#i thought that was just sort of normal and everyone felt that way

[meamiki]

Here is the original ramble! Actually I will preface this new rb by saying please feel free to correct me if I am mistaken in misremembering anything in these!! Okay here it is under the cut proper

vvv

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Okay, so honestly this is more or less an excuse to ramble out an appreciation post (of sorts) on everyone tbh, since I do not do that often if ever. I'm just using the quote picks to keep me a bit focused on topics a bit more specific than being completely aimless!

[Also specialist of special shoutouts to my friends Squid and Aya for proofreading all this. Ily guys ever so dearly <3333]

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Mirabelle

"Avoidance, huh... That feels... a little too cowardly, for me."

The Housemaiden, who would probably fulfill the 'Hero' role if this was a normal RPG, Mirabelle! She has a lot going on that's so interesting to me!! Okay tbf everyone else does too but I really just needed a segue.

She's the chosen one that wasn't really chosen. The reason she was blessed was due to circumstance, and it wasn't even by the Change God either. Because of that, she feels immense pressure/imposter syndrome since she knows the truth of her blessing. Speaking of feelings, she also already felt like she’s failing her own faith for being comfortable with herself, in staying the same forever. For not wanting to Change in that way, when everyone else can, and feeling broken because of it. And, of course, she literally has anxiety and hasn’t had access to her meds throughout the entire quest. That probably also does not help in the slightest!! It's an interesting stewing pot of feeling like a fraud of a 'chosen one' with all that in mind.

And yet, her dedication to her faith and country shines through her actions and words, whether she knows it or not. She’s not someone to avoid her worries. She’ll face them, head-on, even if she doesn't think she'll succeed. I feel like this quote captures it best to me actually! Especially since it's a direct response to Sif saying that they try to avoid their own doubts and worries, in comparison to Mira’s own in her own faith. It almost feels like a subconscious response, and to me that says a lot.

[Side-tangent, but it's also interesting to me that this very dedication works against her, in a sense? Like, notably the bonding proposals. Beyond the societal pressures in play related to the Change belief, she is also the one to take the initiative to ask a dating company for bonding proposals, it didn't just happen around her (as in, no one suggested this to her)? Even when she isn't even interested in dating anyone to begin with! She's not interested in Changing in that way!!! That is to say, her head-on dedication can be to the point of her own detriment at times, to the point of bringing her woe? Not sure if I am wording this properly. Just a thought I had, idk if it has much merit tho. Sorry if that made like no sense!!]

But yeah! She gives it her all in just about everything she does!! She was already known as the most hardworking Housemaiden in the House, always striving to better herself, always taking new classes prior to all this (over 150! and she herself said that she couldn't do anything before coming to the House, which makes it all the more impressive). And when faced with the insurmountable task of saving her home, all of Vauguarde, from being frozen over by the King? She continues on to take on the mantle as the chosen one, the one who will save everyone, and she starts it off completely alone. She's the reason the journey was able to play out, and why everyone is together in the first place. All because she isn't one to avoid her doubts and worries, and willingness to do it scared, yanno? It's just a small part on what I appreciate about her, but I think I'm going to cut myself off here!

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Isabeau

"Doesn't that feel like someone you wouldn't feel ashamed of knowing?"

Isabeau!! Literally the whole “Change is destruction” convo that Isa has prior to this quote was up to be picked, but I figured picking the end would be easiest. But now that I think about it, I think all my picks are basically at the end of the FQ's so that point is sort of moot. Oh well! It's just hard to pick a singular quote off of these okay!!

Isabeau from the start of the game is shown to be portraying himself as a himbo. Big guy, dumb guy, the like. But, even from the start, there are signs that he really isn't stupid, like at all! First early gameish example I can think of off the top of my head, that distinctly shows this, is the color theory book. Mainly because he sort of kind of drops the facade for a split second there. Without proper context to his deal, it's just a funny moment. But, reflecting after the fact, it's more of an '...OH!' moment, since he seems to have been kinda upset about not knowing about colors (even if he's hamming it up a little bit, saying he's 'failed them all' for not knowing what colors were.) And that's not even going into his emotional intelligence either.

But, delving into his FQ the full picture is shown. That he wasn't always this big boisterous guy. He used to be the nerdiest kid around, incredibly shy, and because of that he didn't like himself much. But then he Changed and is much happier now, compared to back then! Even after his Change though, he's unhappy with some aspects of himself. He doesn’t like being considered dumb because of his act. And, even after Changing, that kid from before is still there, right? As much as he continues to project this air of cool confidence, he can never truly be rid of that part of his old self, can he? The one always paralyzed by fear.

With that, comes the quote pick! Since, to me, he's not necessarily talking to just Siffrin here, but also to himself. Because it all boils down to his own self-hatred, I think? He himself does mention this in the A5 version of this FQ, albeit kinda heat of the moment, that he "...keeps changing personalities like clothes, because it's easier than learning to like myself." He's still a work in progress in that regard. But even still, he is trying to be better, for the people he cares about.

[Small aside, that too can maybe stem from his own self-loathing? Putting the people he cares about first. I mean, he is the one who told Sif to focus on the others first. And even after that, he was putting focus onto Sif at first during his FQ (as in, talking about how he thought Sif would like seeing the stars, only letting the convo slide into focus unto himself after Sif made an obvious topic change.) The quote also kind of reads as an ask of reassurance, in a sense? That him Changing again would allow himself to be someone that people would like, even if he himself doesn't like himself. Idk where I was going with this tbh, but I think it makes sense to keep its inclusion here!]

Overall, I just think it's interesting to revisit Isa's previous dialogues with the context of the FQ!! Especially when thinking on the underlying reasons as to why the way he's acting the way he is, even while seeing signs from the start that he isn't the airhead he was masquerading as.

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Odile

"I'm Ka Buan and Vauguardian, in ways I do and don't realize... And I am also myself."

The Researcher, Odile! I think I’m just gonna jump right into it without a semblance of an intro since I know it’s going to be a lil less focused. Mainly because I know for a fact I will not be able to articulate this ramble that well, so here we go.

As the oldest party member, it makes sense that she's much further along in her own character development / self-discovery journey in comparison to the others (at least in relation to her FQ centered struggle on finding out more about herself in relation to her heritage), and I think her FQ, in itself, helps portray that. Compared to Mira and Isa, who are still in the midst of their own personal journey on how to address their turmoil and putting it to action, Bonnie, who is the youngest of the group and is learning how to tackle their issues to begin with, and Siffrin who is going through All That™; Odile has come to a conclusion about her own woes, where the others have not. 

That’s part of the reason why I went with the quote pick actually! In a sense, it’s a display of self-assuredness in herself that can really only be gained with time and experience. She’s also able to explain her feelings on her heritage eloquently as well, and the convo prior to the quote helps express them too! It’s the recognition that yes, her mixed heritage helped shape who she is as a person in ways she may or may not realize, that it’s not the only factor at play here in regard to her identity. It’s the fact that, at the end of the day, what matters most is that she is herself, yanno?

Even with her self-assuredness towards herself, it’s also interesting to me how that contrasts her closed-offness to the others, especially in outright saying/showing that she cares? Which also probably also stems from her mother, someone who was supposed to love and care for her, leaving without a trace early on in life. It makes sense to me that she would have reluctance in showing that she cares for the others!! What if she ends up hurting others similarly to how her mother hurt her?  Of course, she wouldn’t want to do that to the others, and is distinctly also why she does NOT want to be called a Mom. 

[Tangent that doesn’t relate as much to the quote, but I want to touch upon anyway since it’s FQ related. I also want to point out that the FQ helps inform us why Odile is more willing to question things around her / be more sus? When her mother left, she left nothing behind, and with it, any links to her Vauguardian roots. This left her with a complete loss of that connection, one that was stolen from her and, with that, the feeling like she didn’t belong anywhere as a result. This led her to be curious enough to seek out a resolution to that feeling, lending more into her inquisitiveness on just about anything. How else would she be able to learn more about Vauguarde, without asking questions, after all!]

All in all, for Odile it’s a bit harder for me to elaborate on why I like her? I dunno, I think it’s just hard to sum it all up as eloquently as she probably could LOL. 

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Bonnie

"So you can protect me, and I can protect you... And we can protect everyone, too!"

Bonnie!! TBH I had a toss-up on what specific quote the drawing would be based around. The other one being “You got hurt because of me and— And I don’t like it!!! I don’t want it to have happened! You should have stood there and let me be hurt!” . Because of the toss up both quotes will be discussed somewhat, since they go hand in hand with the ramble!

[To note, the toss-up was decided by putting it on a poll to my friends, as a simple “choose !” with the options being “joyful” or “angsty” with ZERO context. I told them after what the poll was for (basically if Bonnie would be crying or not in the drawing) and I got threatened for that one HAHA.]

But, to start, Bonnie has had, not once, but twice, people sacrificing themselves in some way for them (Nille telling them to run and getting frozen, Siffrin losing his eye.) Makes sense, because they're a kid, so of course those who are older need to protect them. Still, they are not happy about this, about people getting hurt because of them, and understandably so! It probably doesn't feel good to have your loved ones putting themselves in harm's way for your sake. But what can they do, right? They're a kid and don't really get a say on the matter. I mean, what else can they do? It makes sense to me that Bonnie is frustrated about that part!! It can be frustrating to have everyone discuss things around you, have everyone do things that you don't want them to, and (unintentionally or not), ignoring your input as a person because you are so young.

Kids are smarter than you think. Even if they may not have a full understanding of what's going on, they can certainly follow along and get the gist. Like, for example, Bonnie always listens in on the burial conversation during the second snack break (first found out either during a FQ run or in Memory of Promise). They even pretend not to hear whatever Siffrin says to make everyone think that they aren't listening in! They also seem to hone in completely to the conversation the second Isabeau says that it doesn't matter what happens to him after he dies, since they stop prepping at that point. Even worse, everyone starts discussing how they won't let Bonnie be killed. Which, if it comes to fruition, would be the third instance of people getting hurt because of them, and would be another thing they get zero say in! And everyone thinks they aren't listening in on it, meaning they were being discussed around. Plus, in Memory of Promise, while they don't have the words to articulate why everyone talking about their deaths is so upsetting to them, this context spells out the picture of them not wanting people to be hurt because of them, time and time again.

So when they get a proper opportunity to have a say on something, their promise with Siffrin on protecting one another, to protect everyone too? It makes the exchange all the sweeter to me! It's the first time, in probably a long time, Bonnie has had proper input on something from someone older than them on an important decision. For once, they get to stand on a more equal footing to an adult, rather than being treated as a kid who doesn't know what's going on. And, it probably means more to Bonnie than Siffrin realizes.

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There’s probably a lot more of examples/subtopics I am forgetting to add onto all of these but. Please forgive me, but a good chunk of this was written while I was travelling or in one sitting on my singular day off after travel ASDAFSA. I might genuinely be forgetting something I wanted to talk about, esp since I couldn't double check stuff easily. I've been going off a combination of memory and downloaded friend ISAT streams LMAOOO.

Feel free to correct me on stuff I possibly? Completely misconstrued as well?? Since that is entirely possible in happening! Or further add onto thoughts! In short feel free to extend the discussion on any of this! But yeah, wrangling (some) of my thoughts on why I like them has been fun :D

And to those of you who read all of this to the end, thank you for reading my ramblings!! And if you're skipping to the end, FAIR ENOUGH LMAO!!

Regardless though, I'll end this off with a fun lil fun fact about this post! If I scheduled this properly, it should be going up at 11:11... somewhere! I thought it'd be a fun easter egg to myself. Mainly bc I remember people always used to say "11:11, make a wish!" a lot when I was school whenever the clock struck that time. I just thought it'd be fitting to queue this up for that time is all :]

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Happy Anniversary In Stars and Time!! Have some Friend Quest based drawings :D

(These have specific quote picks related to them! And there's also a long ramble on why I like those specific quotes below if interested)

(And by long, I mean roughly 2k+ words of proper ramble total, so be warned before clicking keep reading this link right here to the rb!!)

[adhbabey]

here's some autism traits of mine that aren't symptoms, but they're things that are autism and im choosing to unmask n share this with you all.

biting. just i want bite fingers. i crave to put them in my mouth. i want to bite in general. i know its not socially acceptable to bite people, but i want to. i am a creacher and i cannote change that.

when i was like 14 i was really obsessed with random xd humor. I would say "ekop" instead of "poke", because its poke backwards. And I had this one friend I'd constantly do this with. like "rawr" and "cupcakez!1!1!". We were truly scene.

Speaking incredibly eloquently, as one alter put it, "Human language does not account for all the nuances that I wish to share, so I am using the language to its full extent, detailing every complicated sentence that I can muster. I wish to share my full thoughts and experiences, but it unfortunately does not do what I want to convey in justice. So I must settle for the english language for now." Some of our alters can't really speak because of that, and its difficult for them to communicate outside of visuals and vague feelings. It's really either hyperverbal or no verbality for us.

every fucking alter being some brand of autism. Tsuki is ace and hates to put a label on things, the only concrete feeling she has is anger. Rai can barely speak/communicate, they are very observant and quiet, and they feel the most disconnected from others being the host. Kaori is literally the most autistic creature you could ever come across, they are just literally what you think of, they love all the "cringe" culture type stuff and adore being nonbinary. etc etc. Like, how did I not realize when all of us are some brand of autism?

Feeling like an outsider my entire fucking life. Even when I related to others, I always felt separate from the rest of society, and I must sacrifice everything in order to be loved. This has been connected to spiritual beliefs of mine.

Another thing connected to spiritual beliefs of mine, feeling like I truly cannot see the world, as if I have a film over my eyes. The reason for my self entrapment is a "curse" that a "film" over my eyes exists and I never fully can break free from. I realize that the "film" is masking and my truly unique way of seeing the world is my autism, and I've had to move through the world not letting myself "see" truly.

alice in wonderland, coraline, fran bow, all characters I relate to are young and unique girls that move through a world that is crazy and full of madness. Something I find myself deeply relating to.

feeling misunderstood all the fucking time. even if i try to explain my feelings or thoughts, I'm constantly put on a high standard that I have not been able to achieve. I don't know how to change people's minds as I speak with genuine intent besides rather obvious displays of frustration, anger or sarcasm. I was also the person who thought others were always genuine, and rarely questioned one's intention behind what they said. This trait of mine has led me to become gaslit by a few harmful people in my life.

my disorders all linked together, makes for a bad time. this isnt an autism specific trait. i just. if i feel like an outsider (asd), and have trauma with being treated like an outsider (did), and get really upset with other people saying nasty things about me in regards to not being normal (adhd + rsd), im going to have a hard time and constantly blame myself for being an outsider (ocd) and im gonna hate myself (depression). so its just like. hey i found a piece to the puzzle, but i already know most of it. and thats just the egodystonic experience for me.

but hey, lets talk about more lighthearted stuff!! i love kandi!!!!! it jingle jingle and it has super pretty colours!! im afraid to stim but this is the shit for me. this is amazing.

i'd love to use word quirks and kaomojis a lot more!!! but unfortunately thats not the blog for this bc its not plaintext. but in my heart, thats what i want to do and who i want to be.

oh i remember the last one!! I read this somewhere, but apparently since a lot of autistic people struggle to communicate their needs, they'll do things that meet their needs somewhat, even if they don't know why they do it. For example, wearing hoodies and heavy clothes because they're touch starved and want to be hugged! And I really related to that!! I wear hoodies and lots of layers all the time, or like just wearing my day clothes, even if they're uncomfortable. So, I do that, not just because I'm cold, but I need the weight compressing me, and i've always been doing that since I was young. So I felt.

Not really being able to read big books until middle school. I know there's people who havent really talked until they were older, I remember not being able to comprehend big swaths of text until I was a teenager. maybe thats the audhd, but i feel like thats always been my sort of "i think this was my developmental milestones that i hit late". And yes, I was able to read quite a lot for my age, but it always felt like something that I hit late.

share your autism traits that aren't necessarily symptoms, or you can talk about the ones you relate to and I wrote. Sorry if this post is hard to read, I just wanted to talk about it. :0 so ya

[anna-scribbles]

h-how do you ever finish any of your work? genuine question because you seem to be productive despite your agreste syndrome and I need to learn your ways. but also how do you ever finish any of your work

unclear. last night i stayed up and finished a report worth 25% of my grade at about 5am, arrived on time for my 9am lecture, and spent about half of it zoned out while thinking about seventeen year old emilie agreste. and i was one of the most active participants in the class discussion

[outlying-hyppocrate]

in line to the bathroom just to cry!!

[noxtivagus]

hmmm. oh my god my mind is a mess i rlly can't write what i want to rn but i will just Dump

[blueseakelp]

i know dreams aren’t real, but how am i supposed to come back from the way people are in them?

[mellowwillowy]

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝

Yan! Sugar Daddy who fell in love with you at first sight in the cafe he often visited for his daily to-go coffee. He had seen lots of beauties but you were the first to catch his breath.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who tried to woo you, he tried his best to not scare you and subtly flirt with you. It took him a huge courage to approach you and ask for your number.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who found out you were still just a college student who was most likely to be struggling with financial issues, or so he assumed from how most of the students there were.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who took his time bonding with you before subtly offering an arrangement with you, a mutual arrangement of a sugar relationship. Instead of sex, fancy dates, or a plus one to those higher-ups events, he wanted your company all the time if he could.

You were wary and hesitant but his silver-tongued nature convinced you that this would change your life for the better.

While you were inexperienced in most of it, Yulian made sure to make you feel comfortable about it and him. The weekly allowance and PPM were enough to make you never lift a single finger to work anymore.

The more you spent time with him, the less it felt like an arrangement. It felt like a man treating you with utmost respect while spoiling you with luxuries you would never imagine to have.

But with such great benefits came a great price. You noticed that you had been seeing your friends less because of the attention you had on him.

You noticed the higher-ups never stopped sneering at you for being a commoner or his pet whenever you attended the fancy events with him as his plus one.

You noticed how you had almost less to none freedom, always heavily guarded by what seemed to be his bodyguards. Who was he and why did you even need this sort of protection?

One day you decided to trick his bodyguards with your flat-out white lies so that they'd leave you alone. They did not expect someone like you to ever lie and put them at risk so they left you alone.

All you did was wander around in awe, checking the grand balcony to go to the washroom as normal people would.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who was seething in rage when the bodyguards came to him, tricked by your childish lie. But there was no way something bad would happen with this slight mistake right? You were not his spouse by any means.

But oh did everyone know you were someone he fancied for the first time in his whole life. Part of his brain just tried to look at this mistake in a bright light and it backfired.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who had to be endlessly teased by his great-for-nothing cartel friend. He had to endure the stress of losing you and the risk of not being able to take you back.

It's not like the Drug Lord couldn't help him, it was simply humiliating for him to endanger you by not keeping a close eye on you.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who could track you down in less than a week and ordered a mass slaughter on the faction that imprisoned you. You were not wounded terribly but a wound was still a wound.

Yan! Sugar Daddy was just a confidant to the Drug Lord and an infamous lawyer. You only knew he was a lawyer but never the lurking threat of his other occupation. No wonder he was always wary of his surroundings.

How could someone from such a cold underground world have the heart to fall in love with you? That was what you thought when you woke up to his concerned face.

Weeks passed and it didn't take him so long to propose to you, for you to become his spouse.

"I truly love you, dear. I have never even once seen our arrangement as something strictly business instead." He showed you a velvety box with a diamond ring in it. "I admit, it was not the best approach but I thought I could work my way into your heart while profiting you with all the benefits and luxuries you could have from me."

He swallowed the lump in his throat, "I wanted you to see how capable I am."

Something told you that nothing good would come out of your refusal. And instead, logic swarm into your brain. You had been in an arrangement with him for almost a year already and had never even once felt any hardships.

He was nice to you, downright kind and loving even. He cared for you deeply and wouldn't hurt you in any way. It was your fault that you broke free from the barrier of protection he granted you.

With great fame and luxuries, came all sorts of threats. He wasn't disloyal like those higher-ups. He didn't belittle you like others would. He loved you.

Even if you didn't love him, you knew how great it felt to be loved by him. There was not a single loss from this arrangement which was a marriage, right?

[writtenapoiogy]

longfully awaited; jacaerys velaryon

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x f!reader

summary: sequel to patience running thin. the wedding night.

word count: 2.2k

warnings: nsfw, 18+, smut, MINORS DNI, SWEET MARRIED JACEXREADER, nerves, oral (f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling (who wouldn't when his hair is that beautiful), some dirty talk, high valyrian used and i think that's it

a/n: the much anticipated sequel i am so sorry for the wait. i really hope everyone enjoys this!! (barely proofread i will go through it after work tomorrowww)

READ PART ONE HERE

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that night.” You whispered to your now husband.

Your wedding ceremony had taken place at Aegon’s Garden at Dragonstone. It was just your parents and the Queen and Jacaerys’ little siblings. The day was full of love and there wasn’t one dark cloud in the sky. Your mother believed it to be a good omen for your future marriage.

The two of you were now at your wedding feast and you couldn’t help but think of the duties to take place once the two of you leave. You spoke to Rhaenyra before the wedding discussing your discomfort with the normal bedding ceremony. She immediately made sure nothing of the sort would take place.

Jacaerys smirked before responding into your ear. “Just a little bit longer, my sweet.” He grabbed your hand and rested them in your lap.

The two of you endured about another fifteen more drunk congratulations that had come your way before Jace rose and announced your departure to everyone. You stood joining him and bid farewell to all of your guests, bowing at your queen.

Jacaerys held your hand firmly as he guided you down the corridor to your newly shared bedchamber. You both were riddled with excitement. You two would finally be one together.

When you arrived Jace pressed you against the door, eager to feel you against him. He placed his lips upon yours in a fiery kiss.

The air in your lungs left you, making you dizzy.

Jacaerys was an all-consuming heat. His lips were hot almost searing. Your hands were tracing all over his clothed chest. You wanted to feel his warmth against you. You let out a moan against his lips. At that Jace moved his hand towards the door handle and the two of you stumbled in.

Jacaerys hands were gripping the back of your dress. “You do not know how long I have wanted this. How bad I have needed this.”

“I could probably take a guess, Husband.” You lifted your head up and smiled at him, getting just a tad bit closer to him. Close enough for him to smell your intoxicating scent.

He placed his hands on your cheeks, dropping his head down, reconnecting your lips. He deepened your kiss. You parted your lips allowing his tongue to slip in and glide across yours. He moved his hands to the back of your dress. He was desperately trying to remove the article of clothing that was keeping your full beauty away from him.

Jace began to tug your corset strings free. Being as impatient as he is, he tore open the back of your dress.

You gasped against his open mouth. Your dress slid past your shoulders and fell, pooling at the bottom of your feet. You felt goosebumps litter your body when a particularly cold breeze flew through your window.

Jace’s eyes fell down to your now hardened buds. He couldn’t help but reach his hand out, letting his thumb graze the side before his hand slid down your waist. “Mmm. They are perfect. You are perfect.” Jacaerys took in your bare beauty. He could not believe himself to be so lucky to be wed to you.

You could melt at his words. His voice like silk. “You are wearing too much clothing, Husband.” Your hands scrambled to undress his top half. Jacaerys groaned at the term Husband. He never thought hearing you say that would make ignite the way it did. His hand shuffled down to rid himself of his pants.

Your eyes slowly glazed over his body. Taking in everything about him. The cut of his abs. Then they landed upon his cock. You had spoken to your mother about the whole… marital act. However, you weren’t quite sure how this wouldn’t cause you pain, you blanched at the thought.

Jacaerys took note of your expression. He pulled you closer to him so that all the two of you could see were each other’s faces. No need to stress over the act. “My love. You do not need to worry. I will take care of you.” He placed a kiss on your soft swollen lips.

“B-but, I do no-,” You stammered.

“Do you trust me?” His eyes stared into yours with such intensity. All you could do was swallow your words and nod. He kissed you again, “Good.”

You both stepped outside of the pile of clothes that were now surrounding you on the floor. Jacaerys guided you to the side of the bed. You both climbed in with Jacaerys hovering over you. He placed soft kisses all over your face. He bent his head down towards your ear and whispered to you how beautiful you are. His words and actions made your heart flutter and that familiar burn in your stomach start to churn.

“I wish to learn all about your body. Wish to touch you. All of you. Every square inch of your body.” He began to pepper kisses all along you. Down your neck. Across your chest, leaving fleeting kisses on your nipples, causing you to arch your back against him.

You ran your fingers through his hair, lifting his head slightly. “We have our whole lives for that Jacaerys. Please. I need you. I have needed you for so long.”

“Very well, My wife.” He kissed your forehead before he moved down, coming to a halt right in front of your heat. “However you can not deny me this.”

Jace’s face was burrowed into your cunt in seconds. You gasped as he tested the waters. He was licking and sucking every part of your cunt, listening to your responses. He licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit that had you shuddering. Jacaerys had a skillful tongue. Whether that be negotiating with vassals or in the martial bed.

You ran your fingers through his curls and gripped with all your might. “Jacaerys,” You moaned.

At the sound of your pleasure, he slipped a finger inside of your warmth. He groaned against your clit feeling your tightness. It made his dick twitch, but he ignored it. His focus was on you right now. Making sure you were comfortable and ready for him.

Jace continued to pump his finger into you. He didn’t add another finger till your juices were dripping down his palm. He hummed against your clit as he coaxed sweet moans out of you with his fingers. They were rubbing against the inside of your walls so nicely.

You felt yourself reaching dangerously close to your peak. You started to grind your core against Jacaerys tongue. He stilled himself allowing you to use him to reach your climax. Your face was contorted struggling to come.

Jacaerys, whose eyes were staring at you observing your face closely, closed his mouth over your clit and began to suck. As you continued to fuck yourself on his fingers, you felt your orgasm run through your body in a hot wave of pleasure that covered your whole body.

After your climax, your hips continued to grind down onto his fingers. They were still inside you, stretching you to perfection for him. He knew you needed him. He could feel how needy you were for him. Once wasn’t enough and it never would be for you. You could see yourself being victim to his pleasure for as long as you both shall please.

“That was so good my love,” Jacaerys said as he went to hover over you. His fingers never left your heat pumping into you slowly. Your juices from your orgasm created a squelching sound, which embarrassed you just a bit.

You turned your head from him as he entered your space. The scent of your arousal was strong on his face.

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed. This is something so beautiful. You do not have to shy away from it, my wife. We are doing our marital duty.” He laid his lips upon yours in a hot wet kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue and lips. Jacaerys kissed down the side of your cheek to your neck. He sucked on the patch of skin right below your ear.

Your legs spread even wider for him. Accepting him in between your thighs. He regrettably removed his fingers from your sopping cunt. The both of you gasped when he leaned forward, his cock slid through your folds, the tip swiping your clit.

“Fuck,” Jacaerys rasped in your ear. He knew after feeling your slick heat against his cock that he was ruined. Laying with you was going to knock his world off its axis. “Do you feel ready to take me, my sweet?”

Your mother had informed you how horseback riding helps breakdown the barrier within you which should help ease the pain. But the uncertainty still ran through your body making you tense. “As ready as I believe I can be.”

Jace kissed the side of your ear. “Just relax. I got you.” He whispered.

His sweet words melt into your bed. You two were skin-to-skin. Completely bare. Jacaerys lined himself up to your entrance. He then moved his hand from around himself to rub his thumb along the side of your stomach, trying to calm you from the intrusion. He lifted himself on his unoccupied arm. He wanted to stare into your eyes as he entered you for the first time.

Jacaerys mouth fell agape when the tip of his cock finally breached through your entrance. Thanks to Your Husband, he slid into you with almost no resistance. Your warm wet walls inviting him in. “Fuck, ao issi vok.” You are perfect.

“Oh, gods.” You mewled once you felt him in you completely.

“Look at me, My Wife.”

Your eyes met his but only for a short second. He began to thrust into you and you squeezed your eyes shut. The stretch of his hard cock was a bit much. All of your other senses were drowned out by the overwhelming feeling of lust and pleasure. All you could feel was the push and pull of him inside of you.

“You feel so good.” He helped ease you around his cock before he spoke again. “Please try, my love. Look me in the eyes while I fuck you”

Your eyes shot open at his words. He dropped his forehead to yours and kept a slow pace. Little whimpers and whines left your mouth. Your eyebrows furrowed at the pleasure you were now receiving. Your eyes never left the princes usually hazel eyes. Which were now filled with lust.

“That’s my girl.” He felt you clamp down around him and he let out an unkingly sound. He knew you were close. Your heat was pulling him deeper inside of you. You were getting wetter with each thrust.

“Jacaerys.” You warned

“Oh, I love the way you moan my name. Fuck, I’m not going to last much longer.” Jace removed his head from yours and nestled it into your neck. You two were emitting such a lovely scent. It pleased his nose and made his body feel like molten lava. It made him want to ravish you and spill his seed inside of you.

He moved his hips to a slight angle so that every time he entered you, he hit that sweet spot deep within your heat.

“Jace! Fuck. Right there.” Your hands were everywhere on him. Scratching down his back. Running your fingers through his beautiful brown locs.

“Nyke gīmigon. Fuck, nyke gīmigon.” He growled against your neck in High Valyrian. I know. Fuck, I know.

Jace needed you to come before him. He was feeling so much pleasure. His hand never would compare to this. If he came before you he might faint before you get the chance to finish. He brought one hand down to rub your sensitive bud at the same time he began to suck the flesh of your neck.

“Jacaerys! Oh, Gods!” You screamed into your hot chambers. You were overcome with pleasure. You began to tremble under your husband.

Jacaerys was quick to follow behind you. Spilling his seed with one last hard thrust. “Fuck.”

Jace waited till you both came down from your highs to pull his limp cock out of you. You winced and he hissed at the feeling. Jacaerys got out of bed and brought a cloth to clean the both of you. Once he had finished and kissed you everywhere he could reach and he got you both under the covers.

You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He laid there running his hand up and down your arm. “I could lay like this forever, with you by my side.”

“I could not ask for a better side to be mushed upon, My Future King.” You beamed at your husband.

Jacaerys chucked. “I love you, My Future Queen.”

“Avy jorrāelan tolī, Valzȳrys.” I love you more, Husband.

Jace’s eyes widened. That was the first time you had ever spoken High Valyrian. You sounded lovely. He looked at you as if you had just mounted a Dragon. Bewildered and all the more in love.

“I have been practicing with Your Mother. She wishes for me to learn your language just as much as you do. She is a wonderful teacher.” You spoke kindly about your new mother-in-law.

He couldn’t think of anything else but to kiss you before sleep took the both of you.

[mrs-weasley-reid]

TRICKY BLUNDER

Spencer Reid x exbau!reader ↳ part 1 here

Synopsis: Mistakes always reveal what the heart really craves. And Spencer wasn't an exception as he desperately makes things right with you. Word Count: almost 4k WARNING: a sprinkle of angst and a cup of fluff. a few curse words. A/N: had two drafts, but this made the most sense in my head. not my gif ctto :)

You gave Spencer a curt nod, "Hey."

Spencer's chest tinged at the sight of your smile. The kind of smile that gave him the impression that you two were absolutely fine and back to normal.

Hotch invited you to assist on the case that's been keeping the entire BAU team stressed out for the past three days. He thought you'd be a great help in increasing the team's morale and, of course, on the case.

Spencer took your arrival as a good sign. It has only been a month since you left the BAU. Maybe you'd change your mind and come back to the team. Besides, you wouldn't have joined them if you were still mad at him, right?

He thought he was getting ahead of himself. He knew he was getting ahead of himself. Taking the tiniest detail of your simple nod and civil smile into a desperate hope.

Your last exchange has been eating Spencer alive. The fallout repeatedly played out inside his head over and over in hopes that he could change the ending. He couldn't. Even an average person knew that they could never change what's been done.

You, on the other hand, did not dwell on your interaction with Spencer. In fact, as soon as you gave him some sort of acknowledgment, you immediately jumped in on a conversation with Emily. You were only being polite. It was in your nature.

If you were given the chance to boast, you would've said Hotch was almost begging you to help with the case. But you kept the idea to yourself and arrived with fresh sets of eyes. After all, the case specifically needed your specialty: human trafficking and victimology.

And fresh sets of eyes, you did bring.

While the others were occupied giving you a warm welcome, an arm suddenly wrapped around your shoulders, taking everyone by surprise, Spencer the most.

"I barely found parking," A man said to you in almost a whisper but loud enough for everyone to hear and gawk about.

Your eyebrows narrowed, "You're an FBI agent. How hard could it be to show your badge and get a spot?" You queried, forgetting about an entire team right in front of you.

The man grinned, "I wanted to prove I could find a spot without my toy." He spoke with you with such ease, as if you've known each other for years.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. If you only weren't in public, you would've smacked your forehead from the utter disbelief you felt. That's when you remembered that it wasn't just the two of you.

"Oh, shoot! I mean…" You gestured at the man next to you, "Guys, meet Agent Ezekiel." You went on to briefly explain that you offered Hotch another pair of hands to help with the case, thus the agent's appearance.

Although you were clear about Ezekiel's purpose, everyone couldn't help but take note of his arm around you. The only man they saw wrap their arm around your shoulders was Emily during an undercover operation, where she pretended to be a guy.

Spencer was not a fan.

"And Zeke, meet the behavioral analysis unit. Agents Hotchner, Rossi, Jareau, Prentiss, Morgan, and… Dr. Reid." You introduced them accordingly, paying attention to each one of the agents.

"Mr. Genius! Nice to finally meet you! I've heard so much about you." Ezekiel exclaimed, stretching a hand out to Spencer.

Spencer stared at the hand in front of him, "Clearly not enough." He lifted his hands out of his back pockets only to transfer them to the front pockets. "And it's Dr. Reid."

He couldn't help but shift his focus between you and the obnoxious arm on your shoulders. He wasn't exactly certain why he was feeling that way. He guessed it had something to do with the fact that he didn't get the chance to speak with you.

Ezekiel looked at his hand and retracted it with a shrug. He leaned against you, "You said he was fun." His face was of pure confusion.

You lightly shoved his face away from you, removing his arm on your shoulders in the process. "I promise, he's more helpful than he looks." You had the mistake of looking at Spencer as you spoke with a playful smile, immediately diverting your gaze to anyone else but him.

The reflexive habit was still present. You always had a knack for aiming for Spencer's approval of your humor. After years of trying to make him laugh in spite of feeling depressed about Maeve, adjusting your humor to align with his became second nature.

Spencer found himself smiling a bit at the millisecond of attention you gave him. He missed it. He missed you.

If the universe was giving him a sign, you standing in front of him was one big slap of a sign. This was his chance to make things right with you.

He'd do anything to make it up to you.

His first attempt was to join any conversation you had with anyone on the team. He tried. He really tried to get your attention, but somehow, before he could even breathe a word out, Ezekiel pops out of nowhere and takes up all your attention.

"Why can't you do it yourself?" You groaned yet stood up from your seat. Spencer wished you didn't.

Ezekiel ruffled your hair, "Less complaining, more doing. You lost the bet, remember?" He laughed, leaning against his seat.

Derek swore he saw Spencer's eye twitch inside out after seeing Ezekiel ruffle your hair.

You stomped out of the conference room, mumbling, "Stupid bet," under your throat.

"You would've beaten Morgan up if he asked you the same thing."

You jumped out of shock, spilling a bit of the hot water on the counter. Spencer followed you out, standing awkwardly next to you. You silently wiped the water off the counter and quickly stirred the cup.

With one last tap of the spoon on the edge of the cup, you turned to Spencer, "Just be glad it wasn't you." You deadpanned, walking away without giving him the chance to say a word.

First attempt: failed.

You clearly weren't in the mood to speak with him, especially when you hadn't gotten your usual coffee. You hated precinct coffee to the bone. Thus, you tortured yourself from lack of caffeine and exhaustion.

This sparked Spencer's second attempt to gain your friendship back: offer you coffee. Your coffee order has been in the back of his mind for the past month. It turns out he liked your odd coffee concoction after finding himself with two cups of coffee every morning the first two weeks you were gone.

The first two days were purely out of habit. The rest were out of the delusion that you'd be sitting on your old desk when he gets in the office.

So, he could only imagine the dejection when you arrived the next morning with an unfamiliar coffee order and bright laughter as you told Ezekiel how his coffee order had changed your life for the better.

Spencer constantly expressed his disapproval. Of course, you weren't happy about it. What was worse was you didn't know why. And worse than that, he couldn't figure out why.

Or so he thought.

As soon as he found an opening, Spencer pulled you into the side. He brought the two of you into an empty interrogation room.

"What are you doing?" You snatched your arm from his grip. You weren't stupid. You noticed Spencer's fixation for your attention. You did your best to be civil, but he was making it very difficult for you.

"You've barely been in the ViCAP unit, and you're already smitten with your superior. I think it's safe to say it does not look good on you. You don't even know whether he's a decent guy." Spencer gulped. He knew exactly how stupid he sounded.

You blinked loudly and chuckled, "So?"

Spencer straightened his back and averted his eyes away from yours, "So… I suggest you…" He trailed off. He didn't plan this far. He should've planned farther than this. It wasn't exactly very clever of him, and your glare made him dumb.

"Suggest me what?" You crossed your arms on your chest. When Spencer didn't speak for fifteen seconds, you continued, "You have no right to tell me what looks good for me. Or anything about me. You made that pretty clear, Reid. Stick with it."

You purposely bumped into his shoulder on your way out, leaving him dumbfounded and dry-mouthed.

His chest felt tight as if a hand was clenching it into the tiniest crumple of paper. He closed his eyes in agony as he whispered, "Damn it," running his fingers through his hair.

With the 187 IQ he's been bragging about, he couldn't imagine his own disappointment when he failed to realize his feelings for you.

You have been nothing but kind to him. When he was grieving, you were the only one he wanted to confide in. You were the only one who could make him smile. The only one who could make him laugh with an average humor. The one that made painful things less miserable.

And without him knowing, he fell for your kind smiles and warm company.

He became addicted to you.

Spencer did his best to avoid it, but he couldn't help himself. How could someone not fall for someone amazing like you? Clearly not him.

Your friendship felt more important to him, though. It always was. It was too important that he spent his time finding a fix for his infatuation. Shoving his growing feelings for you as if it were a crime.

But you just couldn't let him not fall for you. You didn't even try. You were just you, and he was just one of your willing victims. It was inevitable.

The deeper he fell for you, the more he wanted not to.

He was a weakling, a stupid coward, and irrevocably in love with you.

So, was he disappointed that you fell for the genius prodigy? Or was he disappointed that he never realized how deep he'd fallen for you until you left?

The next day was Spencer's worst nightmare.

You were at gunpoint.

Close and yet so far.

"Come any closer, and I'll shoot her!" The unsub shouted, holding you by the neck with his arm wrapped around it.

Spencer felt his hands clammy. You were too close to the unsub for him to find an opening. Backup was still a few minutes away. He didn't know what to do.

He took a deep breath, "No one needs to get hurt. Just let her go, and we can talk this out." He kept his gun pointed at the unsub.

He made sure you knew that. He never wanted you to think that he'd ever point a gun at you, even if you weren't already.

The unsub's grip tightened around your neck, and you could barely manage to let out a gasp. Tears began to spill from your eyes as air dissipated from your lungs. Your consciousness was hanging by a thread.

"Shut the hell up!" The unsub shifted the tip of his gun towards Spencer. He glanced at you and at Spencer's pleading face. He laughed, "If you let me go, I'll make sure someone rich buys her. You don't have to worry. I'll make sure they treat her well."

"Don't!" You choked, "Don't listen to him, Spence!" You were stammering, almost unable to form words.

Hearing you call him by his first name for the first time in a while gave Spencer a concussion. A string of déjà vu coursed through his body. Spencer was more terrified than he already was. He couldn't lose you again. He couldn't go through it again.

You could see it in his eyes. You knew that look from miles away. You've seen the same look etched in the deepest vault in your mind. The only thing was, you never imagined that you'd ever be the reason for it.

And just as you always have… you chose him.

You focused on his brown eyes. You took a deep breath and met Spencer's gaze, "Take the blunder."

His eyes widened. He felt his heart quicken. Spencer vigorously shook his head, tightening his grip on his gun.

After spending time together in his gloomy apartment, you and Spencer found enjoyment in playing chess. A few phrases stuck to heart, inside jokes that filled both of you with mindless giggles.

What used to be a funny term turned into something Spencer feared the most at that moment.

You were asking him to shoot you.

"No! I won't do that!" Spencer shouted, shaking his head to the point of dizziness. There must be another way. He needed to find another way to save you.

"What the fuck are you two talking about?!" The unsub pointed the gun back at your temple. This time, he made sure you felt the cold metal on your skin.

Both you and Spencer knew that the unsub was too far gone to be reasonable. Your plan was the only plan that'd work. He had to shoot you and let the bullet through to hit the unsub down. Of course, it wasn't a perfect one.

But it'd save many lives and his, and you were content with that idea alone. Except Spencer wasn't.

You closed your eyes, "Spencer, do it!" You begged, suffocating. "Take the fucking blunder! Now!"

Spencer didn't notice his watery eyes, fixing his vision solely on you. His hands were shaking. His body was ice cold. He could hear you and your fading breath. He aimed his gun at your shoulder, steadying his stance.

A bright flash and two loud strikes prompted you and the unsub to fall to the floor.

Hotch came into view across Spencer, pointing his gun to where the unsub used to chokehold you.

Spencer flew to your side, taking you in his arms as sobs spilled out of his lips. "No, no, no, no. Not again, no. Please, no." He brushed the hair off your face, holding your cheek.

A chuckle curved the ends of your lips, "You're a horrible shot." Your eyes were still closed as you felt a small sting on your shoulder grow as it bled out.

His breath hitched. Spencer chuckled a cry as he pulled you into a hug. It was so tight and yet gentle enough to let you catch your breath. "I thought I was going to lose you," He whispered. You never thought Spencer would ever hug you tighter than he already was. "I didn't— I don't want to lose you."

Soon, Spencer had to let you go as the paramedics came to your aid. They dragged you out where everyone waited in anticipation.

Ezekiel was the first to run to you, "You alright?" He replaced Spencer's spot on your side.

"I'll live," you shrugged, regretting it immediately as you felt a painful shock travel from your shoulder. You cursed under your breath.

"Stop moving, dumbass." Ezekiel scolded, turning to the paramedics and asking them if there was any way he could help.

Spencer felt empty at the sight. His heart shattered at the sight of someone else taking care of you. But compared to Ezekiel, he had no chance. And it broke Spencer even more.

But that didn't mean he couldn't try to befriend you.

So he chose friendship. He always did, after all.

He visited you the next morning, the first one to arrive as soon as visiting hours began.

"Hey," Spencer flashed a thin smile.

You placed the book you were reading down on your lap, returning his smile, "Hey."

This time, Spencer knew you weren't just being polite. It made his heart swell from relief. He still had a chance to make things right.

He walked inside the room, placing a small bouquet of white daisies on the bedside table. Spencer pointed at your book, "I have a book just like that." He started, attempting to make casual conversation.

"It's actually yours," You flipped the pages, revealing thousands of annotations. You only knew one person who did that. "It was my favorite. I couldn't let it go…" You gently wiped the cover.

George Orwell's 1984 novel was the first book Spencer ever lent you. As you packed your stuff from your old desk, you couldn't help but pick up one book to keep.

Spencer looked around, "Where's Agent Ezekiel?" He wondered out loud. Maybe too loud. The name rolled off his tongue with subtle disgust. He felt conflicted about the guy's absence from your side but was also relieved that he got to have you to himself.

"He's talking to my aunt," You replied nonchalantly, refraining yourself from shrugging.

His eyebrows furrowed, "Your aunt? Don't you mean your mom?"

You shook your head, looking at him oddly. "Last I heard, Zeke's my cousin, not my brother."

Spencer's eyebrows lifted over his forehead, "Ah, right. Yeah, that'd be weird…" He gave his best to sound casual while he internally screamed in his head. If only he could do a somersault without breaking every bone in his body and looking stupid, he would.

"Imagine the horror," You scoffed, bringing the book up to continue reading.

He watched you silently for a moment. He never knew why he thought a friend was all he was ever going to see you as. It must be the stupidest idea he's ever had.

Spencer bit his lower lip, his hands clenched on the side of your bed, "I—" He bit his tongue, unsure how to continue or how to start.

You turned to him with raised eyebrows, "Hmm? D'you say something?" You closed the book, giving him all the attention he has been dying to get for the past week.

"I—uh…" He swallowed the lump in his throat, "I know it's way too late to say this, but," Spencer wet his lips and met your gaze, "I'm sorry for being a jerk and—"

"It's okay, Spence," You smiled, cutting him off. "I did throw my feelings at you out of nowhere, so I kind of understand—"

Spencer cut you off, "Still doesn't it make it right for me to be an asshole. It's not like you—"

You shook your head, "But I was being unreasonable. I had no right to stop you from—"

It was like a game. Both of you kept cutting each other off like an indecisive scale.

Spencer couldn't take it anymore and grabbed your face, giving you a quick, soft kiss on your lips. "Just shut up for a second…" His breath fanned on your face, "Please…" He rested his forehead on yours and began to speak as soon as he felt you nod. "I'm sorry for being a jerk. I'm sorry for reacting like a coward. And I'm sorry for being stupid." He spoke in a rush as if he knew you'd talk over him as soon as you had the chance to.

"I'm sorry I said I was disappointed in you. I made a blunder…" You laughed at his joke. "I thought if I turned you down, I'd never have to worry about losing you. I was obviously wrong." He playfully rolled his eyes, only widening your grin. "I was falling for you, and I chickened out—"

You felt giddy. You couldn't stop the grin on your face. Your eyes couldn't help but stare at his lips. You did your best to listen to his sweet words, but damn were you easily distracted by him.

Apologies after apologies, sweet words after sappy sentiments. You grew too impatient. He was talking too much.

"Spencer, just say you love me and kiss me," You interjected, pulling his shirt to get him closer.

He laughed softly. A sound that made your heart skip a beat. He caressed your cheek with his thumb, tilting your head higher.

"I love you… I'm in love with you."

Spencer felt so good to finally admit it: to you and to himself. He pulled you in once more and kissed you again, longer this time.

He couldn't get enough of it, enough of you. He only pulled away when a nurse came in to check on you, blushing like a red beet.

Not a second after, his phone rang. The team was looking for him and wondering where he was, emphasizing the fact that they were to fly in forty minutes.

Spencer went back into the room, low-spirited. He didn't want to leave you just yet. You had barely forgiven him, and he barely knocked some sense into his stubborn head. He wanted to stay and make up for the month he'd missed.

But duty calls, so he sat silently as the jet took off the runway, fiddling with the loose string on his cuff. A snapping sound pulled him out of his trance.

"Reid," Derek called out as he sat on the left seat across Spencer. "How'd it go?" Derek queried.

"How'd what go?" Spencer's eyebrows raised. What could Derek possibly mean?

Derek looked at him as if Spencer was crazy, "You said you'd go to the hospital to get your migraine checked out. Is everything alright?"

JJ heard their conversation, turning on her seat, "Didn't you get checked out last week? Is it getting worse?" She worriedly asked, joining the discussion.

Spencer's ears turned pink as he quickly glanced at JJ, "Y-yeah... I mean, no. I'm fine." He stuttered, clearing his throat.

Emily squinted at the boy genius' stutter. She wasn't as smart as him, but she knew him well enough to know when he was lying. "Which hospital did you go to?" She raised her eyebrows.

"The... one on..." Spencer wasn't prepared to take the hot seat. His mind was still clouded by the thought of you. It was like he was under the influence, unable to get his head straight.

"The one where she's staying?" Emily prompted.

"Yeah, the one where she's staying—wait who?" Spencer was taken aback.

Emily grinned, catching a glimpse of a purple hue on Spencer's skin hiding behind his collar. "I think he's fine," She told JJ and Derek. He looked at Spencer, "You're fine, right?"

Spencer hesitantly nodded his head.

Derek's eyebrows knitted, "What are you on about?" He turned to Emily, who was sitting next to him.

"When you're stressed out, what do you usually do?" Emily raised her hand before letting Derek answer, "With Savannah." She smirked.

"Damn, Prentiss. I didn't know you were that curious about my sex life." Derek replied sarcastically.

"No," Emily smacked her forehead. She decided not to explain herself any further. She looked at the genius across him, "So, how is she?" When Spencer gave her a confused look, she rolled her eyes, "Oh, please. Stop acting like you didn't just make out with her."

Spencer looked down and giggled silently. Busted. It was your fault, really. Before he left, you made sure to turn his frown upside down and did it so well that his mind was malfunctioning from the memory of your lips, leaving marks on his chest.

"She's fine. The doctor said she'd be able to fly home in a few days." Spencer replied giddily.

Emily smirked, "Yeah, I bet she's fine, alright." She pointed at Spencer's tie, enough hint for Derek and JJ to catch up in the conversation.

"My man," Derek's grinned.

JJ's eyes widened, and her mouth was slightly agape. "So, are you two made up?"

Spencer nodded, "Yeah... just a tricky blunder."

reid masterlist | masterlist

[bamfkeeper]

Dashing Swashbuckler

RQ: 'Imagine Reader trying to be subtle about how watching Kurt being a debonair swashbuckler makes her swoon (whether Kurt's showing off deliberately or not... who's to say?)' - @crocwork-clockodile

Warnings: F!reader, slightly suggestive themes, not edited.

A/N: This is so cute, it was fun to write. I hope you enjoy!

WC: 1.0k

Kurt was a charming man.

He was naturally charismatic, his kind gestures and demeanor had made everyone feel welcome, regardless of how they felt about their appearances or mutations. He made you feel like any insecurity you had didn't matter.

You wondered how someone who had such hardships could be so welcoming and kind, his heart was gold and full of never-ending love. You enjoyed spending time with him, you looked forward to any chance you got to be with him. He was thoughtful, chivalrous, and most importantly, he made you feel like you mattered.

It was no secret he was quite the swordsman too, you hadn't seen him do much with his swashbuckling skills, but when you saw him practicing one afternoon, you couldn't take your eyes from him. He was so graceful and efficient, the acrobat flipped and moved with such fluidity, he appeared to be like water.

He was simply practicing, but you could tell how frustrating he'd be in a fight. Not just his natural agility, but adding his teleportation, he's a hard opponent. You had never sparred with him before, you weren't trained as acutely as the rest of the team was. Most of your practice felt like you were on a baby level or safety proofed simulation. It didn't really matter to you, going out on big missions wasn't why you were there. You just wanted to feel safe for once in your life.

Your attention was caught again as Kurt continued his elegant movements, spinning and twisting and flipping with ease. The way he swung his swords around and hit all the obstacles was mesmerizing to you. He was so beautiful, and his kind soul just made you feel more attached to him. It didn't help that he often liked to show off in front of you, you felt yourself blush a little as you recalled a specific event of him being extra extravagant.

He was quite the showman.

You moved closer to get a better show of his skills, and he noticed you peeking around the well trimmed trees around the mansion grounds. The sudden pair of eyes on him gave him added energy, and his skills improved. He was clearly peacocking now, showing off and doing things he wouldn't normally in real combat, but for training he could execute.

He finally stops for a moment just long enough to walk to the small bench by the rose bed and pick up his water bottle. He drank from it and glanced at you hiding poorly. "You can come out, fräulein..." he chuckled lightly, watching your form peek out from where you had been hiding. Your cheeks were slightly dusted as you were caught spying, but you couldn't help it.

"Sorry for watching...I couldn't help myself. You were flipping and moving so fast. I only watched for a second, then...a few minutes and...time sort of kept going. Before I knew it I was...kind of being a stalker." You blushed admitting that you were watching him, even though he had already spotted you.

Kurt chuckled in response, twirling one of the swords he had. "Don't fret, I don't mind being watched. In fact, it helps me show off." He winked and stepped back a little. "You don't train much, why don't I help you? For fun, of course..." He offered the hilt of one of the swords to you, encouraging you take it.

Reluctantly, you grasped the golden handle, surprised at how heavy the swords really were. You grunted slightly, having to hold on with two hands. You felt a bit flustered, but he didn't tease you about it. "It's alright, just do your best to hold it up...like this, ja, that's it!" He guided your arms and helped you position, then pointed at the dummy. "Now strike it down, like you're trying to fight an enemy."

With shaky arms, you took a cautious step towards the unmoving dummy, raising the sword and striking the dummy with a long slash. You stumbled a little, the weight of the sword drug you down a little bit. Kurt grabbed your arms and made sure you didn't accidentally strike your own leg. By how he grasped your forearms, his chest pressed against your back and his pelvis brushed against yours. The closeness made you blush more and you had stiffened at the proximity.

"You are so tense...that is why you are having difficulty wielding these," he noted, guiding you to stand upright again. "Deep breath...and relax. It's just me, fräulein...no one else is watching. I promise Scott won't come out and demand a perfect form." Kurt added with a tease to help you relax.

You slowly tried again, doing better this time. Kurt clapped and laughed, "Wunderbar! Good job, fräulein...that was much better! Soon you might be as good as me." Kurt winked at you, making you slightly tense again. You swallowed and blushed a bit, lowering the heavy sword and relieving the muscles in your arms.

"Oh, I don't know about that. I think I'm better off just watching you." You replied shyly, "If that's...okay."

"My spy wants to watch hm?" he chuckled back and waved his hand, "Of course. I don't mind, it actually encourages me to go a little harder than I normally would. When I have a lovely thing like you watching, I must do my best to impress..." He teased, that charming smile plastered on his fanged face. You had to take a breath after he spoke, he wanted to impress you and wanted you to watch him.

You exhaled and tried not to show just how much he affected you. Despite your efforts, he obviously knew. It was so painfully obvious to him and pretty much everyone else how much of a crush you had on him. Kurt didn't want to overwhelm you so he stepped back to keep training, but would wink at you every now and then just to see you squirm and blush more.

One day he'd ask you out.

But first, he'd keep teasing you.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover image: Amazing X-Men #1 (2014)

[fatuismooches]

Dottore and his segments get a taste of their own medicine after giving you a job of your own. (In other words, you ignore their need for attention in favor of your work, they get pouty, just like you did.)

As of late, a peculiar sight had made its way into the lab. Actually, peculiar wasn't even strong enough of a word for the agents to use. They had nearly tripped over their feet once they saw the new area of their working quarters in the lab.

In addition to their Lord Harbinger's desk (that was shared amongst the segments depending on the day), there was now another desk on the opposite side of the room, and the cute decorations on it were quite noticeable. Photo frames and stationery. A comfortable and plush chair with a blanket that dropped over it.

... A plushie version of the Harbinger that laid on Dottore's desk, commissioned by you to motivate him.

(A side thought - the number of desks the Doctor had was something to wonder about. One in the lab, one in the office, one in the bedroom - no wonder things were always scattered around the place. But that was something for another day...)

And most importantly, you, Dottore's spouse, standing next to their Lord, rocking back on your heels nervously as he introduced you as their new co-worker.

—

It all began when you approached your husband with a very simple request.

"Dottie, I want a job!" You said with enthusiasm, smile as wide and proud as ever. The scientist paused his work and turned to look at you with a blank expression.

"... A job, you say?" You only puffed your chest out more at his confirmation.

"Yes, a job. I mean, being your lover is already a lot of work for my poor back, but I want to actually work with you! With your research and stuff, like the old days!" Your excitement was completely serious and were it not for your health, it would have been infectious for the scholar. Rarely did he ever meet anyone who was truly interested in his work. But of course, certain restrictions have held you back for a long time now.

"We've already been over this. My work is too dangerous for you," the Doctor sighed as he turned back around to continue whatever he was doing.

"I know, I know, but I meant other kinds of stuff. I've been thinking like... a desk job! It doesn't have to be anything dangerous! I could... sort papers for you? Oh, and you have one of those fancy stamps, right? I could stamp them too! I could rewrite your notes... ah, and the best part - I could help you write reports too! You always liked my essays, didn't you?" You were doing your best to provide Dottore with a convincing case, snuggling up against his firm back. Only another sigh escaped your husband, not really that convinced.

"Come on..." you inhaled his familiar scent, tinged with that laboratory smell that never seemed to go away, but somehow brought comfort to you. "I've been so bored lately... and lonely," you muttered the last part pointedly. "I just want some work to take my mind off things!"

Indeed, there was always limited entertainment and pastimes to occupy yourself with. It was especially boring on days you couldn't get out of bed, or when no segment could afford you attention...

"And you know what, I could give those agents of yours some writing tips, too!"

Yes, there had been many times his employees were not up to his standards, despite how many of them fawned over him (for some odd reason)...

"And I'll be helping you too! It's good for everyone."

Of course, you always felt rather good about yourself if you managed to help him, being the Second Harbinger and all...

"I suppose I shall give it some thought-" Before the man could finish his sentence you started squeezing him tightly while hopping in delight.

"Oh, thank you! So, when do I start? Do I get one of your huge desks too?"

"I didn't say yes yet, darling."

"Shh... we both know what you mean!"

—

And that was how you now clocked in at "work" every day with the agents (later than normal, but you had special privileges.) It was daunting at first for the poor souls, even the ones who secretly admired you from afar (being in the fan club and all.) Even though initially you were merely sorting papers, you were the most important person in that room.

However, soon enough, going to work in this dreary lab became a lot more cheery thanks to your sweet demeanor. Somehow, the atmosphere had become a lot less tense since the last time the segments visited.

The agents had little to no problem speaking to you like a normal person, after you had graciously given them tips on impressing the Harbinger.

"Psst..." you were hovering behind an unsuspecting agent, reading the report she had for Dottore, who jumped at your whisper. "You know, he might click his tongue if you give him that." Although her mask covered her face, you could see that half surprised at how you popped out of nowhere, and half agreeing with your words. Perhaps she felt comfortable enough to spill the situation to you.

"I-I am well aware of that," she deeply sighed, "but no matter what I write, my Lord always seems to be unsatisfied..." You patted her shoulder in sympathy. Having worked with Dottore since the Akademiya days, you knew very well of his distaste for certain things.

"Well, that's why I was hired, friend! To make his and your life easier! See, look here, that's a no-no, he wouldn't appreciate those details, mhm, but this needs to be elaborated on more, uh huh..." Of course, being the good spouse and employee you were, the report was converted into the best one that had ever landed on the Doctor's desk.

On your lunch break, they provided you with some juicy gossip about anything they could get their hands on (the fan club had long reaches, apparently.) Frequently you had to debunk things about Dottore... (the handbook was swiftly revised.)

Needless to say, things seemed to be going well. You looked happier. Motivated. Having new "friends" as your company (that still watched their mouth around you after a single glance from the segments.)

However... an issue arose after a while. One that seemed entirely stupid and impossible.

Now that you were so caught up in your work, when the segments finally had some spare time to come to you, they were... rejected. Yes, they had come to you, fully expecting your devoted attention and kisses that you always gave them without hesitation, but now turned away. (Even more embarrassing, sometimes in front of the agents who kept their eyes glued to their strange chemicals.)

—

It was Omega, of all segments, who was turned away first. The most confident and charming of the bunch left uncharacteristically silent. He had come up behind you and traced his hands against your neck, always being the one who had no shame in touching you. You only softly giggled at the sensation and caught his hand in yours.

"It seems you've been busy for a while, dear." In truth, it was mostly you seeking him out and not vice versa, but the segment hadn't seen you invading his office in a while. The space had gotten too quiet without you.

"Mhm! But I can't imagine how much work you do. My desk is nowhere as cluttered as yours," you smiled as you felt the segment kiss your lashes.

"What do you say to a break with me?" Omega offered, already knowing what your eager response would be.

"Nah, I can't right now."

...

Your words took a few seconds to process through his head.

"Pardon?"

"I have all this work, 'Mega, and other people need my help," you shrugged your shoulders as you swung your legs. "But don't worry. I'm sure we can spend some time later!" You kissed him on the cheek and pulled your chair in before continuing your work.

Omega, the greatest segment, was reduced to a blankly staring man who had been deprived of his lover's attention for the first time.

He was irritable for the rest of the day.

—

Beta was next, the poor thing.

You were always the one he blew off steam to, always willing to listen about his gripes and complaints, offering him consolation in the form of kisses and soft words.

However, you hadn't come to visit in so long, the segment was all pent up and now the agents were beginning to fall victim to him.

Fine then - he'd seek you out. Not because he needed you or missed you or anything of the sort. You were just... halting his progress with the lack of your presence. Yes, that was it.

And so the scientist, donning his grand pink bow tie, swung by your desk.

"So this is where you've been? How boring." Beta was not a segment that you'd want to do paperwork. He much preferred to be hands-on.

"Ah, Beta!" You brightened in delight at seeing one of your lovers. "I missed you!" At least you were always honest about your feelings.

... But to cut a long story short, Beta faced the same conundrum that Omega did.

Someone got turned into a floating Ruin Machine that day.

—

By now all the segments had experienced being turned away from work. Alpha's signature scowl had become permanent. Zandy was pouting the whole day as he missed his parent. Foxttore kept to himself with a pathetic sopping wet eye. His segments were fighting with each other inside his mind, a great nuisance.

All because you were too absorbed with your work to pay them any attention.

... The Doctor was now realizing that it sounded like a very familiar tune sung by you. So this was what you felt for days on end? Now, it was easier for him to understand why you were always upset if you were ignored too much.

Still, it was mortifyingly embarrassing that his segments were reduced to this pitiful state just because you rejected cuddles a few times. Regardless, it was up to him to solve the issue. After all... he missed you too. He wanted you to be around him more often again.

And so the Doctor made his way to his beloved.

There you were, all cozy on your seat as you sorted through some papers. Really, he had no clue you'd be this productive, to be honest. At least it was proof that your health hadn't gotten worse, considering how well you were handling this.

"Aren't you the one who kept saying to take breaks?" His voice made you jump a bit, having not heard him walk up.

"It's you, Dottie! I was wondering when you'd come around. And of course, I take breaks, Dottore. I have lunch with the other agents!" Ah, another party that's been hogging your attention.

"You know, this job has been pretty fun, Dottore! Everyone's real nice, we make jokes, I get to write about interesting things..." You continued to go on about the research and while usually he'd be intrigued by your findings, this time he had enough.

Dottore picked you up like a long cat as you squealed from the sudden grasping.

"What are you doing?!"

"You're coming with me," was his cut and dry response as he lifted you into his arms.

"B-But I have to work on the big report for Pantalone!" Dottore's eye twitched at the mention of the banker.

"Someone else can."

"But I-"

"I'm not listening to anything you say further," he plainly said as he walked with you cuddled into his chest as you gawked at him.

Could he be... jealous? A wee bit lonely? You kept your guesses to yourself as he eventually bought you back to his room and laid you on his bed, not even saying anything to you before sitting at his desk.

Did he simply miss your presence that much? You felt a bit bad neglecting your lovers that much. But to be fair, they kinda did the same... sometimes. You got up to console your silly husband, who was just a man in your hands.

"Hey... I missed you too, dear husband... but I had to make sure no one stole the title of best assistant from me!" Dottore only sighed at your foolishness.

Of course no one could ever replace you.

"I know you'd rather die than admit it... but don't worry. You're lucky I'm sensitive to your feelings," you teased as you kissed the top of his mask. "I'll pay more attention to you and the segments, before they cause another headache for you, love. You'll give me some vacation time off, right?"

You laughed at your own joke before Dottore pulled you into his lap, biting down hard on your neck.

—

"Beloved, would you care to join me in discussing your work?"

"You fool, they're obviously coming to my lab to activate a new Ruin Machine."

"But [Name] is supposed to play with me today!!"

"As if, they're far too busy to join you all with your silly games."

"You all will stress them out with this arguing. Now, why don't you join me for a cup of coffee instead?"

"Grr, gr gr, grr!"

It was good to be loved so deeply.

[rafey-baby]

hidden 3

c/w: hostage/stockholm syndrome situation, outlaw!rafe being his usual self, mentions of murder, pogue!reader having some sexual awakenings & some backstory on rafe, 18+ mdni!

wc: 2.3k

hope u enjoy xx

part 1 part 2 & part 4 part 5

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  

The following morning, her eyes groggily open in her own bed— covers tucked over her shoulders and head comfortably propped up by her pillow.

She finds herself perplexed, doesn’t know how she ended up here since her last coherent memory from last night is sitting on the passenger seat of Rafe’s truck and letting her heavy lids close for what was originally supposed to be a few minutes.   

Her sock-clad feet pad over to the living room where Rafe is rummaging through some of his papers and whatnot; appearing as busy as ever.   

“Why don’t I remember coming home last night?” she stops to stand next to him.  

“Cause you sleep like a fuckin’ rock. Had to carry you to your room,” he sounds disinterested, not even bothering to lift his head from the piece of paper he’s pinching between his fingers.

Upon closer inspection, it appears to be some sort of a contract—letters unfortunately too tiny for her to be able to read from where she’s standing.  

“Oh. Thanks?”  

Instead of leaving her passed out in his car like she would’ve assumed, he tucked her into bed? Maybe he owns a heart, after all.   

“It’s whatever,” he dismisses her while reading something over; seemingly deep in thought.   

“Do you— do you need help with that?”  

“Nah, I’m good,” his hand lifts up to scratch at the back of his head before scribbling something down. 

“Right…” she trails off, apparently rooted in her spot and unable to move.   

“Did you want something or what?” his tone is suddenly exasperated, eyes finally flickering up to peer into hers along with his brows raising expectantly.   

“No, I just…are we going somewhere today?” she can’t help but feel a little out of place in her own home with him there; almost as if she’s waiting for his next command to know what to do. It makes something peculiar swim in the pits of her stomach.   

“Nah, just have to go over these. Can you, I dunno, go to your room or something? You’re botherin’ me with your staring,” he grumbles and shifts into a more comfortable position on the couch; not sparing her another ounce of attention.   

“Sorry,” she mumbles, a frown taking over her visage.   

Honestly, she’s not entirely sure what she’s supposed to do now. Normally, she’d go to work at the surf shop near the beach but since Rafe so kindly took her phone and texted everyone in her contacts about a family emergency that would take some days to sort through, she can’t exactly do that.

And besides work…well, she doesn’t really have much else going on in her life. It’s sad, really, how a literal criminal forcing his way into her house is the most exciting thing to happen to her in the past few years.   

All things considered though, she doesn’t mind living a quiet life in the Cut, just sometimes wishes she didn’t feel so…lonely. And don’t get her wrong, she has friends, she just sometimes yearns for something deeper than fun boat adventures or getting high with her feet dangling over the dock while a tangerine-colored sunset paints over the horizon.   

She’s always had this dream of traveling around the world or simply just somewhere that wasn’t the Outer Banks but her parents never had the money for it. Therefore, she settled and learned to earn a living by herself in order to keep a roof over her head.   

And she’s been content with her simple life, even considers herself to be happy but then she sat on Rafe’s lap and at the realization of him getting hard from her unconscious rubbing against him felt butterflies in her belly, maybe for the first time in her life. It was something she thought only happened in movies yet there they were; their fluttering wings poking at her core like some vicious reminder that she hadn’t let someone make her feel good in ages.   

Truth be told, she grew tired of guys not being able to make her come because they didn’t understand her needs; didn’t even bother to find them out which is why she sort of lost hope for the whole thing altogether. But then Rafe steps inside her home uninvited and is nothing but mean to her and suddenly she... 

It's wrong.  

It doesn't make any sense yet she still can't help but feel a certain pull towards him whenever he's close. And she doesn't like it one bit; wants to forget about it as quickly as the thought breaches her mind.  

It's far too complex for her perplexed mind to grasp onto, which is why she confuses it for insanity; simply decides that she’s going crazy. And maybe she is, because why else would she suddenly care for Rafe? Why is a hidden part of her heart beginning to harbor gooey, fond feelings for a killer who’s technically holding her hostage?  

She’s sure her muddled brain is going to explode if she thinks about the matter any longer; instead opting to take a long, scalding shower due to the clothes she’s been wearing since yesterday starting to stick to her sweaty skin and making her feel even filthier than she already does.  

Unfortunately, the steaming water doesn't quite wash away the ache between her thighs.  

She’s in the middle of pulling a shirt over the damp strands of her hair when harsh knuckles rap against her bedroom door and Rafe enters a second later; not even bothering to wait for a response.   

“Change of plans—” his words die down on his tongue when he notices her current state.   

“Rafe, what the fuck?” she quickly adjusts the hem over her waist, painfully aware of the fact that she’s not wearing any pants and his eyes are now fixed on the lace of her panties practically on show for him.  

“Why are you just barging into my room like that? I could’ve been naked!” she complains before snatching a pair of shorts off her floor; tugging them over her hips.   

“Shit, wouldn’t have minded if you were. Got a nice ass for a Pogue,” he shrugs while sporting an irritating smirk that makes her glare at him.   

“And you’ve got no manners for a Kook. Except, I’m not surprised,” she rolls her eyes when he feigns shock; exaggeratedly dropping his jaw.  

“Puppy’s getting angry, huh? Where’s this attitude coming from? Thought you were still scared of me?” he belittles her with a condescending tinge in his laugh.  

And she’s about to respond when out of the blue the ring of her doorbell reverberates around the house.   

They both tense.   

“You’re expecting someone?” his tone turns bleak, frigid; inducing shivers to litter across her arms as her head turns towards the source of the sound.   

“N— no. I’m not,” she stutters because truthfully, she doesn’t have a clue as to who could be at her door in the middle of an ordinary Tuesday.   

“Did you fucking call someone?” he takes a threatening step towards her and she panics.    

“No! I promise, I didn’t. I don’t even— you literally have my phone, remember?” she tries to fruitlessly defend herself.   

“I swear, if you’re lying right now—”   

“I’m not, okay? I didn’t call anyone!” She reassures once more, although it seems like he’s not even listening anymore. Therefore, she tries to be logical. ”I should— I should go and see who it is, right?”  

The icebound water in his eyes bores into her as he weighs out his options.  

“Right, right. Yeah, you should do that," he finally settles on. "But if you even consider telling them anything, I swear I’m gonna fucking find you, you understand?” He grits out into her face and she flinches when she can feel his harsh breaths hit her mouth with each syllable.   

She quickly nods before teetering towards the entrance of her home and twisting the lock with precarious fingers.  

Soon, she’s standing in front of two men wearing police uniforms.  

“Oh, sorry for the wait. Was um…in the bathroom. How can I— uh, help you?” she tries to appear unfazed; inhaling slowly and doing everything she can in order to not look as guilty as she feels.  

“We apologize for the inconvenience but we’ve been assigned to ask around the island in order to locate a criminal who’s potentially a threat to our entire community,” one of them says and she thinks his jaded eyes are peering into her soul and seeing right through her rickety facade.  

“Have you seen this man recently?” the other guy dangles a picture of Rafe in the air. She takes a moment to properly look at the photo as to not answer too quickly.   

“N— no, sorry. Can’t say I have. Why? Who is that?” she bats her lashes in confusion as her poor heart thuds in her ribcage. She wonders if they can hear it.  

“This is Rafe Cameron. You might’ve heard about Cameron Development? He became the owner after his father’s death a few years back. And now we have reason to believe that he’s the main suspect for the murder of a fellow officer,” he states with a serious expression.  

“Oh, that’s…that’s terrible,” her eyes widen in shock because she had no idea Rafe was a Cameron. Of course, she’d heard everyone talking about what had happened with Ward Cameron and the rumors surrounding the gold but she’d never cared enough to dig through for more information about the rest of his family.   

“Seems like the apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree considering what Ward did to Sheriff Peterkin,” the one with the piercing stare snickers and her brows furrow because she doesn’t think the topic is all that hilarious.   

“I remember watching that in the news when it was all happening. Didn’t you guys also arrest an innocent Pogue with no actual proof?” her question is sharp because the whole case still itches her in the wrong way.  

“That was— listen, I wasn’t even here back then, it was all very tragic. But the investigation on this case is still ongoing and we have a reliable witness claiming they saw Rafe dragging something heavy near the ocean the night before we found the body washed up on the shore. And according to multiple sources Rafe was the last person seen with our coworker at the island club a few hours prior to his death,” the guy explains and she momentarily wonders if they’re even allowed to share this much classified information with her.   

“Right. Well, I really wish I could help you but I unfortunately haven’t seen him,” her teeth sink into the inside of her cheek and she wonders if they can tell that she’s lying.  

“At this point, it seems like no one has. We’re suspecting that he might’ve fled the country. Anyway, we’ve got orders to search every house but honestly, we don’t think he’d be on this side of the island. So, we’re not gonna waste our time on that. Call this number if you notice anything out of the ordinary, though?”   

“Yes, of course. I really wish there was more I could do to help. Hope you guys find him soon,” she offers them a tight smile.   

“We’ll do our best,” they assure her before the door finally closes.   

Her back slides down against the wood as her labored breathing begins to slow down. She closes her eyes in a moment of relief until she feels Rafe’s presence interfering with her peace.   

“Who knew you were such a good liar? Shouldn’t believe everything you say too easily then, should I?” his gaze travels down her form and he genuinely seems impressed.   

“You killed a cop?” she decides to ignore his teasing.  

“Relax. He was a sleazy bastard who was helping me with some side business and became too greedy. What can I say? Don’t like being used. But believe me, he was not a good person,” he answers her question, maybe for the first time ever.  

“Right, right,” she tries her very best to understand where he’s coming from but she doesn’t think she’s ever going to be able to justify ending someone’s life with such indifference. In her opinion, he doesn’t have the right to decide whether someone gets to live or not; no matter how good or bad of a person they are.  

“Listen, I didn’t mean to do it, it just…happened, okay?” he tries to explain himself and he almost sounds vulnerable. She nearly feels bad for him.   

“You know, I could go to jail for helping you!” she snaps when frustration bubbles to the surface instead.   

“Calm down, Pup. You’re not going to jail, alright? And watch that fucking tone, yeah?” his hands rest on his head as he begins to pace around the hallway.   

“I just— cops don’t care about Pogues. If they find out I lied to them they’re gonna put me behind bars cause unlike you, I don’t have the money to bail myself out,” she tries to pointlessly reason with him.   

“Already told you, nothing’s gonna happen to you, okay? Now can you shut the fuck up so I can think?” he demands, halting his movements.   

“Did they, uh, tell you anything?” he speaks up again and she tells him everything she remembers from the brief conversation while he mulls over his situation.  

“Right, right. So, they don’t actually have any real proof about me killing the guy? Just speculation,” he confirms.   

“I guess, yeah? But I don’t know if they even know all the details about the case,” she offers in response and can practically hear the wheels turning in his head.   

“They didn’t happen to mention who the witness was?”   

“N— no, why?” her voice wavers as she swallows around the question.  

He lifts his head to inspect her reaction when he seems to have finally conjured up some sort of a plan to clear his name.   

“Think I’m gonna have to pay him a little visit. And you’re gonna help, aren’t ya?” 

She would very much like to find out whatever sin she committed in a past life that weighed so heavily that it made her end up in a position as wretched as this one. 

[logansluvr]

TASTE

LOGAN HOWLETT x F!READER

SUMMARY : You won’t admit it, but it stung when you realized you were just a placeholder while Logan waited for Jean AGAIN. Now that she has him, she realizes that no matter how hard she tries there will always be you somewhere on him…Or Jean and Logan both fucked themselves over while you enjoy the aftermath.

WARNING : description of mutant powers (all things nature), angst, more angst, Jean slander (sorry), suggestive content, nothing deeper than a make out, hurt/slight comfort, some Logan slander (ily), Logan has some self reflection time, love triangle??square???

basically I was listening to taste and this sparked in my head and now it won’t leave me alone…

I heard you're back together and if that's true

you'll just have to taste me when he's kissin' you

IN ALL HONESTY SOMEWHERE IN THE BACK OF your mind you knew it was coming. It was nice to indulge in the fantasy though. You indulged in it as an ode to your past self ( you from a year ago ) when you realized that what you thought of Logan was more than a crush. The opportunity presented itself so sinfully you thought it had to be some sort of hallucination.

You couldn’t say no, after all you still had that ode to your past self and deep down you felt…comforted. Comforted in the fact that Logan had thought about you in that way — though that thought diminished soon enough.

At first it was nice, Logan treated you right even if there was something a little off about it. He took you out on occasion, made you laughed, hell he even laughed with you.

There was a point after three months where he began to not mind falling asleep in your bed — even if he acted a little colder the day after it happened.

There were nights when he would be extra tense after a small rescue mission, or after something happened during the day.

He’d take it out on you by burying himself inside of you, biting down on your chest in places clothes covered — other times he’d just bury his head between your thighs taking his time in making you fall apart over and over.

But after nights like those he wouldn’t even look you in the eyes directly. It seemed that only a half a year into your relationship you realized something odd. Certain people in the halls would stare at you with pity, Scott Summers barely looked you in the eyes and even the professor seemed like each word he said to you he was internally wincing.

It was only one night after a particularly rough mission that you had pieced most of it together. Once you were in your room you recalled the high tension between Scott, Jean, and Logan. Most of the time you felt like you a Ororo were missing a big piece of something — especially with the way they’d all go at each other.

You were grateful he had the decency to tell you rather than ignore you, you weren’t even paying attention. Too busy trying to hold back tears — ones you were confused on having.

He muttered something along the lines of you being too young and he just isn’t ready for something like that. You didn’t care, it was a bunch of bullshit. You didn’t need telepathy to know that.

Once he shut the door behind him you had walked to the shower, turned it on, stepped inside with your clothes on, and cried. For a minute you didn’t even realize why you were crying until you had the realization that it was because you felt more for him than you initially let yourself believe.

The days after that everyone sensed the tension, Logan tried to act normal. You however, you just simply brushed him off — he didn’t need to know that he had seriously fucked with your mental. You were going to act normal, act like it didn’t affect you.

It was bad enough the professor looked at you with sympathy the day after your crying session.

On the bright side he fixed your schedule around so you’d see less of Logan.

The week following the breakup you realized he hadn’t even waited that long before he was already crowding Jean — that’s when you realized it wasn’t one big coincidence Scott was meaner at the same time Logan was crowding the Dr.

You had unfortunately turned down the hallway about a week and a half after the breakup, patting a student on the shoulder after they had bombarded you with questions. You were going to meet Scott, his next class in coordination with yours.

But as you glanced at the end of the hall you saw him. Standing next to her, arm on the wall as he smiled down at her. Staring like she was the only thing in the room — you could almost hear the swish of the trees outside, an affect from the anger simmering beneath you.

Thankfully someone stepped out of the classroom you were about to enter. It was one about halfway down the hall, and it seemed to draw both your attention and the attention of couple practically eye fucking at the end of the hallway.

Scott glanced at them, thankful for his sunglasses so they couldn’t see the glare on his face before he turned towards you. Clenching his jaw he walked towards you, handing you the lesson plan he had worked up.

You were far too busy reading over the sheet to notice the gaze burning holes into your back — but Scott wasn’t. And as he glanced over his shoulder he found Logan Howlett staring directly at you.

And a Jean grey staring at him staring at you.

It was only about three weeks after the breakup when something seemed to change. You hadn’t truly been feeling better but you were getting there — busying yourself with other things. Working more on your abilities and working on your training.

You were none the wiser to the situation happening between the two people you’d successfully stopped feeling hatred for. You stopped the avoidance thing about two weeks after the breakup, the mansion was big but not that big.

While it didn’t outwardly bother you that much, other people seemed to notice a tense thing between the couple anytime you were in the vicinity.

There was a day when it seemed like everything went from bad to worse between them. It was a nice day outside and Jean found herself in Logan’s arms, holding onto him whilst his lips pressed against hers.

Her hands were tangling in his hair whilst they swapped whatever DNA they were hoping to swap. And when they pulled away to catch their breath her eyes remained closed, a small furrow in her brow as her tongue ran over her lips.

If someone were to ask her, she’d say she was hallucinating.

Because she could’ve sworn she tasted cherry lipgloss on Logan’s lips — cherry lipgloss she didn’t own.

Yet as her tongue darted out to lick her lips again, it was gone. Her eyes cracking open to find Logan’s gaze over her shoulder, and when she spun around to glance at what had got his attention there you were.

There you always were.

Oblivious to the fact that Logan was watching you. Oblivious to the fact that wherever you showed up he seemed to only look at you the way he used to look at Jean. Oblivious to the fact that all you had to do was enter the same room and all of the sudden his attention was on you.

And it wasn’t on purpose, cause there was a moment where your mental forces had slipped and she probed. And when she dug deeper she only find pure oblivion, it made it all the harder to spite you.

She could ignore if she wanted too, and she tried. For a while. But every-time she kissed him, there was that lingering feeling of tasting cherry lipgloss.

The same cherry lipgloss she watched you apply in a mirror in the hallway.

And she swore your perfume lingered on him even if it had been weeks since you’d been within five feet of him.

Every time you close your eyes

And feel his lips, you're feelin' mine

And every time you breathe his air

Just know I was already there

this was short Ik but I’m currently crying because I had a smut with over 6.k words and HALF OF IT DIDNT SAVE?!??!?

anyways <33 taglist??

[itsgrimeytime]

i know i got him || Rick Grimes (TWD) x gn! reader

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker @zomb-1-egutzz

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: Espresso by Sabrina Carpenter

Summary: Ever since you showed up, you've had an effect on Rick. At least, that's what everyone said. Initially, you hadn't recognized it. But after one too many coincidences, it's starting to become a little impossible to ignore.

TWs: flirting, simp behavior, cursing, and all things TWD.

[[A/N: Was listening to this song nonstop (so good btw) and my brain went... hmm. Rick is terribly down bad in this. Like eager to do things for you, following you around like a puppy dog, the works. Also this gif????? girl... Enjoy :)))) ]]

You had never really thought about how you affected him. Or how they thought you did, anyway.

"You're being ridiculous," you stated -plainly.

Maggie was trying desperately to convince you that you had one Rick Grimes wrapped around your finger. Rick Grimes? Wrapped around your finger? No way.

"Do you remember yesterday? When he went on a run to find you a pair of shoes?"

"That was not why he went out on a run," you laughed a little, mindlessly bouncing Judith against your side, "-we need more as a community than just-"

"Then, why-" she interjected, "-did he only come back with shoes?"

"He didn't," you countered, "-He had some cans of food, I remember."

"Two," she relented, looking at you with a raised eyebrow, "-he went out on a run for two cans of food?"

"Sometimes you can't find much-"

"Oh my god," Maggie rolled her eyes, "-you are unbelievable. Let me just show ya-"

You pursed your lips, as she walked ahead of you -beelining to Rick. She had quite the pep in her step, pregnant and all, "Show me?"

Before you could call out to her, she was at Rick's side. He seemed to be talking to Deanna, actually, and if he was talking to Deanna, it was probably important. He smiled at her, in a Rick sort of way, until she started motioning to you. You had no idea what she was saying, but his eyes flicked to you instinctively.

Now, you'd never thought about if he smiled differently at you, but it was kind of hard to ignore right now.

Eyes dipping over you and Judith, the bright grin on his face was very different than the one for Maggie previously. And it wasn't even like that one wasn't genuine, you could tell it was, this one was just different.

It was crinkly eyes and shining white teeth. It surprised you that it didn't even seem unfamiliar to you; how long had he been smiling at you like this? And you had just normalized it?

You guessed you didn't have a direct comparison but still-

You smiled back (maybe just as bright, you weren't sure) and gently waved.

Watching him laugh a little and shake his head (like he couldn't believe you were waving at him?), your eyes darted to the ever-so-slight pinks of his ears.

Before you could think about it, Maggie said something to grab his attention (eyes stuck to you before snapping to her), and they were both on the way to your side. Something worried in Rick's eyes, you felt some guilt coil into your stomach; what had Maggie said?

You couldn't ask about it before he was already at your side, hands itching to fuss over you -you could tell. He seemed to let them win.

"Maggie said ya got a headache?"

Right, it was a sort of offhand remark to Maggie. And it was hurting, the sun even stung your eyes a bit. But he left that conversation (obviously very important) because you had a headache?

The gears in your head were turning, and Maggie seemed to watch them -eyes stuck to your face. You couldn't believe it yet, there had to be a reason.

"Rick," you started, "-it's fine. It's minor, had it since I woke up this morning, I can-"

His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes gleamed with concern, hands coming to rest on your arm, "Ya had it since 'is mornin'?"

Shit.

"Yeah," you answered, still trying to fight your case, "-but really, Rick, it's nothing. I can manage-"

"Ya should go rest," he interrupted, taking Judith from your arms, "-least til' it gets a lil' better. 'S hurtin' your eyes, I can tell."

How did he know that?

"Rick, seriously-"

"I'll take ya home," he hummed, carefully, "-and I'll come back in an hour to check on ya-"

"Rick," you tried again.

"-Get some medicine from the doc', and bring it to ya myself," he finished, something in him decided.

You pursed your lips, trying a different angle, "Shouldn't you be getting back to Deanna?"

"She can wait," he responded, simply.

"Well," you frowned, "-it has to be important, I don't want to-"

"'S not as important as you."

The words faltered in your throat, and Maggie looked at you in a way that you could hardly grasp. Mouthing 'I told ya so', you thought on it. Maybe he was just concerned, I mean one thing-

And then, his hand came to rest on your lower back, guiding you home, and your brain promptly turned off.

Ever since that conversation, you'd been trying to reason. Keeping watch on your interactions with Rick (he did always smile at you like that, fyi), you were trying to rationalize it. Give it a reason. Other than what Maggie, and others, said, but it started stacking up.

It was a dreaded day, laundry day. And out of the cycle, it was your turn.

Sometimes, the people of Alexandria would just air dry their clothes for conservation reasons, really. And every time, there was someone assigned the duty. A little like how the meals were made, and someone had to help Carol -not that she'd ask for it. She was a little stubborn like that.

That being said, no one, and you mean no one, liked to do laundry. Specifically, because you had to get up early (to make sure you got all the sun power you could), and it took hours. Especially on your own.

You basically crawled out of bed at 4, maybe 5, in the morning. Still in your pajamas, you stalked through the streets of Alexandria -dragging your feet a little, you won't lie. Making your way over to the air drying area, you pulled out all the baskets and placed them along the ground -organized. It was probably the only time you ever really were these days.

Putting your hands on your hips, you let out a big, long sigh.

"Well," you tried to smile, still so asleep that your voice was cracking, "-the sooner I start, the sooner the hell ends."

Before you could even grab a single piece of clothing, a voice interrupted you -low in drawl like maybe he had just woken up.

"Ya need some help?"

Your eyes shot to him and something in your chest fluttered, stirring in your stomach. Rick was still in his pajamas (plaid pants low, and a plain t-shirt), eyes still heavy with sleep like maybe he'd just woken up too, and his hair probably the messiest you'd ever seen. There was a curl hanging in front of his head, you got the urge to fix it.

And maybe it was because you were half awake, but you did. The smile he got on his face after made warmth shoot to your toes -all dopey and sleepy. You kind of just wanted to gather him up in your arms, and maybe fall asleep on his chest (woodsy smell and body warmth). Luckily, that urge didn't come to fruition.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "What the hell are you doing up this early?"

Not only was it odd that he was up this early, but like you said no one likes laundry duty. So why was he offering to help at all? If he had duties this early, shouldn't he be going and doing them? Why-

"'Eard it was your turn," he spoke, low and gravelly (you had no idea how to handle that), "- an' wanted to help ya."

You pressed your lips together, mind chiming 'wrapped around your finger'.

No one likes laundry duty.

"Thank you, Rick, but-" you started, "-I can tell you're still tired and I know for a fact you have a lot to do later today, so-"

"Nothin' to do," he hummed, wiping at his eye. Cute.

That had to be a lie.

"Asked Deanna for a break," he clarified, looking at you a certain type of way, "-Needed one anyway, thought I'd help ya."

"You're," you sputtered, a little in disbelief, "-You're taking a break day to help me with laundry? It is so much work-"

"Won't feel like work if I'm wit' ya."

Good god. Was he always this sweet? You couldn't have been that oblivious. Seriously.

"Guess I could use some company," you muttered, a little flattered but you tried to hide it. Rick just smiled at you in a way that made your breath hitch in your chest, you wavered on your feet.

"But, seriously," you added, "-if you need to take a break, on your break day, let me know, I'll-"

"'S long as you're workin'," he smiled, big and bright, "-I'm workin'."

"Is that," you laughed a little, "-Is that your way of making me take a break?"

He smiled differently then, mischievous, "Maybe."

You bit your lip and decidedly turned to the baskets, "Let's get to work then, Grimes, the faster we start, the faster we're done."

He joined your side, close enough to touch, it made your head spin a little. Before speaking, low like maybe a mutter, and maybe even nervous-

"Ya mind if I stick by ya for the day? 'Ve got nothin' else to do, figured I'd just be wit' ya. If 'at's alright?"

Good god.

You swallowed, blinking, but not quite turning to him, "Of course, you... Yeah, of course. I mean, I might have more chores-"

"I don't mind," he hummed, gentle, already hanging up something -not looking at you, "-'s long as it's wit' ya."

You blinked, damp shirt in your hands, just staring at him. Watching as he carefully clipped up the clothes, big hands ever-so-gentle like he didn't just drop probably the sweetest thing you'd ever heard. Genuinely too.

Shit, maybe they're onto something.

You decided to ask around.

"Honest question, Carol," you hummed, thumbing through a few of the ingredients. It was your day to help her, it's probably one of your favorite chores. You really enjoyed her presence, she was a close friend. Long story short, you trusted her judgment.

She hummed, gently grabbing one of the ingredients.

"This may sound so stupid, just know that I'm acknowledging that," you clarified, now looking at her, "-but do you think Rick is into me?"

Carol paused a moment, trying to decide how to react maybe, and you could already see her reaction. She was just a little too polite to say it instantly.

"Shit," you muttered, "-really?"

She pursed her lips, looking at you with a little pity almost, "'Fraid so. It's..."

She fell silent for a second, you just watched -patiently.

"-Everyone knows," she continued, hesitantly (like maybe she didn't want to embarrass you), "-Rick... I think he's been into you since the prison."

"The prison?" you nearly exclaimed, stalling in place. No way, "-what did he-"

"Remember the week 'at you were sick?"

Right, you'd been a little delirious from something. Maybe a little more than a cold? Nothing super serious, you remember Hershel telling you that but you had to rest. He was pretty sturdy on that. Turned out you couldn't have been doing anything, it made you feverish and nearly sleeping all the time-

"Ya ever wondered who took care of you?" she questioned, directly.

"No," you laughed, "-it was Hershel, he was the medic-"

"You sure?" Carol countered, eyes peeking at you -leveling a stare, "-He was feeding you, gettin' ya water? Stayed by your bedside?"

You faltered, something in you twisting, "Carol."

You'd remembered something like Rick feeding you, bites extended forward, and maybe the low timber of his voice. You'd just thought it was you being delirious; you had a thing for him, so you just-

"Carol," you repeated.

"He was there every day," she clarified, turning to the other side of the kitchen, "-as far as I know, he only left to do farmin' and see Carl or Judith. If you seemed to get worse, he got Hershel. But... otherwise..."

"Carol."

"None of us said anythin'," she added, busying her hands, "-because he didn't. 'At was his thing, it wasn't our place."

"For all this time?" you scurried to her side -hanging on to every word she said.

"Well," she sighed, turning to you fully now, "-we kinda figured he'd say something by now."

"God," you groaned, throwing your head into your hands, "-I have to be the dumbest person on the planet."

"To be fair," Carol soothed, "-ya didn't know."

You couldn't look Rick in the eyes for the rest of the day, or maybe you stared at him a lot more. It was all so confusing.

You decided then and there, that you'd try the most trustworthy person. The one who wouldn't lie to you, a little because he respected you too much. It did help that he was most definitely Rick's best friend.

"Hey, Daryl?"

You'd arranged a run with a few newcomers, and frankly made Daryl come because you wanted to have this conversation.

He didn't speak, just sort of grunted. It tracked.

"You're probably the most honest person I know," you cleared your throat, "-and I am pretty desperate at this point for just... honesty."

He turned to you fully then, something like concern in his eyes. The guy was truly a softie at his very core, you probably treasured your friendship the most out of everyone but it was a close call.

"Everythin' alright?"

You pursed your lips, "Yeah, yeah, don't worry. It's a... probably stupid thing actually."

He kept walking forward through the aisles of the store you were in, stashing away some essentials. You were doing the same, well, you were trying to.

"Stupid thin'?" he asked, not looking at you.

"Yes, it's dumb as hell, frankly," you laughed a little, "-but I just... I guess I want to know the extent of it."

Daryl turned to you, eyebrows furrowed together, "What the hell are ya talkin' 'bout?"

"Rick," you answered, and he seemed to take a second at the name, "-Is he really into me? Like everyone seems to believe?"

He didn't answer at first, just simply turned back to the canned foods, "Carol tell ya 'bout the prison? When ya were sick?"

"Yes," you swallowed.

"Ya should know the answer to 'at then," he spoke -gruff and straightforward.

"Well," you tried to argue, "-it's hard to understand it. I just... I don't know."

Daryl said nothing, walking forward through the aisle. You followed him, keeping your eye out for more that he hadn't grabbed. And for a moment, you thought he wasn't going to say anything else.

Suddenly, he spoke up, "He can't focus when you're on runs. Deanna 'ates it."

You opened your mouth to ask just how he knew that, but he interrupted you.

"She complains," he clarified, before asking, "-Ya ever wonder why ya barely get put on runs? When everyone else is goin' in a cycle?"

"I..." you paused, mulling it over. When was the last time you were organically on a run? You'd arranged this one-

"Deanna don't put ya on 'em," Daryl explained, turning to you with some canned food in his hand, "-'cause she kno's Rick'll be useless. He'd be waitin' at the damn gate if he could."

You tried to speak, but he continued.

"He always asks someone ya were out wit' to keep an eye on ya. And 'en, when ya come back, asks 'at same person if ya got hurt at all. Scratches, cuts, if ya tripped probably-"

You didn't say a word.

"-I kno' 'cause I've been 'em," he clarified, and you were wordless.

You took a deep breath in, good god.

"So yea'," he answered finally, "-he's into ya."

And then, he moved forward and didn't say another word. He didn't really have to though.

You'd even watched this time, keeping an eye on Daryl and where he went after coming back from the run. And sure enough, Rick waltzed up to him like it was the most normal thing in the world. You imagined you knew the conversation.

Yeah okay, your mind chimed, he has a thing for me.

The thing was, he might've been hesitant but you sure as hell weren't going to be. You might warm him up a little bit though, maybe just for a little fun.

He was wearing a new shirt. Kind of weird for you to notice, but it was the apocalypse, everyone wore the same thing so often that it melded with them in your mind. You could still vividly picture what Rick looked like at the prison and sure, maybe that was for more reason than just that, but still.

You went a little on autopilot. Call it confirming what you already knew, basically. Or, at least, that's what you'd tell yourself.

Upon closer inspection, you noticed the collar of his (new) flannel was askew -just a little. Bingo.

You waltzed up to him and Deanna with no particular air of anything. Just normal, you wanted to see it for yourself really (the laundry thing was very telling, but you wanted to see the little things). Rick stuttered to a stop, words halting in his throat when you showed up, and your heart flipped in your chest. Stay focused.

"Hey, sorry," you apologized, genuinely (well, kind of), "-I just gotta-"

Carefully, you straightened out his collar.

You felt his eyes on you the whole time (just staring), it made your heartbeat pick up a little bit but, luckily, he couldn't quite see that.

"-There," you cheered, just a tiny one, and you saw a dopey sort of smile spread across his lips (it made you feel warm down to your toes).

You pat his chest once, feeling his body heat thrum against your hand -eyes connecting to his, "Like the new shirt, by the way."

He looked at you in a way that somehow seemed familiar but you'd never really noticed. You'd been noticing a lot more recently, to be fair.

With one last apology (eyes dashing to Deanna, who in retrospect looked a little annoyed), you politely made your exit.

Finding anywhere to go, you spotted Maggie -who was already looking at you.

Shit.

She approached you before you could go anywhere else, and you readied yourself for the onslaught.

"What was that?" she asked, carefully.

You resumed your step, maybe with a little too much pep, "His collar was messed up. I fixed it."

"No, no," she followed your lead, perfectly in time, "-you... you're doin' somethin', what are you doin'?"

"I'm not," you answered -plainly.

Maggie, frankly, didn't believe you (obviously).

You weren't sure what you were waiting for, maybe for him to realize? You knew you could've just told him yourself, and you really were going to... but every time you tried to walk up to him, your throat just clogged up. He would look at you that way (all dopey and sweet and affectionate) and you just-

God, you were useless.

It was late, way too late for you to be up (you should clarify), but you just couldn't sleep. You weren't entirely sure what it was, but at the same time, you knew exactly what it was.

Every day that you didn't tell him was another day wasted. It was the apocalypse. Every day was numbered, and you could be gone at any moment and there was no time to waste. But, you tried and tried and tried. It just wouldn't come out. You weren't sure why.

You groaned, pulling your pillow over your face for a moment. You had things to do tomorrow, couldn't you just have this crisis later-

And then, there was a knock.

Pausing, you waited a moment just to see if it was even real.

Knock.

It was a strong one too, maybe a little desperate, and fear shot through your spine. Before you could think too hard, you scrambled out of your bed -the chill of the night seeping into your skin. Your mind was in one lane, survival. Someone was probably hurt, something was happening-

With shaky hands, you pulled open your door, words on the edge of your tongue-

"Rick?"

He was standing at your door, hair mussed and in his pajamas (still the low-hanging plaid pants, you noted). You let yourself look at him a moment, taking in the domestic view of Rick you'd only seen once before. Seeing him like this almost made you forget your worry, but it still struck a cord in your chest.

You frantically searched over him (looking for wounds or blood), "Shit, are you alright? Did you g-"

"I'm okay, I'm okay-" he moved his hands to your shoulders, and your mouth snapped shut, "-Everythin's fine, darlin', relax."

"God," you let out a breath, centering yourself, "-you scared the shit out of me."

Rick smiled at you a certain type of way then, sleepy and still with that little glint, and let out a low sort of chuckle. Hair all mussed and eyes half closed, it might've been the cutest thing you'd ever seen.

"Sorry," he smiled at you, something twinkling in his eye, "-didn't mean to scare ya."

You waved it off, before falling a little more serious, "If there's nothing wrong, why are you here, Rick?"

He seemed to take a pause. Eyes flickering all over you, a bit in reverence. It made you either what to throw up or faint, you weren't totally sure which one.

"Are you-" you spoke, carefully, "-Are you emotionally okay? Do you need me to-"

"I need ya."

You faltered, barely digesting, "Need me to what? Whatever-"

"No," he clarified, something in his eyes, "-I just need ya."

"What?" you asked -half awake, and unsure if he was saying what you thought he was.

"Y/N," he started, eyeing your now connected hands, "-I want... Shit, I need ya wit' me."

"Rick," you spoke, softly, "-what are you talking about?"

"I'm tired of not bein' wit' ya-" he spoke, like it took everything in his body to say it -a little like he was pleading with you.

It felt like your breath was knocked out of your lungs, and your heart was coughing up your throat. You felt totally and completely numb, all you could do was look at him.

He continued, eyes turning to match yours and grabbing your hands, "-I'm tired of missin' ya like a limb when you're standin' two feet away, I'm tired of always wishin' ya were closer, I'm tired of not tellin' ya 'at I think you are everythin' to me, I'm... I'm tired of it."

"Rick," your eyes were getting foggy.

"Darlin', I-" he let out a long breath, "-I can't do it anymore. I feel like I can't breathe without ya near me-"

"Rick."

"-Ya gotta understand 'at I-" he looked down (a little like the words were stuck in his throat), "-I... I can't function without ya. 'S like you're a piece of me 'at's just constantly missin' and it don't 'ave to be."

"Rick," you tried again.

"Y/N, I've-" he stuttered a second just looking at you, "-I've never felt 'is way 'bout anybody. An' I don't... I'm not even sure what to do 'bout it- I can't even think straight when you're gone, it... it stops everythin'-"

"Rick," you repeated, but there wasn't a lot of will behind it.

"Because 'ow am I supposed to be me without ya?"

You swallowed, heavily, eyes flickering all over him -maybe a little in reverence too. It felt like this was all a dream, and maybe this was exactly what you wanted him to say. Only one thought was rattling through your head, and you couldn't shake it, you're not sure you wanted to-

You spoke, breathless and maybe a little teary, "Rick, I love you."

Rick smiled at you so brightly that your knees felt a little weak, and your heart stuttered in your chest. God-

"You-" you laughed a little then, hands coming up to brush along his face (touching what you had longed to for so long)"-you're unbelievable. I couldn't even wrap my head around the thought that you could be into me-"

He just watched you, something shiny in his eyes (you couldn't tell if it was feelings or tears).

"-God you should've seen me. I asked like everyone in Alexandria," he laughed a little, and you gleamed, "-And... And I found out about so much that you've done for me. And you took a day off to do laundry with me-"

He laughed again, "Guess 'at made it pretty obvious, huh?"

"That, and-" you smiled at him, pushing some of his curls back out of his face, "-caring for me in the prison-"

He pursed his lips at that, maybe expecting you to never know. It didn't seem like he could stop looking at you though.

"-and you know what, not being able to focus when I'm gone on runs is pretty incriminating-"

He leveled the same look, and you could see his ears go pink. Cute.

"-or maybe," you continued, looking at him in a way that you hoped he understood (you were desperate for him to), "-when you dropped an obviously important conversation because I had a headache."

He just smiled at you, all dopey and affectionate. It made warmth bloom through your chest. Love, love, love-

"If it ain't obvious," he started, just staring, "-I love ya too. More than what I kno' what to do wit'."

You grinned at him, teasing, "Really? 'Couldn't tell."

He rolled his eyes at you, but was smiling so bright you couldn't take it seriously, "Ya gonna be like 'is now?"

"Oh, yeah," you answered, "-now I know just what you've done for me, and for how long. You're toast."

"Ya act like 'at's all I 'ave done," he countered, maybe smirking a little.

"It's not?" you asked, genuinely curious.

"No," he laughed, "-I was desperate for ya. For a long time. I did a lot to just be by your side, not countin' what I did for ya."

"Well," you smiled, moving your hands to curl into his hair, "-you'll just have to tell me sometime."

"Maybe," he hummed at the motion, and grinned at you, "-but the list is only bound to get longer. Might take forever."

"You know what, Grimes," you laughed, but you were genuinely, "-I think I can do forever."

"Me too," he grinned even brighter, eyes dashing along your face, "-as long as it's with ya."

Yeah, you thought to yourself (and maybe kissed the life out of him), I can definitely do forever.

[thewickedjazzy]

‟𝓢𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓸𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓭, 𝓝𝓪𝓴𝓪𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪?”➵ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴍᴅɴɪ

➵𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼: Chuuya x f! reader.

➵𝓢𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂: Enemies to Fuckers Lovers? it's been two years since you joined the port mafia and chuuya still gives you the cold shoulder like you’re some sort of personal vendetta. confused, you finally mustered up the courage to ask him straight up why he’s been acting like a dick? What’s his deal with you?

➵𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 : NSFW mdni 8.9k of pure filth, smut with plot, oral (both giving and receiving) kinky sex, profanity, taboo sex, hatesex, unprotected sex, multiple creampies, multiple orgasms, standing sex, public sex, impact play, dirty talk, sweaty sex, cum visuals, risky sex, hand bondage/restrains, face-fucking/both of you, reader begging, multiple positions, also small font, I guess that's it? *phew*.

You sat at your desk, arriving earlier than anyone else in the mafia, as was your habit. You needed the quiet, the solitude, to unwind before the day’s chaos began. You held your favourite coffee cup, inhaled the rich aroma, and sighed. How long has it been? Two years, four months, and six days... yeah. When would you ever stop counting the days you've been single?

There was a strange duality to it. You hated and loved being single, a paradox you couldn't escape. You despised how your body ached for physical touch for intimacy, yet you relished the freedom of not being tied down to anyone. Maybe it was the aftereffect of that toxic, possessive relationship you barely escaped. But, oh, how you longed for the warmth of another human’s touch.

You've had your share of one-night stands in the past, long before your first real relationship. They were empty, fleeting encounters that left you feeling hollow. So, you stopped, refusing to return to that endless cycle of meaningless desire. Yet, lately, the thought of going back crossed your mind. But the idea of being satisfied by just any random man no longer appealed to you. It was a dilemma you couldn’t seem to resolve—a yearning for connection that couldn't be fulfilled by just anyone.

As you sipped your coffee, lost in your thoughts, the door to your office creaked open. You glanced up, and there he was—Chuuya Nakahara, the one person whose presence you both dreaded yet expected. He walked in with that usual air of authority, his expression already bordering on annoyance.

He handed you a file, his eyes narrowing slightly as he did so. "Good morning," he muttered, his tone curt, before turning on his heel to leave.

You watched him with irritation and confusion bubbling up inside you. Chuuya was one of the few people in the mafia who didn’t seem to act normal around you. Everyone else kept their distance, thanks to Mori’s strict orders. Your attractiveness had made you untouchable, quite literally. No one dared to look your way, let alone flirt with you. But Chuuya? He was different.

"Why does he hate me so much?" You wondered, frustration gnawing at you. You couldn't recall a single interaction between you two that didn't end in some form of argument or cold standoff. Working with him was a nightmare, a constant clash of wills that left you drained.

You opened the file he handed you, trying to push thoughts of him out of your mind. But it was no use; the way he acted, the way he seemed to go out of his way to be difficult, it all kept nagging at you.

As you tried to focus on the task at hand, you couldn’t help but wonder—was it really hatred he felt toward you, or was there something more hidden beneath that tough exterior?

The day passed in a blur of paperwork and meetings, with no further interactions between you and Chuuya. You crossed paths once, briefly, neither of you saying a word, just a cold exchange of glances before moving on. The tension between you two was palpable, but neither of you made any effort to break it.

As the evening set in, you stepped out of the mafia headquarters and onto the pavement, waiting for your chauffeur. The city was settling into its usual nighttime rhythm, the hum of distant traffic filling the air. You absentmindedly watched the railway, your mind drifting as you pulled out a cigarette. But before you could light it, you felt a few drops of rain on your hand. You sighed as you opened your umbrella with one hand while continuing to fumble with the lighter in the other.

After several failed attempts, you cursed under your breath, frustration getting the best of you. Just then, a flicker of light appeared in front of your face. It wasn’t your lighter. You looked up, surprised to see Chuuya standing beside you, holding out his lighter. His expression was as unreadable as ever, though there was a hint of annoyance in his eyes.

You leaned in, the tip of your cigarette meeting the flame. Taking a slow drag, you felt the warmth of the smoke fill your lungs as you watched Chuuya put his lighter back into his pocket, rolling his eyes as if lighting your cigarette was the last thing he wanted to do. He turned his gaze away, clearly disinterested.

You slipped your useless lighter into your pocket, holding your cigarette between your burgundy lips.

“Thanks,” you muttered, your voice nonchalant before taking another drag.

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence, the only sound being the soft patter of rain against the pavement. You wondered what had prompted him to offer you a light. Was it just a reflex, a simple act of decency? Or was there something more behind it? Whatever it was, you knew better than to dwell on it.

You stood there under your umbrella, cigarette in hand, your gaze drifted back to Chuuya. He was waiting for his chauffeur as well, standing just a few feet away under his own umbrella. You couldn’t help but admire his features—the sharpness of his azure fox-like eyes, the softness of his lips, the perfect angles of his cheekbones. There was no denying that he was attractive, irritatingly so.

But the admiration quickly turned into something else—annoyance, frustration. Ugh, you hated him. No matter how attractive he was, that didn’t change the fact that you despised everything about him. The way he always seemed to be annoyed with you, the way he acted as if you were a thorn in his side.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize how long you had been staring until Chuuya suddenly turned and caught you. His sharp eyes locked onto yours, and for a brief moment, neither of you moved. Then, his expression hardened, and he glared at you with that familiar look of irritation.

You rolled your eyes, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had caught you off guard. You took another drag of your cigarette, trying to act as if you hadn’t been caught staring. But you could feel the tension in the air, thick and almost palpable.

He didn’t say anything—just continued to glare at you, as if daring you to make the first move. But you refused to play his game. Instead, you looked away, focusing on the rain that continued to fall around you.

As the silence stretched on, you couldn’t help but break it with a hint of annoyance in your voice. “Something on your mind, Nakahara?” His persistent stare felt intrusive, and you were fed up with the unspoken tension between you two.

Chuuya shifted his gaze forward, ignoring your question. His expression remained set in a scowl, the kind that suggested he was as tired of the situation as you were. He didn't bother responding, choosing instead to focus on the approaching headlights of his own chauffeur's car.

The lack of response only fueled your irritation. “Seriously, you’re just going to stand there and glare at me without saying a word?”

He finally turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours with an exasperated look. “I’m not in the mood for conversation,” he said tersely. “And clearly, neither are you.”

You bristled at his words, the tension between you both palpable. “If you’ve got something to say, just say it. Or at least stop making it so obvious you can’t stand being around me.”

Chuuya’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t respond immediately. The rain continued to fall, the noise around you becoming a backdrop to the uneasy silence that had settled between you. Finally, he gave a curt nod, his voice low. “Whatever you think, just… keep it to yourself.”

Before you could retort, his chauffeur's car pulled up beside him, and he turned away, his demeanor shutting down the conversation. “Good night,” he muttered, stepping into the car without a backward glance.

As Chuuya’s car pulled away, you were left standing in the rain, feeling irritated. The brief encounter had done nothing to resolve the tension between you two; if anything, it had only deepened it.

You took one last drag from your cigarette before tossing it onto the wet pavement, letting the rain extinguish its smoldering end. You huddled under your umbrella, watching the darkening cityscape with a sense of disillusionment.

Minutes later, your own chauffeur's car arrived. You slid into the backseat, your mood sour and your thoughts swirling. The car's interior was a stark contrast to the damp chill of the evening—warm, dry, and oddly comforting. But even as you settled into the plush seat, your mind was still fixed on Chuuya.

"Why did he always act like that?" You constantly wondered, replaying the conversation in your head. It was clear he had some sort of issue with you, but what was it? The unspoken animosity between you was as frustrating as it was inexplicable.

The days following your brief interaction with Chuuya fell back into the familiar routine of terse exchanges and cold silences. The only time you and Chuuya spoke was during the occasional meetings or when you had to pass on files or reports. Those interactions were always brief and professional, but the underlying tension remained an unspoken barrier between you two.

The afternoons were typically consumed by paperwork. As one of the most trusted executives in the mafia, you were no stranger to the piles of reports, updates, and various documents that demanded your attention. Yet, there were always certain documents that Mori seemed to insist you stay away from, and despite your best efforts, you never quite understood why. It was an irritation that lingered in the back of your mind, adding to the daily grind.

One afternoon, as you sifted through a particularly dense stack of paperwork, you heard a knock at your office door. Tachihara, one of the trusted members of the organization, stood there with a polite bow. His presence was a welcome break from the monotony.

You looked up from your paperwork, surprised by Tachihara's visit. You hadn’t expected to be summoned by Mori, especially given how preoccupied he seemed lately with various secretive matters.

“Boss is waiting for you in his office,” Tachihara informed you, his tone respectful but direct. You nodded, setting aside the papers and straightening up.

“Thank you, Tachihara-kun” you replied, rising from your desk. You adjusted your skirt and smoothed out your appearance before making your way to Mori’s grand office.

As you walked through the maze of corridors leading to the boss’s office, you couldn’t shake the sense of unease. Mori’s meetings were often shrouded in mystery, and you never quite knew what to expect. When you finally reached his office, you took a deep breath before knocking on the door and waiting for permission to enter.

“Come in,” Mori’s voice called from within, and you opened the door, stepping inside.

Mori sat behind his imposing desk, his demeanor calm and collected as always. The room was richly decorated, with dark wood furniture and a few select pieces of art that spoke to his refined tastes. He looked up as you entered, his expression unreadable.

“My dear, please, have a seat,” Mori said, gesturing to the chair across from him. You settled into the chair, maintaining a professional posture as you awaited his instructions.

“I have a special assignment for you. It’s both simple and complex, and I need someone with your skills and discretion.” he said casually.

You nodded, bracing yourself. “What’s the mission?”

Mori leaned forward slightly, his hands steepled in front of him. “There’s a rising criminal organization that’s been making waves. We need to infiltrate them and obtain some critical information. The task is straightforward—get the information and report back.”

You listened attentively, already mentally preparing for the infiltration process. But then Mori dropped a bombshell. “Your partner for this mission will be Chuuya Nakahara.”

Your heart sank. Chuuya was, without a doubt, the most difficult person to work with in the mafia. The constant friction between you two was practically irritating, and the thought of being paired with him on a covert mission was daunting.

“Chuuya?” you echoed, trying to keep the disbelief out of your voice. “Are you sure about this?”

Mori’s expression remained inscrutable. “Yes. He’s one of the best we have, and his skills will be invaluable for this mission. I trust you both to handle it.”

Before you could voice more objections, Mori continued, “There’s another aspect to this mission. You’ll need to deliver a copy of the information to Dazai.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Dazai? But he’s—”

“—with the agency, yes,” Mori interrupted. “However, the Port Mafia and the Armed Detective Agency are temporarily joining forces for this mission. It’s a strategic alliance, and Dazai will be the point of contact on their end.”

The mention of Dazai brought a flood of questions to your mind. You had heard his name in passing but knew very little about him. The thought of meeting him, combined with the fact that you had to work with Chuuya, was overwhelming.

“Can you tell me more about Dazai?” you asked, hoping Mori might elaborate.

Mori’s gaze turned distant for a moment before he shook his head. “I’m afraid not. What you need to know will be provided as the mission progresses. Just focus on the task at hand and coordinate with Chuuya.”

You felt a surge of frustration. “What about Chuuya and me working together? How do you expect us to manage that?”

Mori’s lips curled into a faint smile. “You both have your skills and abilities. It’s time to put them to the test. Consider this a chance to prove yourselves.”

With that, Mori dismissed you, leaving you with a heavy sense of foreboding. You rose from your chair and made your way out of his office, your thoughts racing. The mission itself seemed manageable, but the prospect of working closely with Chuuya and the unknown variables involving Dazai was already making your head spin.

You headed back to your office to prepare for the mission, the prospect of your new partnership with Chuuya hanging over you like a dark cloud. The thought of dealing with him on top of everything else was more than a little unsettling.

The next day, you met with Chuuya at the designated briefing point. His usual stoic expression never left his face, and you braced yourself for the inevitable tension.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, barely acknowledging your presence. “The sooner we get in and out, the better.”

You sighed inwardly but kept your expression neutral. “Fine."

The mission went surprisingly smoothly. The criminal organization was unprepared for the level of infiltration and precision you and Chuuya brought. You moved efficiently, gathering the necessary intelligence and completing your objectives with minimal interaction. Chuuya’s demeanor remained as distant and curt as ever, his usual aloofness never wavering. It was almost as if he were a machine, functioning solely to execute the tasks at hand.

By the time you finished, you were both back at the car Mori had sent. It was an extravagant vehicle, a sleek black limousine with tinted windows and plush leather seats. The interior was adorned with rich wood paneling and ambient lighting, making it feel more like a mobile lounge than a mere car. The ride was comfortable, but the tension between you and Chuuya was palpable.

As you settled into the seat across from him, you tried to break the silence. “You did a good job, Nakahara,” you said, aiming for a tone of genuine appreciation despite the usual friction between you two.

Chuuya’s eyes remained fixed on the window, his posture rigid. “Whatever,” he replied curtly, barely sparing you a glance.

You frowned, the audacity!! “Seriously, you can’t even acknowledge a compliment? What’s your deal?”

He turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a defensive glint. “I don’t need your praise. Just doing my job.”

You leaned forward, trying to gauge his reaction. “It’s not about needing praise. It’s about working together and showing a bit of respect. Why do you always act like this?”

Chuuya’s expression hardened, and he seemed to bristle at the question. “You think I’m just going to open up? Don’t flatter yourself.”

The defensiveness in his voice was unexpected, almost endearing in its own way. “I’m not asking you to spill your guts. I just want to understand why you’re so cold with me all the time.”

He shifted in his seat, his gaze still locked on the window but his voice softer. “I’ve got my reasons, alright? Maybe I don’t like dealing with people who make things complicated.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the hint of vulnerability in his words. “And you think I’m the one making things complicated? We’re both part of the same organization, Chuuya. We need to be able to work together without this constant friction.”

He looked at you, his eyes betraying a flicker of something—regret, perhaps, or confusion. “It’s not that simple. I don’t know how to… change things.”

“Change things?” you muttered, and he did not respond but rather shifted his focus on the cityscape beyond the car window.

You watched him from across your seat, trying to decipher the complexity behind his cold exterior.

Despite his stoic demeanor, there was a certain magnetism about him. You couldn’t ignore the effect his presence had on you—irritating, frustrating, but undeniably compelling.

As for Chuuya? he certainly didn't hate you—he’d be a fool to think that! In reality, he was drawn to every part of you. The short black skirt and sheer tights that accentuated your plush thighs seemed to torment him, despite his efforts to ignore it. The struggle was evident in the way his fingers tensed and relaxed, and the subtle clenching of his jaw—it was all a clear sign of the internal conflict he was battling.

That day, when you bent down to pick up the paper that had slipped from your file. As you leaned forward, his eyes couldn't help but follow, and that's when he noticed—today, you weren’t wearing your usual sheer tights. Instead, the lace of your black thong was clearly visible, highlighting the soft, plush curve of your butt. The sight was enough to make his cock semi-hard aching for you, his breath catching as he quickly averted his gaze, struggling to rein in the sudden, intense desire that gripped him that day.

Chuuya had to muster every bit of self-control not to reach out, not to let his fingers trace the exposed skin that teased him so relentlessly. The image of your laced thong was burned into his mind, making it impossible to focus on anything else for the rest of that day. Every time he blinked, he saw you—bent over, completely unaware of the effect you were having on him. It was driving him nuts, how effortlessly you could push him to the brink without even realizing it.

That's why he had always kept his distance, his cold demeanour serving as a shield against both his growing desire for you and the need to comply with Mori's orders—after all, disobedience would mean his head on a silver platter. Yet, the more time he spent around you, the harder it became to resist the pull. Your effortless elegance and the way you leaned forward during conversations, with your shirt casually undone just enough to accentuate your perfect breasts, only deepened his torment, making it impossible for him to focus on anything but you, you—how breathtakingly beautiful you were.

The next leg of the mission was to meet with Dazai. As you arrived at the designated location, a chic café in a quieter part of town well, technically it was below the agency's base exactly, you tried to shake off the lingering tension from your interactions with Chuuya. You were greeted by Dazai, who was waiting with a relaxed yet attentive posture.

The moment you stepped in, Dazai's eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and admiration. He swiftly approached you, a charming smile on his face. “So, you’re the renowned beauty of the Port Mafia,” he said, taking your hand in his and pressing a light kiss to it.

Chuuya, who had followed closely behind, immediately scoffed, his irritation fairly noticable as he growled. “Back off, shitty Dazai.”

You offered a brief, polite smile but said little, your focus on the task at hand. With a practiced ease, you handed over the copy of the information to Dazai. There was no need for further pleasantries or small talk; the mission was complete, and your departure was already on your mind.

After a terse farewell, you left the café, yet you wanted to know more about him. Why did they call him the demon prodigy? He looked like an angel.

Back at the headquarters, you and Chuuya were debriefing with Mori. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken tension, and as usual, Chuuya was terse and uncooperative. You handed over the details of the mission, and Mori's response was as enigmatic as ever.

"Excellent work," Mori said, though his gaze lingered on you as if gauging your reaction to the assignment. "I trust you both performed to the best of your abilities."

You nodded, and once Mori dismissed you, you left his office and made your way back to your desk. The weight of the day's events still hung over you.

Over the next few days, you threw yourself into paperwork, using it as a distraction. But the nagging thoughts about Dazai grew harder to ignore. When you finally finished your backlog of documents, you decided to act on your impulsivity.

You made your way to the Archive Storage Room on the second floor of the building. It was an area that prohibited from visit, and you were confident that you wouldn’t be disturbed. You took extra precautions, ensuring that no one was following you before entering the room.

Inside, the dim lighting and the smell of old paper greeted you. The Archive Storage Room was filled with rows of filing cabinets and dusty boxes. You approached the computer in the corner, its screen flickering to life as you powered it up.

You typed in "𝙾𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚞 𝙳𝚊𝚣𝚊𝚒" and watched as the search results loaded. The information that appeared was both astonishing and unsettling. The screen displayed details about Dazai’s criminal history—records of his rise in the underworld, his notorious reputation, and an extensive list of crimes.

Youngest mafia executive in history. Counts of conspiracy to murder, extortion, and assorted fraud. The numbers were staggering: 138 counts of conspiracy to murder, 312 counts of extortion, and 625 counts of assorted fraud, among other serious offences.

As you absorbed the details, you felt a chill. The contrast between the man you had seen and the criminal profile on the screen was jarring. Was Dazai truly as enigmatic and multifaceted as he seemed? Or was there something more sinister beneath his charming exterior?

Your thoughts were interrupted by a noise outside the room. You quickly shut down the computer, your heart racing.

You froze for a moment, listening intently to the sounds outside. It was faint but persistent, suggesting someone was approaching.

Suddenly, you noticed a door to a nearby storage room that seemed to lead somewhere different. It was marked as a liquor store room and had a password lock. You hadn't known the combination, but lucky you, the door was slightly ajar. Without thinking twice, you slipped inside, hoping it would provide some temporary refuge.

The room was dimly lit, filled with rows of bottles and crates stacked haphazardly. You stood in the middle of the room, trying to steady your breathing and listen for any signs of movement. Just as you were about to move further into the room, you felt a firm hand grab your arm and yank you backward.

A hand was pressed over your mouth, muffling your gasp. You were pulled into a tight corner of the room, hidden behind a stack of crates. Panic surged through you as you struggled.

"Shhh, you're gonna get us caught," a familiar voice hissed.

Your heart skipped a beat as you recognized the voice—Chuuya?

He kept his hand firmly over your mouth, his breath warm against your ear. You could feel the tension in his body as he pressed you back into the corner, his own form shadowy against the dim flickering light coming from the outside of the archive room.

"Don't make a sound," he murmured, keeping his voice low. His eyes darted towards the ajar door, watching for any sign of intrusion.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered fiercely, trying to keep your voice down. “And why are you hiding with me?”

Chuuya glanced around. His expression was clearly uneasy. “I was following you. I knew you’d be up to something. Mori has his eyes on you, and I didn’t want you getting into trouble. We need to get out of here before someone finds us.”

You stared at him, bewildered by his unexpected appearance and his protectiveness. “I didn’t ask for your help, Nakahara.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze scanning the room. “I didn’t ask to be put in this position either,” he muttered.

As you and Chuuya pressed against the tight corner, the proximity of your bodies intensified the tension. His breath was warm and rapid against your neck, carrying the distinct scent of alcohol—had he been drinking before following you? The dim flicker of light from outside illuminated his azure eyes, half-lidded and filled with a mixture of emotions you couldn’t quite decipher. His hands rested beside your small frame, effectively trapping you in the confined space.

The close contact made your heart race. You could feel his heartbeat pounding in sync with your own, a rhythmic reminder of just how near you were to him. His hot breath against your neck and jawline was almost too much to bear. The sensation made your stomach sink with... pleasure?

It had been a long time since you were this close to anyone, let alone someone as fucking Chuuya Nakahara. The air between you was charged, every movement of his body against yours making your cunt clench around nothing dripping with arousal—fucking get a grip! Are you really that desperate for him?

As the footsteps continued to echo outside, you remained still, acutely aware of every sensation. Then, suddenly, it registered—you felt the unmistakable bulge press against your thighs. The realization hit you like a wave, and a surge of desire took over your whole body.

Your mind was suddenly consumed by a singular, overpowering urge. Despite the circumstances and the years of walls you had both built around yourselves hating each other's guts, the thought of pressing your lips against his beautiful pink ones was almost overwhelming. The attraction, once a mere undercurrent, had become an undeniable urge that you couldn’t ignore.

Chuuya’s eyes fell to your lips, a soft pink tint colouring his cheeks—whether from the alcohol or something more. A few strands of hair stuck to his temple and forehead, damp with sweat, as his breathing grew increasingly erratic. The closeness between you, along with how delicious and obedient you looked beneath him, made every second feel like an eternity. You both knew that one move, one breath too close, could change everything.

You swear to heavens that you tried desperately to focus on anything, but the overwhelming sensation of his twitching bulge against your thighs was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

"Chuuya.." Your curiosity got the better of you, as you whispered, “Why are you protecting me?”

You shifted slightly, feeling the unmistakable pressure of his bulge growing with each passing second against your thighs.

“Shut up,” he snapped, his voice still low. Before you could react, he crushed his lips against yours, kissing you deeply and passionately, tasting every bit of you as if he wanted to savour the moment completely, to memorise how hot your lips felt between his wet ones.

His lips moved against yours with an intensity that took your breath away, his hand tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, as if he couldn’t get enough. The tension that had been simmering between you two finally erupted in this heated moment.

You could feel his body pressed firmly against yours, his heartbeat thudding wildly in sync with your own. His other hand slid down to your waist, pulling you against him. The sensation of his hard length pressed against your clothed aching core sent a shiver through you, making you beg for more, how much did you miss this? Not the touch from any other man, but a man like him.

His lips left yours only briefly, his breath ragged as he pulled back to gaze at you. His azure eyes were dark, filled with desire. His cheeks were flushed, and his usually composed demeanor had completely unraveled. “I fucking hate you so much,”

You stared at him, still breathless from the kiss, your mind reeling from the sudden turn of events. The desire that you kept buried for so long surged to the surface, impossible to ignore any longer. The way he looked at you, with such raw need despite his words, sent a jolt of heat straight to your now-dripping cunt.

“Oh...I can tell, but no matter how much you hate me, you still want this.” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but he heard you.

His lips crashed onto yours with a fervent, insatiable hunger. His kisses were wild and demanding, each one more fervent than the last, making your stomach crumble in desire, the way he sucked on your lips, titling your head to deepen the kiss, tongue darting inside your hot mouth and dancing with your own, hot saliva dripping from your lips as he continues his open-mouthed kissing, hot breaths mixed together with low whimpers.

He suddenly pulled away, breaking the intense kiss. He held up a hand, signaling for you to stay quiet as he focused on the sounds outside the liquor store room. The muffled footsteps that had been approaching earlier now moved away, growing fainter with each passing second. He strained to listen, his sharp senses alert. After what felt like an eternity, a distinct thud echoed through the room as the door to the archive storage slammed shut. Whoever had been snooping around was now gone.

“They’re gone,” Chuuya whispered, more to himself than to you, as he released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Without missing a beat, you lowered yourself to your knees before him, your eyes never leaving his. Chuuya tensed, watching your every move, he frowned his eyebrows, eyes half-lidded with desire. His usual confidence wavered for a split second, and he mumbled, “This… this is a bad idea.”

But you didn’t care. The heat between you was too much to resist, and the thrill of what you were about to do only fueled your desire. Ignoring his words, you pressed your face against his clothed cock, feeling its hardness through the fabric. You looked up at him, your eyes locking onto his as he stared down at you, his expression a betraying an overwhelming lust.

"Just let me taste you... please." Wait—did you just beg him? What is wrong with you!

“Fuck…” he cursed under his breath, his voice strained as he clenched his fists, trying to maintain some semblance of control. But the way you looked at him, your lips so close to his aching cock, the heat of your breath making him shiver, combined with your desperate, pleading tone, was more than he could bear, he just couldn't hold back.

His hips jerked slightly, a reflexive response to the heat of your breath seeping through the fabric.

You could feel his length twitch beneath the cloth, and a thrill ran through you at the power you held over him in this moment. Your fingers trailed up his thighs, brushing over the firm muscles hidden beneath his clothes, before finding the button of his trousers. You deftly undid it, feeling the tremor that ran through his body at the simple motion.

“Hmm doll..” he rasped, his voice hoarse with need. His hands twitched at his sides as if fighting the urge to reach out and grab you, to pull you even closer. “Mori would have my head on a platter. Do you really want that? You should stop—mm, fuck…”

But the way his cock strained against the fabric, begging for release, told a different story. You ignored his half-hearted protests, slipping your fingers beneath the waistband of his trousers and boxers to free him. The moment his thick, throbbing length sprang free, you couldn’t help but admire the sight before you—his flushed cock, already slick at the tip with precum, practically pulsing with the need for your touch.

Your lips brushed against the head, tasting the salty sweetness of his arousal. Chuuya groaned above you, the sound vibrating through the small room and setting your nerves on fire. His hand finally found its way into your hair, tangling in the strands as he fought to keep control of himself.

“Argh… doll,” he groaned again, but there was no longer any resistance in his tone. Only raw, unfiltered need.

You licked a slow, deliberate line from the base of his cock to the tip, savoring the way his breath hitched, his grip tightening in your hair. Then, without hesitation, you took him into your mouth, your lips wrapping around him as you sank down, taking him as deep as you could.

“Fuck! Hmmph” Chuuya cursed, his hips bucking involuntarily as you began to move, your head bobbing in a steady rhythm. The gloved hand in your hair tightened, not to push you away, but to hold you in place, as if he couldn’t bear to lose the sensation of your warm, wet mouth around him.

You could feel him trembling above you, the tension in his body coiling tighter with each passing second. His other hand came to rest against the wall, steadying himself as his control slipped further away.

Every time you glanced up at him, you saw the struggle on his face, the way his normally composed expression had completely unraveled into one of pure, desperate desire. His azure eyes, usually so sharp and focused, were now dark and heavy-lidded, consumed by the pleasure you were giving him.

“Doll…,” he gasped, his voice rough as he looked down at you, eyes blazing with more lust. “Stop looking at me like that.”

But you didn’t slow down, didn’t stop. Instead, you doubled your efforts, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked him deeper, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head with every upward stroke. You could feel him twitching in your mouth, the telltale sign that he was close, so close.

“Shit… Haah— doll, I—” Chuuya’s mere warning came out in a choked groan as his hips jerked forward, his control finally snapping. He tried to pull away, but you didn’t let him, keeping him locked in place as you took him to the hilt, swallowing around him as his cock twitched spilling out ropes of hot cum into your mouth with a ragged cry.

The taste of him flooded your senses, hot and salty, and you swallowed every drop, your tongue working to coax every last bit of pleasure from him. Chuuya’s body shuddered with the force of his release, his hand loosening in your hair as he struggled to catch his breath.

Finally, when you were sure he had nothing left to give, you pulled back, licking your lips as you looked up at him. His eyes were half-lidded, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he stared down at you, still breathless and trembling.

You grinned up at him, your heart still pounding in your chest as you savored the sight of him, thoroughly undone and utterly at your mercy. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before following me,” you teased, your voice laced with playful defiance.

He scoffed as he pulled you up to your feet, his lips crashing against yours in a heated, almost desperate kiss. His hands gripped your hips, holding you close as if he couldn’t bear to let you go. He could feel the remnants of his release still on your tongue, the taste of him mingling with the intensity of the kiss.

When he finally pulled back, his breath ragged and heavy, you thought that might be the end of it. But then his eyes darkened with renewed hunger, and you realized he wasn’t nearly done with you.

“You think I’m finished doll... hmm?” he rasped.

Before you could respond, his hand, now fully beneath your skirt, slid higher, tracing the curve of your inner thigh as he pushed your legs apart with his perfectly toned ones. The rough pads of his fingers met the delicate lace of your panties, and he tugged them down with a swift, impatient movement, letting them drop to the floor.

You gasped as his hand moved back up, fingers brushing over your aching core, slick with need. The sensation was too much, each touch sending sparks of pleasure in your stomach. His breath hitched as he felt how wet you were, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

“Fuck, doll... already s‘ wet from just sucking my cock?” he muttered against your lips as he lets out a shaky chuckle. His fingers circled your clit, teasing, before slipping between your folds, one finger then two and now three? You arched into him, your back pressing against the cold wall. His long neat bare fingers curling inside you expertly to find that spot that made your knees weak—when did he manage take off his gloves?

You bit your lip to keep from crying out, the sensation overwhelming, but he wasn't having any of it. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “Let me hear you, doll face.” he whispered, his fingers moving faster, slipping inside you with a sudden, rough thrusts. The sensation ripped a moan from your throat, and you gripped his shoulders to steady yourself, your nails digging into his white dress shirt shirt.

Chuuya chuckled, his lips brushing against the side of your neck "You smell s‘ delicious. Did you wear that perfume just to tease me, hmm?" His fingers deftly unbuttoned your shirt with one hand, his other hand continued its relentless, fast thrusts inside you. When he finally exposed your laced bra, he paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing with appreciation as he took in the sight of the perfect curve of your soft breasts. "Matching bra and panties—it's as if you're begging for it. Were you scheming something nasty in that pretty head of yours?"

He yanked the cups of your bra down, exposing your breasts to his hungry eyes. His hands were quick to follow, kneading and squeezing as his hot mouth closed around your hard nipples, sucking and nibbling with a soft whimpers indicating that he's enjoying it as well. He continued to finger you, his pace growing more insistent.

You were lost in the sensation, your head falling back as he played with your body, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. His fingers slipped in and out of you, curling just right to hit that perfect spot that made your vision blur with pleasure.

“Chuuya... please,” you gasped, not even sure what you were begging for, but desperate for more. The heat between you was unbearable, the air thick with tension and the scent of sex.

But he wasn’t done with you yet.

Without warning, he pulled his fingers out, leaving you aching and desperate for more. You barely had time to protest before he spun you around, pushing you against the cold wall causing you to gasp from the surprise switch.

His hands gripped your hips, as he positioned himself between your legs and lining himself up with your entrance, his tip pressing against your slick folds.

With one swift thrust, he buried himself inside you, filling you completely. The sudden stretch made you cry out, your head falling back onto his shoulder as the sensation overwhelmed you. He groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he began to move, each thrust deep and hard, driving you closer to the edge with every stroke.

“Fuck, you feel s‘ good, s‘ fucking tight fuck fuck-” he growled as he kissed and sucked on you exposed neck.

The sound of skin against skin echoed in the small, dimly lit room, mingling with the sounds of your moans and his ragged breathing.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Fuck! I hate you ah— so fucking much.”

His words sent a thrill of something dark and intoxicating through you, the blend of pleasure and pain blurring the line between hate and desire. You could feel him everywhere—his cock driving into you with relentless force, his breath hot against your skin, his hands roaming over your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

You were losing yourself to him, the pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable. Every thrust pushed you closer to the edge, every whispered curse and growl pulling you further into the abyss of raw, unfiltered lust.

“I hate how much I want you,” Chuuya hissed, his voice ragged with need. “I hate how fucking good you feel… how your walls tighten around my cock—ahh fuckkk.”

His pace quickened, his hips slamming into you with desperate intensity as he chased his own release, dragging you along with him. You could feel the tension building in your core, your body coiling tighter and tighter until you thought you might snap.

And then, with one final, deep thrust, you did. The orgasm surged through you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with a force that left you trembling and gasping for air.

Chuuya wasn't far behind, his own release following seconds later as he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his hot ribbons of cum shots. He held you close, his body shuddering against yours as he rode out the last waves of his orgasm.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the harsh, ragged breathing of the two of you, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex. Chuuya stayed inside you for a moment longer, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.

When he finally pulled out, you both were left panting and spent, your bodies trembling with the aftermath of your intense orgasm.

he didn't waste a moment. With a swift motion, he lifted you up as if you weighed nothing and placed you onto one of the crates. The cold metal pressed against your hot bare skin.

Before you could catch your breath, he reached up to his neck, unfastening the choker that adorned his neck. Without a word, he grabbed your wrists and wrapped the choker around them, securing it tightly before locking you against another one of the crates behind you.

A wicked grin spread across his face as he dropped to his knees, his eyes dark with hunger while he looked up at you. He spread your thighs wider, his gaze fixed on your glistening core. The sight of you, flushed and dripping with the evidence of your shared passion, seemed to drive him wild. He leaned in, and just as his lips brushed your sensitive skin, he muttered, "Give me another one, I'm not letting you leave without drawing every tiny bit of you sweet cum."

Then, his mouth was on you, hot and relentless. You gasped as his tongue traced a path along your plush folds, teasing, tasting, savouring the mix of you and him. His hands slid up your thighs, holding you in place as he delved deeper, his tongue flicking and swirling in a way that made your head spin.

“Chuuya…t‘ much” you moaned as your hips bucked against his mouth despite your overstimulation. The sound of your own voice, desperate and breathless, echoed in the small room, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was the incredible sensation of Chuuya’s tongue, expertly working you towards another peak.

He hummed in delight, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure straight to your core. His tongue moved with precision now, alternating between soft, teasing licks and deep, penetrating thrusts that left you a trembling mess. He knew exactly how to push you to the brink, then pull back just enough to leave you aching for more.

“Fuck, you taste even better like this,” he growled against your flesh, his voice low and rough, filled with raw desire. He licked a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, before capturing the sensitive bundle of nerves between his lips. The sensation was overwhelming, your body arching off the crate as you cried out in pleasure.

“please Chuu—ahh…” you let out a lewd moan, your voice hitching with every flick of his tongue. The need for release was a burning ache in your core, your body trembling as the pressure built higher and higher.

Chuuya’s grip tightened on your thighs, his nails digging into your flesh as he held you in place. “I want to taste every drop of you. I'm not stopping until you come all over my face.”

His words, coupled with the relentless attention he lavished on your clit as you gasped, your body arching against the restraint as you instinctively pushed yourself against his hot tongue. The crate you were bound to groaned under the pressure, and with a sharp pull, it slid forward, causing a cascade of bottles to crash to the ground. The noise was loud, shattering the stillness of the room as glass broke all around you.

The impact sent you both tumbling to the floor, your body landing hard against the cold concrete. The crate you were tied to was now stuck between the wall and a stack of other crates, trapping your stretched arms above your head in a makeshift prison. For a brief moment, panic flashed through you, but Chuuya didn’t pause. It was as if the crash had only fueled his desire.

He growled, as you flinched and tried to push yourself upward, worried that you might have hurt him or that the situation was getting out of control. But he had none of it. His grip on your hips was iron-tight, and with a fierce pull, he dragged you back down to meet his hot wet mouth once again.

“Don’t even fuckin’ think about moving away,” he hissed roughly. His breath was hot against your sensitive clit as he resumed his assault, his tongue thrusting deep inside you, tasting every inch of your dripping core.

You were helpless to do anything but succumb to the overwhelming sensation. The position was awkward, your wrists still bound to the crate, but it only seemed to heighten the intensity of the moment. The cold floor pressed against your bare legs as Chuuya feasted on you like a man starved, completely pussy drunk, lost in the taste and feel of you.

Your body trembled with each flick of his tongue, and despite the crash and the chaos around you, all you could focus on was the incredible pleasure he was giving you. Your moans filled the room, echoing off the walls as you tugged against your restraints, needing to touch him, to feel his soft ginger locks between your fingers, to touch his utterly hot body.

Your vision blurred, your body straining as the coil of pleasure tightened in your core. “Chuu… please d-don't stop… ” you begged, your voice trembling with need.

Chuuya pulled you up slightly, roughly guiding you to straddle his lap. You were positioned over him, your knees planted on the floor as you faced him. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you steady. Without missing a beat, too overwhelming by your approaching orgasm you roughly sank onto his hard cock with a moan, feeling the intensity of his renewed desire. His cock was impossibly hard again—his third time getting erect tonight, as if he hadn't felt this kind of craving in years.

“Yess haah fuck yes doll... hmm take it, just like that,” he growled, his voice a low rasp. You began to move, riding him with a fervor, squeezing the life out of his thick cock with every thrust.

His cock pulsed inside you, and you could feel every throb as you moved with the crate still precariously lodged above your head and your hands bound, you were completely at his mercy.

"Fuck— I can't get enough of this" he gasped.

His words were a mere backdrop to the sensation of his cock sliding in and out of you. Each grind was powerful, driving you to the brink of madness. His grip on your hips was possessive, pulling you down onto him with a force that made every motion even more intense.

Your legs trembled, muscles aching from the effort, as if you'd just finished a strenuous leg workout. He let out a shaky chuckle, feeling the quiver of your legs against his skin.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he lifted up a bit thrusting fast enough to make the crates shake, the remaining bottles crashing to the floor. The chaos around you seemed to enhance the wild energy between you. His hands moving to pull you down harder onto him, continuing his relentless assault on your now sore and overstimulated cunt.

You could feel the pressure building within you. The room was filled with the sounds of your desperate moans and Chuuya’s heavy breaths and lewd moans, the chaotic noise of broken bottles and the groaning crate only adding to the fevered atmosphere.

“Chuu—aaah fuck fuck fuck-” you gasped, your voice cracking as you struggled to keep control.

his hands tightening on your hips as he forced you down harder onto him. “Come all over fuckin’ my cock doll ah-,” he demanded roughly with his raspy voice cracking.

The combination of his unrelenting thrusts and the intense friction made your vision blur. You could feel the coiling pressure in your core reaching its peak once again, your body straining and trembling with need. The final push came when Chuuya’s movements grew more erratic, his grip on you tightening as he thrust into you with a force.

“Fuck fuck yes yes fuck me hard like that— don't stop please” you cried out, your voice breaking as the wave of orgasm crashed over you. Your body shuddered violently, the intense pleasure overwhelming every sense. The sensation of release seemed to go on forever, each pulse of your orgasm made your ears muffle with intense.

Chuuya wasn’t far behind. The moment he felt your juicies coat his rock-hard cock and drip onto the concrete beneath you both, he let out a loud lewd moan. His cock pulsed and throbbed inside you, each powerful spasm forcing him into an explosive climax. His grip on your hips tightened as he filled you with a forceful bursts of his cum, his breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps.

Chuuya, breath still heavy, fixed you with a wicked grin. “Seems like you could use a bit of help,” he said, his voice raspy from the intensity.

With a casual flick of his hand, he activated his gravity ability, and you felt the familiar shift in weightlessness and the red glow blinding your blurry eyes as your body was lifted off the ground. You gasped in surprise, feeling a thrill of anticipation as he gently guided you back onto the crate.

He carefully manoeuvred you into a sitting position on the crate. His touch is probably the best thing you've ever experienced in your entire life. As he adjusted you. His choker, which had been used to bind your wrists, was now in his hands. He unfastened it with deliberate, methodical movements, freeing you from the constraints.

“Better?” he asked, his tone a playful tease.

You nodded, catching your breath as you settled back onto the crate. The initial shock of the gravity shift had left you momentarily disoriented, but Chuuya’s presence was surprisingly comforting. He looked at you with a soft gaze, taking in your fuck-out appearance and the satisfied glow in your half-lidded eyes.

Chuuya’s smirk softened into a rare, genuine smile as he helped you off the crate, guiding you as you clambered down, the aftershocks of your climax still making your legs tremble slightly. His eyes remained locked on you, full of a possessive warmth.

"Careful now," he said, his voice soft but tinged with a lingering edge of command. "Don't want you falling over after all that."

You managed a shaky smile, feeling the rush of adrenaline and pleasure slowly ebbing away. Chuuya's hands were gentle as he helped you steady yourself, his touch tender despite the fierce passion that had just unfolded.

"Thanks," you breathed, finally finding your footing. "I didn't expect... well, this."

He chucked moving with a practiced ease as he pulled his pants up. He adjusted his belt, fastening it with a flick of his wrist and adjusting his choker around his neck.

You carefully buttoned up your shirt smoothing out any wrinkles trying to regain some semblance of composure, Chuuya leaned in one last time, his lips brushing against your ear. “This changes nothing,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “I still hate you.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, trying to stifle a smile. There was no heat in his voice, only a lingering tension that promised this wouldn’t be the last time you found yourselves in such a situation.

Despite his dismissive tone, Chuuya moved with surprising gentleness as he helped you out of the cramped storage room. His hands, wrapped around your waist guiding you carefully, ensuring you didn’t stumble as you both made your way back into the dimly lit corridor.

As you approached the elevator, you whispered, “Never doing this again.”

Chuuya chuckled, a low, amused sound that echoed in the quiet space. “Yeah, never,” he agreed, his tone laced with irony.

But deep down, both of you knew the truth. The words were merely a facade, a way to mask the undeniable reality that this—whatever this was—would indeed happen again. And again. And again.

NOTE: Hi, hi, my lovely pookies!! Since this fic won the poll voting, I started by publishing it first. The next one will be published *finger crossed* maybe by next Friday? if not before then, also I wanted to take a moment to thank you for all of your lovely comments and sweet feedbacks Xx. P.s : chuuya’s photo credit to @pigon_51 on Twitter / X.

➵Want more of Chuuya Nakahara?

©2024 @thewickedjazzy ─── please do not copy, translate, or post on any platform.

[famwhy]

I thought of a blurb that’s basically just reader asleep on top of Hobie when the gang (Miles, Gwen, and Pavitr) show up and are noisy asf and Hobie shushes them all but they’re confused cause they can’t see reader who’s under the blankets, until she wakes up and peeks her head out from under the blanket and everyone’s like :0 I was thinking they have like a non-public relationship so everyone in the room is shocked lmao😭 No pressure at all and no hard feelings if you can’t! Love your writing and hope you’re doing well!

You are literally just the sweetest, I appreciate everytime you come into my inbox and compliment me and the fact that you put 'love' in bold and italics? 🥰💞💞💞

Here you go, my love.

Likkle Sleepy Darling

Hobie Brown X F!Reader

Hobie Brown was normally a pretty stoic guy—straight-faced with nothing more than a smug twitch of his lips to give away any sort of expression—but, if he was being completely honest, that all fell apart when it came to you.

You, who was the beam of hope in the dark, despair-filled streets of London he inhabited. You, whose smile shined so bright, you could take out a whole army of shadows with just the stretch of your lips. You, who fit ontop of him so perfectly, you almost resembled (no, a hundred percent did resemble—) the last, missing puzzle piece to his heart as you laid against his chest, lids shut and lips parted just enough to allow air through.

His lips tugged up. You were just so cute, he couldn't resist the urge to tighten his grip around your waist and pull you further into him, allowing the blanket on top of you both to further cascade over your head—completely obscuring your sleeping form.

The moment was perfect—

"That. Was. AWESOME!"

"I know right?! We went in and destroyed doc, I almost felt bad for her."

"You know her friends call her Liv?"

—until, of course, it wasn't.

In came the rowdy group of youngens Hobie somehow ended up befriending—half-suited up as they screamed to each other in the loudest voices they just had to muster up the one time you felt comfortable enough to sleep in his arms.

Allow it, he wasn't having it.

"Ayo, you man—" his whisper came out harsh, and whatever conversation they were having halted just like that, "—'low it, shut up."

They all blinked in unison. "Huh?"

Then, Miles piped up, "what do you—?"

He stopped speaking at the same time Hobie felt pressure being pushed onto his chest from two different parts.

Looking down, the man with multiple piercings was fond to find your squinting eyes peering up at him, half-dazed in that cute, little way that screamed the love of his life like no other.

"Likkle sleepy, aren't you, love?"

A nod.

And then, a chorus of gasps all at once—all followed by—

"Huuuuuuhhhhh?"