't be here alive." You crossed your arms on your chest.

The reminder of your near-death experience sparks a pang of guilt in Ghost's heart, but he quickly pushes it aside, masking it with a scoff.

"You put yourself in that situation," he snaps. "I gave you orders for a reason. But you never listen; you always have to do things your damn way."

"Oh God damn you are impossible LT. I just can't anymore with you." You said as you sat on the couch."

"Yeah, the feeling's mutual," he grumbled, leaning against the wall and watching you. Despite his irritation, his eyes were drawn to the way your hips curved when you sat down.

"Can't believe I am doing this with you." I gritted my teeth in frustration.

Ghost's gaze locked onto you again, the corners of his lips curling into a faint smirk.

"Doing what, exactly?" His voice a deep, velvety low rumble.

"Nothing." Just go to sleep.

"Oh, now you want me to go to sleep, princess?" He chuckled, pushing himself off the wall and stalking towards you. "You make it sound like I'm the one who's causing all the trouble around here."

"You are my superior and I am giving you the benfit of doubt. I spare you. Now please spare me." I clasped my hands together.

Ghost's smirk widened, the sight of you pleading with him was doing things to him in ways he never imagined.

"Oh, so you're sparing me now? How generous." He drawled, taking another step towards you, closing the distance between you. "And what exactly am I supposed to spare you from, sergeant?"

You took off your boots throwing them away across the room. You clutched the cushion. "I am gonna sleep peacefully now." You said.

Ghost's eyes widened as you kicked off your boots, revealing your sock-clad feet. the sight sent a jolt of heat straight to his core.

He leaned against the armchair, his gaze fixed on you as you clutched the cushion. "Sleep peacefully, huh?" he mused, tilting his head to the side, his eyes raking over your form, lingering on your curves. "You gonna dream about me, princess?"

"My feet smells like a mouse died here. It stinks. This mission sucks and you too." You said as you stood up and took off your socks.

Ghost watched as you took off your socks, his eyes following the movement of your fingers, a mix of annoyance and desire pooling within him.

"Oh, now it's my fault that your feet stink? " he retorted, trying to keep his focus on your face and not the curves of your body. "You're the one who's being a pain in the ass, not me."

Urgh! You gritted your teeth as you made your way to the washroom. You started washing your socks, your hands, your feet and your face which had a layer of dirt. You opened your long hairs. Your took off your uniform's jacket revealing only your tshirt. You came out of the bathroom.

Ghost's jaw clenched the moment you came out of the bathroom. He could see the curves of you body in just a t-shirt and cargo pants. His eyes followed your every move, devouring the sight of you in his mind. He let out a low breath, silently cursing himself for how Goddamn gorgeous you looked right now.

"What?" You settled on the couch. Taking out your cellphone.

His eyes roamed over you, taking in the way your body looked on the couch, so inviting. His mouth felt dry all of a sudden.

"What are you doing?" He managed to ask, trying to keep his voice casual, but failing miserably.

"Scrolling facebook." You casually replied.

He watched as you scrolled through Facebook on your phone as if nothing was wrong, as if just moments ago you weren't arguing with him. The casualness of your response was driving him insane.

"You're just going to sit there and scroll through Facebook, like nothing happened?" He grumbled, his eyes still glued to your body.

"There is no use of bickering right now. I have just survived an ordeal and I need some rest." You said.

Ghost couldn't argue with that. As much as he wanted to continue the back and forth, he knew you were right. You had almost died just hours ago.

"You're right," he relented, running a hand through his face, his eyes still fixed on you. "You need to rest. We'll talk about this later."

"God I can't sleep in these messy clothes. Do you have a tshirt I can borrow?" You asked.

Ghost's breath caught in his throat as you asked for a tshirt. The thought of you wearing his shirt sent a bolt of heat straight to his groin. He cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Uh, yeah. I have a clean t-shirt," he replied, his eyes fixed on you, "But it's gonna be big on you, you know that, right?"

"No problem LT. I wear oversized clothes quite a lot." I said.

Ghost nodded, his mind wandering to the thought of you in his oversized tshirt. The visual alone was driving him insane.

"Alright," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "Stay here, I'll get it for you."

He went to his duffel bag and rummaged through it, finding a clean white t-shirt. He returned and handed it to you, his fingers lingering on yours for a moment before drawing back.

"Don't you have any other colour except white?" You rolled your eyes.

Ghost couldn't help but let out a huff of amusement. Even when asking for a tshirt, you were still being picky. "No, I don't have anything in any other color," he replied, a hint of mockery in his voice. "You gonna refuse to wear it just because it's white?"

"I guess I'll have to manage then. Thanks." I said as I stomped my way to the bathroom.

Ghost stood there, watching you storm off to the bathroom, his eyes fixated on your backside. He couldn't help but enjoy how cute you looked when you were annoyed.

He settled on the armchair, leaning back, his mind filled with thoughts of you wearing just a white t-shirt and nothing.

He cleared his throat, his eyes following you until you disappeared into the bathroom.

As you stepped into the warm shower, the water cascaded down your body, the heat and steam surrounding you. With the door closed, you were momentarily out of Ghost's sight, but not out of his mind.

He sat back in his chair, trying to distract himself from the image of you in his mind, wet and soapy, your bruises on display.

In the shower, your body was soothingly caressed by the warm water and the suds of Ghost's body wash. The scent of it, masculine and a little earthy, filled the air. Each gentle touch of your hands onto your soft curves sent a shiver through you, the aching parts of your body slowly relaxing under the pressure.

As you emerged from the shower, your long hair damp, Ghost's eyes immediately landed on you.

His breath hitched in his throat as you stepped out of the bathroom, the sight of you in his white t-shirt sending his thoughts into a frenzy. The shirt was big on you, hanging low on your shoulders, barely covering the curves of your hips.

He struggled to keep his gaze from roaming over your body, his eyes drawn to the damp strands of hair clinging to your neck, the hint of wetness on your skin.

"Thanks for the shirt." You whispered.

Ghost's eyes remained glued to your figure, his brain struggling to form words. You looked so damn beautiful in his shirt, his mind filled with thoughts of pulling you onto his lap and devouring you whole.

He cleared his throat, "No problem...princess," he managed to rasp out.

He looked away, trying to keep his gaze from roaming over your legs, the sight of you in his shirt driving him almost crazy.

He could tell you were eyeing him, your gaze roaming over his form. The way your eyes took in his cargo pants, his tattooed arm, his flexed muscles, and the tautness of his shirt against his chest.

He was used to people looking at him, sizing him up, but coming from you, it felt different. It was almost as if your gaze was caressing him, sending a strange, unfamiliar heat through his body.

Ghost's mind was filled with conflicting thoughts as your gaze roamed over him. It felt strangely intimate, as if you were undressing him with just a look.

He could feel his heart rate increasing, his breathing becoming shallow under your gaze. It was as if your eyes were setting his body on fire, awakening something deep within him that he hadn't felt in a long time.

Your brief, almost involuntary, bite on your lip didn't go unnoticed by Ghost. His eyes darkened slightly, his sharp gaze locking on to your mouth, watching as your teeth grazed over your bottom lip.

He shifted in his chair, his legs spreading wider in a display of masculine dominance, he found himself focusing on the way your eyes followed his every move. He noted the way you bit your lip again, the action stirring something primal in him.

Ghost's eyes zeroed in on your thighs as you settled on the couch, the sight of them so close yet so unattainable driving him insane. The shirt rode up, revealing more of your skin to his gaze, making him want to reach out and touch you, to feel the softness of your thighs under his fingers.

He was used to people being intimidated by his size, his appearance, but there was something about you, about the way you looked at him, that made him want to show you more, to make you see why they call him 'Ghost'.

He could see it in your eyes, the attraction, the fire that was beginning to burn within you. The heat in your gaze was unmistakable, the way your eyes never strayed from him.

His body reacted almost involuntarily to your gaze, his own desire and lust awakening in response to your intense attention. A shiver ran through him, as if your eyes were physically touching him, fueling the flames of his own desire, making them grow.

Your unwavering determination, your strong, unwavering gaze, didn't go unnoticed by Ghost. He could see the fire in your eyes, the determination to make him yours.

His mind was fighting against it, telling him this was a bad idea, that he shouldn't give in to this desire, but his body and his own intense attraction couldn't help but react. He felt pulled towards you, a magnet to your intense gaze.

Ghost was torn between his own desire and his need to keep his professional boundaries intact. He knew this wasn't a good idea, that he should shut it down. But being the focus of your intense desire was making it incredibly difficult.

He sat there, his body rigid, his own gaze fixed on you, trying to maintain a mask of composure. But the fire in your eyes was too strong, too intoxicating, and he could feel himself slowly giving in to the pull, drawn to the fire like a moth to a flame.

He was practically losing his mind. The way you sat, the way you looked at him, the way your body was practically begging for him, it was driving him crazy.

"F-ck," he muttered, his voice gruff and full of need. "You're driving me crazy, you know that?"

He watched as you sat there, your body practically begging for his touch. His hands clenched into fists, the need to grab you and draw you close warring with his own self-control.

He let out a low growl, his voice rough and gravelly, "You've no idea what you're doing to me, princess...driving me insane with that look in your eyes, the way you're sitting there... it's taking every ounce of my restraint not to take you right here, right now."

His eyes traced up the arch of your neck as you rested your head on the couch, the delicate skin practically begging to be marked. The sight of your pulse, the reminder of the life flowing within you, sent a shiver through him.

He wanted to mark that neck, to leave his own unique stamp on your skin.

You moved on the couch, bringing your knees to your chest, Ghost's gaze trailed down to where the shirt had ridden up, revealing your legs, all the way up to the edge of your panties.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry, as he took in the sight of you. Your legs, so soft and exposed, the edge of your panties peeking from the bottom of his shirt, it was all he could do not to pounce on you that very moment.

Watching you bite your thumb, your unwavering gaze on him, was driving him insane. His eyes grew even darker, his desire burning hotter and hotter.

He could see the way your teeth gently grazed over your thumb, the innocence and sensuality mixed in the action. It was almost as if you were taunting him, testing his restraint, seeing how long he could hold out.

Your action, the way you slowly inserted your finger into your mouth, licked it, and then pulled it out slowly, was the final straw for him.

He abruptly stood up, his chair scraping back as his body moved on instinct, drawn to you like a magnet. In a few long strides, he was standing in front of you, his eyes dark and intense, his body taut with need.

He stood towering over you, his body close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. His breathing was ragged, his eyes locked on your parted lips. He wanted to taste those gasps, to swallow them down and make them his.

He watched as you rested your head back on the couch, your unwavering gaze still locked on his. It was almost torturous, the way you were just out of reach, yet so close at the same time.

He leaned closer, his body almost touching yours, yet still not quite closing the gap completely. He could feel the tension between you growing, the air thick with anticipation and need.

Ghost's eyes darkened, his voice a low, gravelly growl. "Stop looking at me like that, princess."

As you pulled your hair aside, the action revealing the smooth, unmarked skin of your neck, his eyes immediately went to the exposed flesh. The sight of the shirt clinging to your breasts, emphasizing your curves, made his mouth go dry.

The sight of you biting your thumb and caressing your lips was driving him insane. Each movement was seductive, seemingly innocent, yet incredibly alluring.

Your slow stand, the way you rose up on your tip toes, bringing your face so painfully close to his own, was like a physical blow to Ghost. Your breaths mingling with his sent a shiver through his body.

His own breath hitched in his throat as you slowly folded his mask up, revealing his lips, his mouth, to you. The feeling of your lips brushing against his was electric, a bolt of pure desire shooting through him.

The moment your lips brushed against his, a shudder reverberated deep within his chest. The primal need for more consumed him, overriding his every thought.

With an abrupt motion he pressed you onto the nearest wall, pinning you there. The solid surface of the wall felt cool against your back, contrasting the feverish heat that was emanating from him.

He pinned you there, his body trapping you between him and the wall, his breaths coming out in ragged, hungry gasps. "You tease too much."

It was like a dam breaking. As soon as your lips met, the hunger and desire that had been building in Ghost for so long, burst through. His mouth fused with yours, the kiss hungry and desperate, full of raw need.

With each gasp that escaped your lips, each whimper that vibrated in your throat, Ghost could feel the last of his control slipping away.

He claimed your mouth in a scorching kiss, a hungry, demanding kiss that devoured and claimed, a kiss that spoke of a desire that had been brewing for far too long.

His hands, possessive and hungry, roamed your body, mapping every curve, every inch of flesh, his touch burning a hot trail on your skin. He could feel you straining against him, your body desperate to get even closer.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted you up like you weighed nothing at all, pulling your shirt over your head, his hands greedy as they roamed your now exposed skin.

Your breath was knocked out of you as your back hit the wall. Ghost's body pressed against you, his mouth still devouring yours, his tongue exploring and claiming every inch of your mouth.

One of his hands slid down your waist to your thighs, hiking up your legs around his waist, holding you pinned against the wall, completely under his control.

The sexy cry that escaped your lips and into his mouth sent a shock straight to Ghost's groin. His body shuddered with a mixture of need and control, his hands gripping your thighs tighter as he pressed himself even closer to you.

He pulled back, his mouth moving down to your neck, his lips and tongue exploring, tasting, marking the soft flesh.

The sound of your whimper, the way you pulled at his shirt, sent a wave of desire through Ghost. The need to feel your hands on him, skin to skin, was overwhelming.

He pulled back just enough to tear his shirt off, discarding it somewhere behind him. Now bare-chested, he pressed himself back against you, his body flush against yours, the heat of his skin seeping into you.

He continued his assault on your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, marking each spot as his. His lips moved down to your chest, planting wet kisses on your skin, each one sending another wave of desire through you.

He could feel you writhing against him, the way your body responded to his touch, making his body hot and heavy, craving more.

He went down kissing your chest, his tongue making hot circles around your small buds of nipples before he nipped and sucked them taking them in his mouth.

His other hand playing with the soft mound of your other breast. Your back arched, pleasure coursing through your veins as you craved for more. He continued his wet trails of kisses between your breasts and then all the way down your belly button.

You bit your finger in pleasure as his tongue made contact on the sensitive skin below your belly button.

Your panties came down in one smooth pull as he trailed kisses on your sensitive spot. He nips and bites at the skin of your hip.

The feeling of your body quivering against him, the sound of your gasps and moans filling the air, had Ghost's eyes darkening with desire. He took his time, feasting on your skin, as his tongue and mouth explored the sensitive spots on your hips, driving you wild.

He could feel you writhing, begging, body arching to get closer to him. He relished the sounds you made, the way you responded to his every touch. He nipped and bit at your hip, marking you, claiming you.

"You're so responsive," Ghost whispered huskily, his breath hot against your ear as he nipped and bit at your neck.

He could feel you trembling beneath him, your body arching towards his touch. His hand, strong and determined, made its way between your thighs, teasing and exploring. He lifted your leg up. His fingers stretching your folds making their way inside.

Simon! Your body arched towards him.

A low growl rumbled in his throat as your body arched towards him. The sound of his name on your lips, the way your body reacted to him, was driving him wild.

He pressed himself closer to you, his chest against yours, his breath hot and heavy on your skin. "I can't get enough of you," he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

His fingers continued their slow, teasing exploration inside you, driving you mad with need. He loved seeing you like this, completely undone, completely at his mercy.

Simon's fingers found the sweet spot inside you, and as he curled them up, a wave of pleasure washed over you, making your body arch against him. He held your chin in his other hand, his grip firm and steady, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"I love seeing you like this," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "So desperate, so needy for me."

Your face was wet from the tears of pleasure, but he couldn't get enough of the way you looked, completely undone and at his mercy.

He unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, his eyes never leaving you. The sight of you, trembling with desire, waiting for him, was more than he could bear.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he pressed his cock at your entrance, pushing it inside you. Your legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer, bringing him deeper.

His forehead pressed against yours as he drove his cock inside you.

Simon! You cried out his name. Your nails digging in his back. Fuck! You moaned.

"Don't hold back," he growled as his name spilled out from your lips, your nails digging into his back. "Let me hear you."

He continued to drive into you, each movement sending waves of pleasure through your body. You were lost in him, completely consumed by him.

"Oh babe," he rasped as your hands came up to cup his face, your eyes meeting his. The look in your eyes, the way you looked at him, was like fuel to the fire burning inside him.

He continued to drive his cock into you, his movements growing faster and more intense, his eyes locked on yours. "Don't look away," he commanded. "I want to watch you."

He picked you up with ease, carrying you to the bed that dominated the small bedroom. Your legs wrapped around him, taking him fully, and he pinned you against the mattress.

With a swift motion, his body was over yours, covering you, surrounding you.

"This is where you belong," he growled. "Under me, under my control."

"Oh Fuck me babe!" You moaned. "I am such a slut for you."

"Such a dirty little mouth and a pretty little cunt you have." He growled.

"That's it," he encouraged, his voice a low growl in your ear. "Let go, give yourself over to me. I've got you."

He continued to drive his cock into you, each movement more powerful than the last, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your body was taut and arching, trying to keep up with the pleasure he was bringing you.

You clutched the sheets and bit the pillow as the sensations threatened to overwhelm you. He was relentless, dominant, and he was taking you to the very edge.

He felt your body tense and arch beneath him, the wave of pleasure crashing over you like a tsunami. Your whimpers and moans turned into sobs as you succumbed to the intensity of your release.

He held your face in his large hands, his eyes locking with yours. He watched as the pleasure washed over you, his own desire growing stronger with each gasp and whimper that escaped your lips.

"That's it," he murmured, his voice rough and guttural. "Let it all out."

"Simon!" You sobbed his name breathlessly.

"Oh, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he took in the sight of you beneath him, breathless and sobbing.

His grip on your face tightened slightly, his eyes burning with need and desire. "You're so beautiful like this," he whispered, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "So lost in me. So completely mine."

He saw the tears fall from your eyes, the way your mascara streaked down your face, your lipstick smeared. You looked broken, completely undone, and it only served to drive his own desire even higher.

He leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath hot against your skin. "So beautiful," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "I did this to you, and I ain't finished yet."

"Oh my God." You whined.

His lips curved into a smug smile as your words escaped in a whine, a mixture of pleasure and exhaustion.

"Oh my god, is right," he chuckled, his voice low and sultry. "You've got no idea what I've got planned for you."

"Fuck!" You moaned.

He chuckled at your response, his voice deep and possessive. "That's right," he purred. "Let me hear you."

He continued to move inside you, his movements slow and deliberate, drawing out every moan and plea from your lips. "Say my name again," he commanded.

"Simon! Babe." You bit your lip.

"Yeah, that's it," he groaned, the sound of his name on your lips driving him wild. "Say it again."

He continued to move inside you, his pace picking up slightly, his body pressed against yours. "Louder," he demanded. "I want you to scream my name."

Si- Simon! You screamed breathlessly.

"That's it," he praised, his voice a low growl.

He could feel you clinging to him, your body shuddering and writhing beneath him as he drove into you. The sound of your scream was like music to his ears, driving his desire higher and higher.

"Say my name again," he demanded, his voice thick with need. "I want to hear you say it again."

Simon! You whispered.

"Oh, I love the sound of my name on your lips," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "But I need to hear you speak louder."

He continued to move inside you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge again. Each thrust was powerful, determined to make you scream his name louder.

"Say it again," he commanded, "louder this time."

"Simon! My love." You pleaded.

His heart skipped a beat at the words that came from your lips, a mixture of possession and tenderness overwhelming him.

He could feel your pleading, your need, your desire for him. It only fueled his own need, his own desire.

"Oh, you're killing me," he groaned, his voice rough and guttural. "Say it again, darling. Call me your love again."

"Simon! I love you so much." You whined.

At the sound of your voice, the words that you spoke, his body tensed against yours, the confession sending a rush of emotion through him.

He let out a deep, guttural moan, his voice low and rugged. "I love you, too," he murmured, his hands tightening their grip on you.

"Say it again," he demanded, his pace increasing, his body driven by a primal need. "Say you love me again."

"I love you. I love you so much." You cried.

Your words hit him like a wave, washing over him in a flood of emotions. He could feel the depth of your love, the sincerity of your confession, and it only made him crave you more.

His body trembled against yours, his movements erratic, driven by a primal need to claim you, to make you his.

"Again," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "Say it again. I need to hear you say it again."

He could hear the desperation in your words, the way you were pulling at your hair, and he knew you were close to the edge. The sight of you, desperate and needy, pleading for him, for his love, only sent his own desire spiralling out of control.

He felt his body tense against yours, his movements growing almost frantic as he strove to give you what you needed.

"Again," he demanded, his voice breathless and ragged. "Say you love me again. Scream it, baby."

"I love you babe." You broke out in tears.

"Oh, darling," he murmured, his voice almost a whisper as he saw the tears fall from your eyes. He felt a pang in his chest, a mixture of guilt and tenderness as he saw you broken beneath him.

He leaned down, his body covering yours, his lips finding the tears on your cheeks. "I love you," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I love you so much, darling. Don't cry."

Oh babe! You felt like you were passing out. "I can't take it anymore." You pleaded.

He could sense that you were reaching your limit, that you were on the verge of passing out. But he couldn't stop, not now.

He leaned down, his mouth against your ear, his voice low and rough. "Yes, you can," he commanded. "You can take it. You're mine, only mine. You'll take whatever I give you. And you'll love every second of it."

He saw the look in your eyes as the next wave of pleasure washed over you, your body tightening and arching beneath him, your scream filling the room.

He held you tight as you passed out, the sound of your name a ragged whisper on his lips.

As he reached his release, his body trembled and tensed against yours. He groaned your name, the sound a mix of relief and pleasure, as he rode out the waves of his orgasm.

He collapsed beside you, pulling you close to him, his arms encircling you in a tight embrace. He felt exhausted, drained, but also incredibly satisfied.

You began to sob, your emotions raw and exposed, he held you close, his arms wrapping tightly around you. He could feel the tears against his chest, the way your body trembled against his.

"Shhh," he whispered, gently stroking your hair. "It's okay, darling."

He held you, letting you cry, his heart aching for the beautiful, broken woman in his arms.

[safe-by-dawn]

Hi! I loved the Toby headcanons you wrote! Can we please get a yandere nsfw Ticci Toby x reader?

~Possession~

Yandere!Ticci Toby/Toby Rogers x SlightlyDeranged!Reader (Smut)

Requests are currently open!

MDNI!

My first request! I'm so glad you enjoyed it! I had a lot of fun writing them and I can't wait to get some time to write for some more Pastas! I got some good ideas up my sleeve.

Also I made the reader super into the fact that Toby fucks up anybody that even gets near his s/o, so if you were thinking of a more innocent/scared reader just send me another ask but but honestly anybody that gets with Toby better be into that because he's gonna burn cities for his s/o.

I hope you enjoy reading this just as much as I did writing it!

WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Murder, Public Sex.

Let me know if I should add anything to the warnings! I try my best to add what I think is necessary but sometimes I can't tell when something should be included.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His hand was on your thigh, squeezing the flesh there and it was enough to make your heart drop for the poor man that had taken up residence next to you at the bar. He didn’t know what he was getting himself into. He didn’t know that the small touch that still lingered on your thigh would be his one way ticket to an early demise.

He didn’t know that the other man beside you practically owned you at this point, and he surely didn’t know that you took some sick, demented enjoyment out of watching the way he gets when he’s jealous. It’s lethal.

“Won’t you come home with me, darling?” The words are slurred, barely even there when he leans towards your ear.

You can practically feel Toby stiffen beside you, radiating anger in such a way that it seeps into your clothes and fuses into your bones leaving a sweet, delicious ache in the pit of your stomach. He’s a good fuck normally, but the switch that flips when he gets jealous is unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

“I suggest you take your hand off me,” Your eyes finally meet his, a coy smile playing at your lips, “If you want to make it through the night, that is.”

Your hand moves to push the man’s off your thigh, but he keeps your flesh in a vice-grip as he speaks, “Feisty, I love that in a woman.”

You can’t help the small giggle that pulls its way out of your throat as you feel Toby finally move. You don’t know how he’s held back for this long. You know the jealousy is burning in him, and his eyes are on the two of you. You don’t even have to look over at him to know it. Toby’s own hand finally shoots out and in one swift motion, grabs the man's fingers and twists, pushing them towards him and you hear the sickly snap before you see the way his fingers are now bent, definitely broken.

He might have a chance if he stops now, but now you have anger on both sides of you, and you just know it won’t end here. You know Toby has no reason to hold back, and he won’t. He doesn’t know how. Not anymore.

“Fuckin’ bitch.” The man pushes out of his seat, moving towards the man that just snapped his fingers.

The bar stool scratches heavily against the wood floor as Toby finally stands, gripping onto the man's collar and practically dragging him out of the dingy dive bar. They’re out of the door before you can even stand, and you take a moment to fish an almost empty pack of cigarettes out of your pocket, pulling one out and lighting it before reaching for the money you kept in the back pocket of your jeans.

It’s at least a hundred but you don’t count it before throwing it down. Call it payment for damages for when someone finally finds that sour fucker’s body the next morning.

You pull a drag from your cigarette as you move to get up, your own bar stool screeching into the air and you finally allow yourself to look to the only duo that rests in the corner of the bar and giving them a small smile. Their eyes pull quickly away from yours and you finally make your way outside into the just as disgusting night air that surrounds the establishment.

You can hear him before you see him. The labored grunts of him most likely already crushing the man’s head in is just around the corner, leading into the dark alleyway, and the fact that you can only hear Toby is a sure sign that he’s almost done with the man. His life’s probably gone, but Toby has so much anger stored in his body from that interaction that he might be there for a moment before he feels like he’s finally finished with him.

The scene you walk into is much worse than you expected, and some part of you is glad that it’s dark. The wall behind them is a disgusting inky color that you can only guess is blood. Some broken bones, arms contorted in a way that makes your stomach turn, even after getting comfortable with seeing what kind of aftermath Toby can leave behind, it’s a little bit much.

Toby has his hands splayed onto the brick of the wall, holding himself stable as his foot sinks another kick into the limp leftovers of the man on the ground. Once you finally make it closer to him you can hear him whispering, voice coming out in a low growl that sets your skin on fire.

Mine, she’s mine.

You let your hands rest on his back, pushing to wrap around him, hands coming to rest just under his shirt on his bare stomach. You let your thumbs toy at the waistband before gripping onto it, and it usually serves to pull Toby back to the real world. Tugging him out of his thoughts proves to be a little harder tonight, but his hand comes to rest on one of yours before he lets the man have one more kick before pushing himself off of the wall and turning his face towards you.

It’s splattered with dark red, and if you hadn’t known him, you would think it was his own, but you know the man doesn’t have a single scratch on him. You pull your hand from his waistband to tug the cigarette out of your mouth after taking a long draw, moving it to Toby’s mouth and pressing the butt of it to his lips. He pulls his own draw off of it before you toss it to the ground, not worrying about stomping it out. You wouldn’t have time even if you had wanted to.

Toby’s lips crash hard against your own after he exhales the smoke, and you drink him in like you’ve been thirsting your whole life and he’s the water you’ve fought so hard to finally reach. Your teeth hit his in the mess of a kiss, and you’re sure he’s drawn blood when he finally bites at your bottom lip.

“You’re fucking mine.” His voice comes out with a growl of arousal and over-exhaustion, and it only serves to push you closer to the brink and his hands aren’t even on you yet. His usual stutter is nowhere to be found, lost in the clouded haze of anger and post-murder. His mind’s only on one thing and it’s you. All of it is you.

“All yours.”

You can barely get the words out before he’s pushing and pulling, pressing your back hard against the other side of the alleyway and his mouth finds its way to your throat. He bites hard, no doubt leaving a bruise already forming. You can feel him all around you, hands all over your body, pulling at your clothes and undoing the button on your jeans. He pushes them down quickly, and the way the night air presses heavily into your form is the only thing to remind you that you’re still outside.

Anybody could see you, anybody could see what he’s done, and anybody can see the mess he’s about to make of you. It sends a delicious chill up your spine. His lips press against yours once more before he’s pulling away and pressing your face into the brick of the building, no doubt scratching you up a bit, but it’s worth it. It’ll all be worth it as long as he takes you right here. You’re far enough in the dark that as long as nobody follows the sounds pouring from your mouth then you’ll be just fine.

His mouth lands on your shoulder and even through the fabric, the weight of his bite tears a shriek out of you. “Keep making those sounds for me.” His voice filters into your ears, and you can’t help but push back into him. The thin fabric of your panties does little to keep the denim of his jeans from rubbing you deliciously, and you can feel every inch of him through his jeans. You’re practically drooling at this point and he knows it.

“You’re fucking sick, y’know that?” He speaks before he presses a smaller bite into your earlobe and his hand finally pulls your panties down to meet where your jeans rest at the bottom of your thighs. “You do this on purpose, don’t you?” His scarred fingers finally press against your slit, pushing just enough to feel how wet you are, but not giving you what you wanted just yet.

You can only nod, words not able to form in the knot he has tied in your throat.

“You get off on me killing for you,” He laughs then, absolutely deranged, exactly how you like him. “You’re- You’re just like me.”

His fingers finally circle your clit, pulling some of the pent-up arousal out of you in the form of a moan and the words finally slip out of you, “Jus’ like you, Toby, Fuck.” You huff as his fingers work you, pulling you closer to your edge and you can feel him trying to undo his pants with one hand and your mouth waters at the thought of him finally filling you up.

“You love me?” He asks, he always asks and you always answer.

“Only you, Toby.”

He leaves another bite on your shoulder as he pulls himself out of his pants, resting against your ass and never slowing his hand on your cunt as he says his next words, “Then cum for me, baby.” It comes out as a whine, begging, delicious, and twisting your insides.

It pushes you so close, almost to the edge. As he finally slips into you, you tumble, falling over the edge as his hips finally snap into you. He fucks you through it, as words fall out of your mouth in an incoherent mess and you can only hear him chuckle behind you. You can only feel his hands on you as he finally pulls off of your sensitive clit to grip heavily onto your hips. All you can do is brace yourself as he fucks into you, chasing his own high.

His grunts fill the Alley, and the way he growls sets you on fire as your body tries to come down from its high. He doesn’t let it though, cock pressing hard into your sweet spot with each thrust. His hips hit against you with a bruising weight as he fills you to the brim with every bit of him, every inch stretches you out deliciously. You can feel it coming again, can feel the tight coil in your abdomen get worse with every thrust.

He finally snaps his hips and keeps them pressed against you and him cumming inside of you pulls you over the edge for a second time like a noose tied around a rock and your neck and he just threw it into the ocean.

You both come undone and your cunt milks him for everything he’s worth. His growls fill the air around you as he ruts against you, thrusting another time before he pulls out of you. Your mixed fluids leak out the smallest bit before he’s pulling your clothes up and buttoning your jeans for you. He lands a light smack to your ass before he’s finally fixing himself and his hand finds purchase in your hair to finally pull you off the wall and into him.

His thumb presses heavily into your cheek, smearing the blood from the scratches the dirty brick gave you before he presses it into his tongue. He’s fucking deranged, but you’d be lying through your teeth if you didn’t admit you were just as fucked up as he was.

[jolalibrary]

sunrise

francisco morales x santiago garcia

GIF credit to @perotovar

summary: after mixed messages, pope asks frankie if he'll watch the sunrise with him.

wordcount: 1.1k warnings: none. jo doing jo things with words. just two boys, mixed messages and a bit of hope. an: happy pride. this fic is dedicated to the lovely, wonderful @perotovar who not only is a great friend, but also has never made me feel like i'm not part of pride. it's been a long time since I've written m/m, but erin, your kind words (and gif) filled me with joy. i hope this fills you with joy too.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz—

He doesn’t need to look, to smack his hand around the bedside table, Frankie knows where his phone is.

Retrieving it, pressing it to his ear—old sleep crusting in his eyes—Frankie lets out a soft groan, the weight of lingering thoughts still pushing heavily against his mind. With a reluctant sigh, he mumbles a tender hello, his voice heavy, gruff.

“Hey,” Pope says.

It elongates, stretches out like a fragile thread suspended between them—as though another word should have followed but isn’t spoken.

“You awake?”

“Am now.”

He doesn’t miss the chuckle that’s embedded into the breath. Nor, how it brushes down and through the phone. A sensation bubbling across his skin, his body remembering how it feels to have it against him.

“You’ve not been replying—in the group chat.”

He rubs his face, the motion all a hopeless attempt to awaken his mind, wishing the act would spur on words. Something. Anything to bridge the aching void between them.

It doesn’t.

It just adds to the other things churning inside him, layering over doubts and questions—the ones that linger unanswered, even when they are alone, haunting the spaces between their moments together.

Sliding the phone back against his cheek, he sighs. “Yeah, sorry. Just… wasn’t checking things.”

“Yeah, thought so.”

He hums, and then releases a heavy breath. Needing to fill the silence before it begins. Not wanting to find out if today it’s comfortable or the opposite.

“You busy?”

“At 3 in the morning?”

Pope laughs—and Frankie hates how much he likes the sound. Despises it, almost. Loathes it, like he detests how he feels.

“Didn’t know if you wanted to watch the sunrise with me.”

“I’m a whole flight from you, Pope.”

“Don’t have to be in the same location to watch the sun come up, Fish.”

“We fuckin’ do if it comes up at different times, cabrón.”

There’s a pause, then a chuckle. One that begins with Pope and then ends with him. It fills the air, the space, the area between them that they pretend not to notice or ask about whenever they come home.

Because home isn’t out there, where they’re adorned in layers that barrier against artillery and threats; home isn’t where they help the other free from it all in the comfort of a base room or a tent in the middle of nowhere. Home is real. It’s chosen paint on the walls and picked out bedding; it’s photographs filled with only the best and souvenirs that remind of good times.

And, right now, the only evidence of Pope here is the memories—

That first kiss. How fuelled it had been, how he’d done it purely to stop the tide of ifs and buts that Pope had been flinging, angrily darting in the hope to hit the bullseye and wound him further than his foolishness had.

And it’s not that Frankie wishes to hang up, it isn’t that he hopes to shove things further into his soul. He’s had his crisis—had it when he’d had Pope pressed against his spine, breath fanning out over his neck, making the hair curled from their earlier activities twitch and tickle.

But, he’s at least come to terms with the fact this isn’t a home thing. A thing which doesn’t exist when he steps on the plane to go back to a life where people call him Francisco. He’s made his peace with it, accepted it—as much as a person can.

He’s done the work to rationalise and reason. So, whatever this phone call is, it feels counterproductive. It feels like sinking, falling through those steps and nets he’s built until he’s drenched in the will-they-won’t-they he’s clambered far away from. The hopes seep into his skin, worming into his brain, threatening to paint shadows on the back of his eyelids at what the two of them could be—

“What are we doing, Pope?”

There’s an exhale. It’s likely a sigh, but it’s hard to assess without the facial expression. The way he wears his feelings in his body language.

“I‘m not sure.”

Frankie expects that, somehow. Yet it still stings, hurts—ripples out like a lashing he’s braced for. Rolling onto his side, he grinds his jaw. Staring at the gap in the curtains, the one that’ll allow light to bleed through in a few more hours, nostrils flaring as he shakes his head.

“I can’t watch the sunrise with you.”

“‘Cause of the time difference?”

Rolling his eyes, he blows out a harsh breath. “No. Because if we do, I’ll confess something that’ll make it hard for you to do that compartmentalising shit that you do about the fact you and I fuck.”

The silence that follows is painful, excruciating. It’s devoid and barren, dull and full of nothing. There’s no background noise to drown it out, the night too quiet, the hour too dormant—to the point it almost makes Frankie feel guilty for disturbing it.

“What if I told you I’m at the motel on 22nd—”

Frankie sits up. Bolt upright. The suddenness of it forces the sheet to fall from his neck to pool at his waist, the air cool flurrying over warm skin, heat blooming in his cheeks.

“—the one you talked about—”

His heart hammers. Pounds.

“—the one you go to when home is a bit too… home.”

“Pope…”

“Fish.”

Swinging his legs from under the sheets, elbow resting on the place above his knee, hand wiping down his face, awake, blood pounding in his ears.

“Por favor no bromees.”

Sighing, blowing it right into his ear. It’s far more soothing, rooting, than it has been before.

“Wanna watch the sunrise with me, Fish?”

Swallowing, fear threatens to poison the joy that is trying to fill his chest. His hand clamps around his knee for leverage, for strength. Squeezing, likely making his skin paler—it returning to colour when he releases as he tries to get his brain to calculate the percentage of how much of a good idea this is.

But then he hears his name. It whispered, with more of an infliction, a question to it.

And so he takes a breath. “Y-yeah. Yeah, I’ll… get dressed now.”

“Okay.”

“Alright.”

A silence unfurls, one nicer, more bearable than any of the others before—

“Well hurry then, Fish.”

And then, as Frankie suspected, Pope ends the call.

tagging: @morallyinept (for your collection)

[boyfhee]

യ CRUSHED : PARK JONGSEONG TEASER

SYNOPSIS : fifteen years, a lost love, untold feelings, a breaking heart— crushed. they say if you wish desperately enough for something, the whole universe gets together to give it to you. perhaps, it's the reason why you find yourself back in your highschool, fifteen years ago, with a fluttering love, some lingering feelings, a doting heart, and your first heart break— park jongseong.

or wherein, life gives you another chance with your first love.

GENRE : fantasy, angst, romance, time travel

WC : teaser is 0.7k, est 10k+ for fic

WARNINGS : angst but with a happy ending guys trust me, a lot of mentions of crying, alcoholic drinks, more will be added in the main fic post

NOTES : i knew my jay era would give birth to a jay long fic i say we cheer :› NO BC THIS MAN IS SO FINE just like this fic i'm planning saur. please read. i hope u enjoy the teaser, send an ask / drop a comment to join the taglist

it’s the invitation you’ve been looking at for ten minutes now, standing outside the venue. papers coloured rose, golden letters engraved, names and air spilling with love. it’s the mood of the day, the flow of a typical august wednesday that carries you inside the venue, to the celebration hall. the air inside smells of fresh roses, it’s expected when you see a huge bunch used as decoration in every corner and on table tops. and then you look at the invitation again.

joo miran weds park jongseong.

your best friend weds your other best friend, your first best friend. your first crush. your first love.

the subtle silence in the air was deafening until you see jay sneaking into miran’s suit, or so you assume, although it’s true. from sneaking into her classes to sneaking into her room at night to take her out for a midnight date, sneaking across hallways to catch a glance— just one look, even a fraction of a second is enough— to now, sneaking around the wedding hall to savour that ‘just one look’ at the bride, his bride, as if a lifetime isn’t waiting for them. 

“i thought grooms and brides weren’t supposed to see each other before the wedding,” it’s your voice that stops jay from kissing her cheeks, although you know he would’ve still done it if he wanted to.

“ah well—” he rubs the back of his neck, it’s a habit that gives away his nervousness. habits are hard to change, let alone letting go of one. “do you really expect me to hold back when she looks like this?” and he looks at her as if she put the stars in the sky, or as if she’s a star herself, graced upon earth for him, and only for him. knowing jay, he would say it. 

“you look good too,” you look perfect, you wanted to say. however, you don’t. you don’t know why, it’s normal for friends to compliment each other. you don’t know how many times you’ve called him handsome, you don’t know the last time you called him that. “congrats, by the way,” 

and loving jay is a habit. 

“thanks,” she smiles, looking at you. “wouldn’t have been possible if not for you,”

it’s something you can’t get out of yourself. no amount of blind dates can do it for you, no amount of heartbreaks can colour him bad. 

“no really,” his voice pulls you out of your thoughts, and you unconsciously smile a bit more. “thanks for setting me up with miran,” 

no amount of time can push you forward to move on from him. fifteen years, a lost love, untold feelings, a breaking heart— crushed. the world moved on, you did too, yet your heart is still there— gyeonggi suwon international school, fourth floor, the first class from the stairs. fourth desk, the one right next to the window, a view expanded across the school ground, a way for you to watch jay’s football matches between lessons. 

his heart is with someone else while yours is where you realised your feelings for him, left behind— crushed. 

and it’s a shame to live like this, as if there’s no point to life. to hold back tears at your best friends’ wedding, to force a smile when they kiss, to stare from a distance when she threw the bouquet, to cry in the washroom after all is done. head buried in your hands, muffled sobs as you hear a few women talk outside your stall. you don’t pay attention to them, you couldn’t. you had realised you couldn’t pay attention to anything that wasn’t him or about him. so you just sit there, head buried in hands, eyes closed, not paying attention to anything.

yn.

you hear your name. 

once.

yn?

twice.

“yn,” thrice. “are you okay?” and you turn around, it’s the same scenario— gyeonggi suwon international school, the fourth desk by the window, the sunlight falling upon. your eyes meet his, and then his smile. your best friend, your first best friend.

your first heartbreak.

“wanna get ice cream on our way back home?” you nod instinctively, habitually. it’s how things went fifteen years ago when you had realised your feelings for him. it feels the same, fluttering love, lingering feelings, a doting heart, and park jongseong.

crushed. 

[estcaligo]

Sebek's ears

x reader *slight angst

"Sebek, put that down!" a worried shout pierced the room. Doctor Zigvolt dashed towards the boy, but it was too late - the child had already nicked his ear. It wasn't a serious injury, thankfully, but blood stained his son's ear, neck, shirt, and his mint hair.

Hearing the commotion, Mrs. Zigvolt hurried into the room. "Darling, what's-...!!!" Her voice caught in her throat, turned into a scream of shock that thundered throughout the household, startling every bird in the vicinity into a flutter of panic, as if sensing an imminent danger. 

But there was no danger. Only blood. And tears. And a kid in front of a mirror with a kitchen knife in his hands.

"Sebek, let me take a look. You might get an infec- " Mr. Zigvolt tried to approach Sebek gently, but the boy pushed him away, sobbing loudly.

"This is your fault! THIS IS YOUR FAULT!! I HATE YOU!!!" Sebek cried out in despair, tears streaming down his sorrowful face as he ran past his parents. Mrs. Zigvolt could easily treat any wounds (it was one of the reasons she had been accepted to work at her husband's clinic despite lacking medical training), but now was not the time - Sebek wouldn't listen. So she just stood beside her spouse, watching their youngest son run away, not daring to break the silence. Words were unnecessary; they both understood. Sebek, despite being only 5, had already expressed a grand displeasure towards his human side. The destructive prejudice he had acquired not without help…

…

"A kitchen knife?... Back in Briar Valley, my grandfather would always look displeased whenever I entered the kitchen. So, I'm entirely unfamiliar with all cooking implements." Sebek said to the ghost chef.

"Oh? Why is that?" the chef asked.

"I have no idea... But he especially kept me away from sharp objects, like knives." he replied, examining the object in his hand.

"Well, mastering this skill is necessary for the course, so do your best!" the chef cheered, floating next to him.

"YES, CHEF!" Sebek boomed, making all the pans and pots shiver, and got back to cooking his dish.

…

It was rigorous but rewarding training, Sebek reflected, slowly washing his hands. Days spent in the kitchen were filled with various instructions and orders from the ghost chefs, requiring quick reactions, but due to their ghostly nature their words often faded, lingering in the air, so a regular human would have trouble hearing them. BUT NOT SEBEK ZIGVOLT. He had perfect hearing, his ears were sharper than...

…Sharper than what?....

He looked into the mirror of the Diasomnia dorm's bathroom, coming to wash away the smell and smudges from the Master Chef course. His face darkened once again as he lingered too long on his right ear. He remembered that day vividly. When he, a young and immature kid, tried to... tried to become a fae? Tired of being bullied by those around him, he believed that if he changed his ears - made them pointy like everyone else's - it would help him fit in. But now he understood how foolish it was.

Yet still. What makes a fae?  A pair of pointy ears? “Not necessarily” is what his mother always used to say Be blessed by night, but don’t forget about the day And he remembers, and he knows No need in those Yet still.

A bitter feeling of unfairness washed over him as he was drifting off to sleep.

Why? Of all human qualities, why did he have to have round ears? He had asked himself this question a million times. And it wasn't as if he lacked fae qualities - his hearing surpassed any human's, and he could even hear and understand the fae language, something no human could do due to its nature. He possessed all these abilities, yet they were overshadowed by this small, bitter nuance - his appearance. Genetics had played a cruel joke on him, he thought. Despite his efforts, he will always look like a weak, useless human.

Speaking of weak humans.

You and Sebek had arranged to meet at the gates to head down to Foothill Town today. Rumor had it that the famous bookshop there had new arrivals, and you were eager to take a look. And since Sebek was so knowledgeable about books, you invited him along. Of course, it wasn't like he really wanted to go with you! He had far more important matters to attend to. However, he couldn't risk you selecting subpar books that you might later mention in conversations with Master Malleus - Sebek couldn't let your lack of discernment in literature reflect poorly on the Young Lord!! So, he was coming with you, for that reason alone, nothing more! … The road wasn't long, and once you arrived at the shop, you began browsing the shelves. The selection was vast: novels, scientific works, poems, historical texts, dictionaries, even books in languages you couldn't understand. Unable to decide, you grabbed a handful of books that caught your attention and retreated to a quiet corner to examine your finds.

“Get on with this human, I don't have all day” he said, standing next to you, arms crossed.

“Ok ok, how about this one?”

"It looks fine. You can keep it, I suppose."

"Great! And this?" you showed Sebek another book, but he frowned slightly.

"It doesn't seem like a decent book to me. Better put it away."

"Why? It's about knights. What exactly do you dislike about it?"

"The cover doesn't look appealing. As if they didn't put much effort into designing it properly!" he declared loudly enough to draw a few judgmental glances from the other customers.

"And that's it?" you blinked at him. "But the plot itself must be good!"

"I've given my opinion, do as you wish, human!" he huffed, turning away.

"...Oh, Sebek. Never judge a book by its cover."

…

In the end, you purchased quite a few books (Crowley had been unusually generous this month, providing you with some extra money), and Sebek helped you carry them back to the Ramshackle. As a thank-you for accompanying you, you offered to share a cup of tea together and he agreed. 

...However, for the two of you, it was never just "a cup of tea".

As usual, you found yourselves engrossed in intimate conversations, drawn close to each other.

Grim was absent, so it was just you and him on the couch in the spacious Ramshackle hall. Two cups of tea, long forgotten and gone cold, sat on the table.

Sebek rested his head on your lap, as he often did during your moments together, rambling about the books, his duties, or about Malleus, speaking quieter than his usual self. And you just patiently listened, knowing how hard he worked every day and wanting him to have some rest once in a while. The fact that he could relax in your presence made you genuinely happy.

Wrapped in serenity, you gently caressed his mint hair, occasionally running your fingers over his ears. You had grown accustomed to seeing them very clearly, as Sebek wore his hair swept back all the time. But when he was with you he sometimes let his hair loose and his ears became hidden amidst the soft waves of green, looking like two small islands surrounded by endless grassy seas. Or like curious animals peeking from the leaves. It was both adorable and endearing, and you couldn't help but giggle quietly. “Human! Is there a problem with your ears?! I'm talking to you!” Sebek's loud voice brought you back from your daydreaming.

“Oh, sorry. I was lost in thought for a moment.” 

“Hmph! And what was so captivating that you ignored my question?”

“Oh... er... your ears” you smiled shyly.

“My... what?”

…

“Your beautiful, lovely, adorable ears" you laughed at his reaction, showering him with compliments before placing a kiss on his right ear - the one he had once tried to...

A wave of strange warmth suddenly flushed through his body. Why would you say such things about his terrible flaw?

All his life, people around him in his homeland had diminished him because of his round ears. On Sage's Island, people just ignored this feature, so he assumed they wouldn't comment on the obvious. But you? The way you touched them, the way you kissed them - without revulsion, without hesitation, without doubt.

For a moment, he felt something unfamiliar - like nothing else mattered. An unusual feeling, one he only experienced by your side. But he liked it.

Who cared if he didn't have pointy ears? Who cared about others' judgments?

You were right - only fools judge a book by its cover.

“Sebek, do you hear me?” you were the one asking this time.

“Yes. Yes, I can hear you very well, dear human” he said, leaning in for a kiss.