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softaestluv · 4 months ago

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Sticky When Wet

Three times Ghost swore he hated honey with his tea and one time he admitted he couldn’t live without it.

Alpha! Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Omega! Reader

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Omegaverse, Alpha/Omega stereotypical behavior, Scenting, Angst, Miscommunications, Denial, Simon is bad at feelings, Possessive behavior, Jealousy, Size difference, Eventual smut

Pt. 1 of 4, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4 | masterlist | ao3

Black Tea.

Ghost cherished black tea more than the average person. Every morning: a fresh cup to start the day. Stressed out? A cup of plain and natural black tea would bloom deliciously in his chest. Solved most of his problems, burnt away the tension in his body.

Honey.

Ghost appalled honey more than the average person. The taste, smell, and consistency, everything about it, down to the yellow color. It was too sweet; a pungent aroma of warm sugar like butterscotch and woody cedar made him turn away in disgust. Plus, it was sticky and tacky. Clung to every surface it touched. Glued his counters and fingers in layers of goop that he struggled to scrub off.

He wasn’t one for sweets; rarely was he given the privilege of a sugary treat in his childhood. Candied items were even more rare in the military, though most luxuries were in his occupation. So, he never developed a sweet tooth; he lived without it for so long.

Instead, Simon favored bold flavors; enjoyed the rich malt of black tea. Melting bitterly on his tongue, just the way he craved. He couldn’t even imagine ruining the delectable taste of his tea with honey. Diluting the strong flavor soft and sweet.

There were few things Ghost admitted to loving in his life, but a warm cup of black tea was one he would willingly sing his love for from the top of the hills.

Why would he put artificial flavoring in it? The tea already had the perfect taste.

Ghost hated honey. Hated it even more mixed into his sacred tea. Despised the way your scent radiated it. Loathed how you reeked of sage honey and sweet tangerine. Disgusted each time he smelt your sickly sweet scent, each time you served him a tray in the mess hall stained in honey and citrus.

It ruined his food, ruined his fucking black tea. The delicacy of a pure cup ripped from his grasp the moment you started working in the cafeteria. Your scent soaked into the food, the tea—the whole fucking cafeteria. Filling his senses with warm honey, pungent even through the fabric of his balaclava, melting onto his tongue with each breath. Made his tea sweet and saccharine.

The tea bags stored in the kitchen were tainted by your scent. The only place he could enjoy a cup of tea anymore was tucked away in the barracks, stored in his room where he could peacefully escape your scent.

Even now, walking down the empty corridor to the mess hall, your smell wafted through the doors. Practically suffocating him the moment he walked through them, flooding every sense with your thick aroma. Drenching him in your warmth, clinging to his skin, and making him sticky, exactly the way he hated.

“The hell is this?” A sergeant shouted at you as Ghost walked over, tray slammed loudly against the counter.

Your head snapped up, shrinking behind your shoulders from the harsh gaze of the alpha, voice shaking lightly, “I'm sorry, sir. What’s the problem?”

“Are you stupid? Foods bloody fuckin’ cold, and you didn’t give me any bread.” Belittling tone making you flinch.

“I-I’m sorry, sir. I’ll make sure to fix this for you,” You stuttered, trembling hands scrambling to pick up the tray as his aggressive scent overtook yours.

Your own scent turned sharp, sweet smell diluted, washed away, and tainted from the other alpha’s condescending words. Shifting warmth and tangerine into sour malodorous. The putrid smell alarmed Ghost’s alpha, rumbling in his chest angrily, trying to claw its way out to comfort the omega in distress.

Ghost’s eyes zeroed in on the other alpha, the man who soured your scent. His eyes twitched in irritation, instincts just about ready to maul the threat to your contented smell.

“No. Do it fucking right from the beginning next time, omega,” The man barked, alpha voice curled around the edges of his words, causing you to fight the urge to present your neck in submission.

The use of his alpha voice had Ghost growling angrily, watching you struggle to keep your chin down made him seethe, clenching his jaw tightly.

“Oy,” Ghost snapped, both of your eyes flickering to his looming presence, “Is that any way you should be talkin’ to her, sergeant?”

The sergeant opened and closed his mouth, struggling to find the correct words as he stared at Ghost in shock. Dumbfounded.

“Huh?” He asked dripping in anger, crossing his arms over his chest disapprovingly, waiting for a response, “I asked you a fuckin’ question. Or are you the stupid one?”

“No, Lieutenant.”

The smaller alpha stammered under Ghost’s scrutiny, arrogance since dissipating from his voice and stance. Submitting to Ghost and his demanding tone like a petulant child scolded by his father.

“This isn’t a buffet. Go eat your fuckin’ cold food with a smile.”

The sergeant nodded, ducking his head in embarrassment before scurrying off like he wasn’t just brazenly scolding you. He would deal with him later during training, make him—make everyone understand that he wouldn’t tolerate that behavior.

Ghost turned his focus to you, doe eyes since widened, staring up at him with the same shock the sergeant wore.

“Thank you, lieutenant. You didn’t have to do that.”

“What? Like you were gonna fuckin’ do anything ‘bout it besides stinking the room up with distressed omega,” Simon grumbled, “Though, I guess you already do that.”

Your eyebrows furrowed together, a frown deepening on your plump lips as his words settled in. Sour scent muted into confusion, melancholic. You placed his tray on the counter, mumbling quietly under your breath as you diverted your gaze.

“Sorry about that, sir.”

Simon almost laughed as he grabbed the tray and walked to an empty table. Only he could save someone from an asshole alpha just to end up leaving the situation as the asshole. Though, he wasn’t lying; he had seen countless men scrutinizing you, and you never fucking did anything about it. Just let them walk all over you, folding under their command within seconds.

It pissed him off to watch you give in so easily. Especially when it soured your scent, filling the mess hall with distressed omega. That was almost worse than the sugared honey and citrus combination that overwhelmed his senses. Instead, it made his black tea unbearable; couldn’t even drink it as it burned his throat acidicly. Let alone be in the same room when it had his alpha unsettled, tossing violently in his chest.

Ghost didn’t understand why you didn’t fight back. Why you just let it happen when they clearly spoiled your mood, spoiled your sweet scent sour. Though, he wasn’t an omega, his natural instinct wasn’t to submit. His instinct was to challenge and battle against any authority that threatened him.

It’s not like the men in the military were astoundingly gracious anyway; most of them were pricks with too much testosterone who chose to take their anger out on the weak link, the omegas, to feel powerful. To follow and satisfy the primal hierarchy built into their genes, to make up for their lack of self-esteem.

There weren’t many omegas on base, and Simon was sure you faced most of the brute backlash from alphas. So, he took matters into his own hands, shutting down and shooing away any asshole he saw berate you. It was a known fact by now to the other men on base not to; he had made it abundantly clear that he wouldn’t allow anyone to treat you that way.

However, they were always receiving recruits, and a fresh trainee served as the perfect example for the rest of them. Before whispers were mingling between them ‘not to fuck with the pretty omega or else the lieutenant will make sure your training is a living hell.’

Besides, Ghost was only doing it because he liked his black tea without a side of distressed omega—really.

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otkuhotgirl · 11 months ago

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─── 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒 .

# with black leg sanji.

returning earlier from the crew’s usual strolling through the newest island, you’re startled to witness sanji viciously lapping his tongue at a stolen tangerine. pitying his position, you allow him to have a taste of the real thing.

⎰ & afab!reader. smut (mdni!). oral. slightly sub!sanji. he eats you out like he’s starving. no y/n used.

W.C: 3K

when you decided to announce an early retreat to the sunny, much too dizzy to withstand the island’s scalding heat and deciding the most suitable course of action would be to seclude yourself within the cooler walls of the ship, the last thing you had expected was to find sanji in such a compromising position.

minutes previous to that encounter, you were quite frustrated. the shore town was a beating heart of commerce and people, filled with opportunities to find useful acquisitions to oneself. you were looking forward to a shopping-filled afternoon; to observe nami’s wits in action — her bargaining that was nothing but diplomatic theft — and listen to chopper’s ramblings about the books he managed to find. of course, the midday sun and its ruthless warmth had ruined it all, meaning that a day of privacy with sanji was the second best thing.

he had been the one assigned to watch the ship while the rest of the crew explored the town. considering the high temperature and his never-ending will to be of use, you had no doubt that the cook could be found in the kitchen, slicing up fruits to prepare delicious cocktails. hence why you followed the scent of tangerines, growing slightly puzzled. he was one brave man — or a suicidal one, you could not quite decide — for picking up nami’s tangerines when she was not around.

you should have knocked, truly. it was a mistake not to have done so. but you hadn’t cared much for courtesies whatsoever, eager for a refreshing beverage and perhaps the chance to share a pleasant conversation with the cook.

upon entering the kitchen, you were expecting to be met with ice and diced fruit, yes, but not under those circumstances.

half a tangerine was placed on the counter, as well as a glass cup with a singular and melting cube of ice. sanji busied himself with the other half of the fruit, swirling his tongue around the middle, his chin dripping with its juice, which caused you to clench around nothing; your legs forcing together as you observed the scene without a word.

after hearing the opened door, sanji froze in place, moving his head to catch a glimpse of the intruder as though he was experiencing the most terrifying seconds of his life. his shoulders slumped with a temporary sense of relief as he noticed your figure, before his entire frame threatened to burst up in flames out of embarrassment.

you cleared your throat, forcing a rough snicker in an attempt to lighten the shared atmosphere. then, finding yourself a seat, you grabbed the tangerine with one hand, placing the other on your chin. “having fun?”

although not aflame, sanji was as red as that one clown-pirate’s nose, averting eye contact as he placed the tangerine on the sink and searched for a cigarette. it became clearer that he had no courage to meet your eyes, stressing over the consequences of that endeavor. your glance, however, was tethered to the positioning of his fingers above his half of the tangerine, noticing polished and short nails, the well maintained hands, for a cook of his caliber could not indulge in carelessness.

the saliva sent to your dried throat was a fuel to a forest fire, rather than a soothing rain to a desert. your treacherous mind flashed sinful scenarios of those fingers. your juices of pleasure tainting them, warmth enveloping its skin as he curled them close to your sweetest spot before shoving his fingers into his mouth, loyal to his personal code of never wasting any food—

“pearl of my life,” he began at last, sounding a bit hesitant, yet calmer. “i can explain.”

sanji’s voice grew rougher due to the cigarette between his lips. inhaled nicotine that traveled past his vocal chords to settle on his lungs before he expelled them through his nostrils. you found yourself at a loss for words, wondering how one could differentiate the intonation of desire from the consequential coarseness of smoking. was there even a difference? oh, how desperately you wished to find out.

the cook seemed to have misinterpreted your silence, all of the sudden growing anxious, searching for a lighter despite not having finished his first cigarette just yet. luckily, for the both of you, the oven filled in the gaps with a repetitive beep, informing that the dish he had prepared was set to be served.

the scent of one of your most favored desserts danced around the talons of smoke from sanji’s unfinished cigarette. he smashed the tip of it against the ashtray, and hid his hands from your luscious eyes with the kitchen gloves. sanji had to bend to remove the sweet treat from the oven, offering you a clear sight of his butt and the powerful muscles of his thighs, strained against the fabric of his pants. as if hypnotized, you observed, with a certain hunger — for both the dish and the cook — as he then moved towards the counter.

sanji, at last, faced you. “a bargain, mon sirène.”

you raised an eyebrow with an expression of pure confusion, having your next words swallowed by hushed explanations as sanji’s composure crumbled, no longer bearing the weight of your silence. he knelt and encapsulated your hand with his, assuming a pleading tone.

“i thought i’d have a tad more time for myself, you see. at first, i was merely preparing you something sweet, planning to welcome you back with the luxury you deserved, but then my thoughts trailed entirely to you—”

sanji cleared his throat, the gears of his mind turning as he searched for a better explanation. “we’re discovering more of the new world, and oh, my golden star of the open seas, not a thing will ever be able to diminish your brightness and influence over my beating heart—”

“sanji,” you voiced softly.

“but, you see, what if a lady ever so happens to reciprocate my passion and desires? how could i live up to what she deserves? by training, of course—”

“sanji.”

“and oh, well, i meant to prepare tangerine cocktails to ignore those thoughts. but the fruit does resemble a woman’s intimacy—”

“sanji.”

“or so i heard. from zeff. i never had the honor of verifying it myself—”

“sanji!” you interrupted his ramblings, caging his face with your hands, not at all surprised by the high temperature of his skin.

the cook was a passionate man, with a heart that had been dipped in molten gold; filled with nothing but love and the urge to please. but you hadn’t fallen prey to fantasies of his embrace due to bashful flirting, well-pondered gifts and delicious dishes. though those were of aid, sanji, while clueless, managed to become the center of your affection because of his endless kindness, the infinite will to help those in need, those alluring and prestative eyes that never failed to brighten up in your presence.

processing his previous words, and the reasoning behind the decision to train his tongue with a fruit, you felt as though a sharp blade toyed with the fragile skin of your heart. the mere thought of witnessing his care delivered to someone else — a stranger at that — was both vexing and painful. for a second, under the burning and expectation-filled glance of his, you struggled to maintain your thoughts linear. what was needed for him to keep his attention focused on you, and you alone? the answer came with such easiness that you felt a bit ashamed.

sanji squeezed your hand, as if to tether your mind to the instance at hand. with a clear of your throat, you offered him a sympathetic glance.

“i’m not zoro,” you told him, aiming for a reassuring tone. “embarrassing you for the sake of having the last word isn’t something i’m interested in. if you want me to keep this interaction a secret, i will. no bargaining needed.”

he observed you as if the moon was kept in a pendant wrapped around your neck. for a second, your very name escaped from your mind.

“i have always known that you were as kind and merciful as a heaven sent angel. i’ll make sure to return the favor.”

oh! you were surprised that he caught on your desires. sanji was observant, but you were obstinate to a fault and thought that your behavior had been one of composure. well! at least you wouldn’t have to take the first step. he’d be the one to slide down the material of your shorts and panties and guide your hand to his blonde hair and—

sanji got up and moved towards the dessert, scanning the kitchen for the scarce fine cutlery in order to serve the sweet with a noble-worthy decoration. you shoved the revolt that surged due to the distance, mouth agape in both embarrassment and bewilderment. without a second thought or an ounce of patience, you gathered up the courage to act.

“you know, sanji,” you hummed. his sudden straightened posture made you feel a bit wicked, for he behaved as though a deer caught in the woods at the intonation shift of your voice. “if you wanted to practice, you could’ve asked me.”

the cherries he was carefully piling up on the plate crumbled like a house of cards. his nervousness was palpable. sanji turned his head towards your figure, face adorned with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“mockery isn’t a kind act, my seastar,” he said, voice strained. “but i would have forgiven you for committing even the most violent crimes.”

you blinked, straightening your posture. a bit disheartened, for he seemed unable to believe that you were capable of nurturing a genuine desire for him.

“sanji, i mean it. it would be my pleasure,” literally.

sanji shifted his entire body, facing you with certain hesitation. his adam’s apple bobbed up and down as his glance trailed to your lips; then to your breasts; then glued to your crossed legs. his pupils dilated.

with careful steps, as if fearing that a sudden move would tear him from what he believed to be a dream, sanji approached you. the cook breathed in, trembling with nitid nervousness and excitement.

“how do we—should i kneel? i don’t—”

somehow, both his innocence and lack of experience managed to soothe your own nerves. although sanji seemed a wreck, your confidence grew as you tapped a finger on the dining table.

“would you mind if i sat on it?”

he flushed immediately. “what?”

sanji then noticed his error, clearing his throat and gripping a fistful of his hair with an apologetic expression, almost as if expecting a reprimand.

you merely smiled instead. “i can sit on your ‘it’ later, but you should learn the basics first.”

he nodded with fervor, observing with certain desperation as you sat on the edge of the dining table, parting your legs with ease; beckoning him closer.

sanji remained glued in place as though a statue, stunned to a fault. “would you get on your knees for me?”

his reaction was immediate, and the sound of his bones meeting the wooden surface of the ground made you wince for his sake. if the impact caused him pain, sanji didn’t express it. instead, he crawled closer, his breath fanning above your thighs.

“don’t feel forced to do it,” he stuttered at last, offering you the chance to halt.

“this is the part where you remove my shorts,” you instructed instead, and his fingers eagerly worked to unbutton the piece of clothing.

with a raise of your hips, you aided him in the task at hand, watching sanji drool at the sight of your drenched panties. it was endearing, but the lack of contact was maddening.

“you’re allowed to touch me.”

“where?”

“everywhere.”

he placed a careful hand on your thigh. with a groan, your fingers encouraged him to squeeze the tender flesh, and so he did. sanji approached your clothed cunt, his hot breath fanning above the sensible spot. you shivered in anticipation, gripping the blonde locks of his hair with non-thought strength.

before you managed to apologize for the harshness, sanji moaned, latching his mouth to your core. his tongue lapped at it as though a beast, carrying nothing but desperation, with no regards for the piece of cloth that separated you both. you let out a yelp of surprise, breathing heavily at the contact.

“sanji,” you whined, pressing his nose to your folds. “the p-panties.”

he understood it well enough, moving his face afar, nimble fingers tugging on the straps. you raised your hips to help him, and watched as sanji sniffed the material before shoving it inside his back pocket.

sanji trailed his eyes to your cunt. a broken whimper tore through his throat. “where is it?”

“what?”

he flushed, pressing one of his fingers at your slick entrance. you shuddered, and his face inched closer, a temptative kiss pressed to your middle. sanji’s visible eye caught on whatever he seemed to be searching, and his tongue followed-in-suit. he circled the muscle around your clit, slowly, as if testing out the waters.

you tugged on his hair. “faster. use your fingers as well.”

he hummed, sending a wave of vibrations through your core. an involuntary noise escaped your lips once sanji inserted two of his fingers inside. removing your hand from the one he had above your thigh, you gripped his wrist, correcting the angle.

“it’ll hurt less for you,” you explained, and sanji hadn’t even answered, too lost on your pussy to pay your words any mind. he was reacting to your instructions due to mere instinct.

sanji’s lips closed around your bud, sucking on it before he used his tongue to lap at your folds, moving it up and down. you arched your back, controlling the speed of his wrist until sanji caught on it himself, dominating the field.

as he moved his jaw, you felt the roughness of his goatee caressing your warm flesh. “scissor it.”

he obliged, alternating his movements. sanji removed his fingers until the nails, only to insert them again with your desired speed. he curled them inside, exploring your intimacy with his touch while he busied his mouth with your clit and folds.

the hand once placed on his wrist returned to the counter’s edge. you gripped it without much thought, eyes trailed to sanji’s face in between your legs. he interlocked his free fingers with yours, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your palm — aching due to your previous grip —, coating your hand with saliva as well. your juices dripped down his chin and glistened on his nose.

“don’t hurt yourself, bien-aimée,” sanji whispered, tears of glee pooling in his pleasure-wide eyes. “hurt me instead.”

you opened your mouth to retort, but the protest melted into a broken moan as sanji spat on your cunt, replacing the fingers inside with his tongue. he whimpered at the taste; his thumb drew circles around your clit, while the longer fingers busied themselves with your folds.

your legs trembled, and your fingers tightened on his hair. sanji’s mewl of pleasure lost itself within your cunt, his thumb pressing harder on your clit as he plunged his tongue deeper, angling his head as if he was trying to devour you.

“l-left,” you told him through a broken moan, seeing stars when his tongue managed to reach a particularly sweet spot.

you felt the built pressure that indicated the nearing of release. sanji parted his face from your cunt for the briefest of moments. softly, as if handling a luxurious and delicate piece of golden cluttery, sanji grabbed a fistful of your thighs with both of his hands, dragging your body closer. your back met the wooden surface of the dining table, and before you managed to ground yourself, sanji had guided your fingers back to his scalp, allowing you to force his face into your pussy.

two fingers stretched you as he bit on your clit, soothing it with his tongue afterwards. you arched your back against the table, toes curling with pleasure.

“so good,” sanji moaned with desperation, his voice mingling with the wet sound of his fingers working on your cunt.

you felt him hump against nothing, nose teasing your folds, and kicked his sides meekly, searching for his dick. sanji caressed your ankle before guiding it to rest on his shoulder.

“ma belle,” he mumbled, kissing your leg, dragging your essence through your skin. “don’t worry about me.”

he fastened his pace, sucking on your inner thigh as his fingers led you to the heavens. you saw stars. your eyes rolled and your mouth parted to give way to a scream, yet your voice failed. somewhere amidst that cloud of pleasure, you caught the sight of his figure towering over your own, one hand grabbing your breast as he pressed his lips against yours. sanji’s tongue invaded your mouth and the taste of your essence, combined with the movement of his fingers, led you to the edge.

your climax came accompanied by a broken moan, diligently muffled by sanji. again, he knelt, removing his fingers lick at your leaking hole, swallowing as much of your cum as he could. you squirmed due to the overstimulation, tugging on his hair to force his face away from your cunt.

“too much,” you whispered, observing the ceiling while coming off from your high.

sanji’s clean fingers caressed your cheek, and he supported your weight once you gathered the will to sit. he pressed loving kisses to your neck, mumbling compliments against the skin. your eyes landed on his softening cock, the wet patch indicating that he came undone.

you tugged at the waistband of his pants, beckoning him closer. your fingers toyed with the zipper, and sanji shivered, his hand trembling where it laid above your hip.

“there’s no need to repay me, mrs. princess,” sanji voice out softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “it was enough a pleasure to get to touch you, and your dessert—”

“i want it,” you interrupted, grinning with newfound confidence. “and besides, it’s your turn to teach me, isn’t it?”

sanji had to resort to a tangerine before tasting the real thing. luckily for the bananas, you managed to dodge the same fate.

— 🐈‍⬛ : this was actually supposed to be about teaching him how to kiss. and then i had ten tangerines for dinner and thought “waiiiiit it does look like a pussy” and boom, 3k words. i ended it with humor because i need to be funny at all times, otherwise i die. it’s a medical condition!

#one piece x you #one piece #op #op x reader #op x you #op x y/n #one piece x y/n #one piece x reader #one piece smut #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #one piece sanji #sanji x reader #sanji #op sanji #sanji x you #sanji x y/n #sanji smut #sanji imagine

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Note

hi! I loved your fic with reader and sirius in a situationship and he comes over for a hookup and reader is super stressed and he helps. Can you please do another one with that dynamic? Maybe angst where they’re hanging out at a party and Sirius is all over reader but then says they’re just friends? Possibly smut ensues 👀

I love reading you work!!

Thanks for requesting!

cw: smut mdni, p in v, semi-public sex, hurt no comfort

fwb!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

“Shh.” Sirius nips at your earlobe, eliciting another half-suppressed mewl from you as he presses you into the wall next to James’ shower. “You want everyone here to know what’s going on? James’ll have a field day.”

“He’s already gonna know if I walk out all marked up.”

“S’not my fault, is it?” he hisses, fingertips digging into your ass as his teeth scrape across your pulse point. “Why’d you have to wear this fucking dress, huh?”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” you pant, but you’re laughing, tits bouncing almost completely out of the tight bodice as he thrusts into you, the lace lining barely covering your peaked nipples. Sirius’ eyes had gone nearly all black when he’d seen it in your closet. Dollface, when did you get this pretty little thing? You’ve been waiting for the opportunity to undo him with it ever since.

Part of you wonders if he’d had a similar plan tonight. Sirius is wearing—or, well, he had been wearing—the black jeans you’d helped him thrift last weekend, slung low over his hips and paired with a tank top that shows ample expanses of his inked-up torso and arms. He’d watched as you drank the outfit in, and the pretense of socializing at James’ party hadn’t lasted long before he’d drug you into the bathroom by your elbow.

Sirius shifts, pushing you harder against the wall as he takes your weight with one hand, freeing the other to paw at your boob. It plops readily out of its confines and into his palm. You moan as his thumb brushes your nipple, ducking your head to smother the sound against his shoulder.

You start kissing the tattoo there a second before he finds the spot he’s been searching for inside you and your head lolls back. Your hands spread over his shoulders to ensure you don’t topple over, lightheaded and cock-addled.

“Easy, pretty girl.” Sirius’ tone is smug, his hands coming back to your ass as he hits that spot over and over again. He presses his lips to yours sweetly, swallowing your sounds. “I know you didn’t have that much to drink, try to stay upright for me.”

Pathetically, it warms your heart to think that he’d been keeping an eye on you. You use what leverage you have against the wall to grind your hips into him. Sirius groans, pounding into you so hard you think you must ascend, your vision all starry and wild as pleasure shoots out from your core, tingling all the way to your fingertips.

Distantly, you’re aware of Sirius covering your mouth with his again, thrusting into you a few more times before he comes too and bites down on your bottom lip as his grip tightens on you. Your chest hurts. You feel almost like you could cry, which is new. You both stay there for a minute, him relaxing his hold on your ass until it’s a bit kinder and you idly pulling a strand of his hair through your fingers, until Sirius breaks the kiss. His eyes meet yours, the color of heavy clouds, and you have the sense that he’s peeling you like a tangerine. Seeing down to your hidden, squishy bits.

“You alright?” he asks you.

You swallow. “Yeah,” you say, pleased to find that your voice holds no trace of the emotion spreading like a blight behind your sternum. “You?”

Sirius’ lips tilt. “I’m fantastic, dollface.”

He adjusts his grip on you, letting you get your legs underneath you before lowering you to the floor. Your panties bunch around one shoe, getting slick on your ankle.

“Ugh,” you sigh, sitting down on the lip of the tub while Sirius takes his condom off. “Can you pass me some toilet paper? I can’t put these back on like this.”

“Just throw them out.”

“I can’t, I really like these.” You start to reach for the toilet paper on your own and Sirius finally obliges, passing you a wad. “Thanks.”

He tugs his jeans back up, buttoning them before leaning on the wall to watch you. You keep your focus on your task and not on ogling how his biceps bulge when he crosses his arms like that. “I can just get you another pair,” he says.

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Oh, come on.” His tone takes on a familiar quality. You look up, and sure enough, he’s smirking down at you. The expression does things to your stomach you can never let him find out about. “I’m the one who ruined ‘em in the first place, aren’t I? Let me make it up to you.”

You would say it’s been sufficiently made up, but you only shake your head, folding the toilet paper over to a dry part. “I’m not throwing them out. I just need a minute, then I can put them back on.”

“Suit yourself, darling.” Something in you flutters at the pet name, but then Sirius pushes off the wall. “I’m gonna head out, get back out there so nobody sees us leave together.”

You keep your gaze downward. “Good idea.”

You notice him flash you a smile in your periphery. Even without really seeing it, you can guess what it looks like: flirty, impersonal. “See you out there.”

He opens the door, and you see only a flash of light brown hair before he’s slipping out and shutting it behind him, shielding you from view.

“Hello,” Remus’ voice says slowly. He must’ve just been passing by, but if the extended occupation of the bathroom hadn’t caught his attention, Sirius’ hasty exit certainly has. “Don’t suppose I need to ask where you’ve been.”

“That,” you hear Sirius say in his jovial way, “would be terribly nosy, Moony. Unlike you.”

You creep closer to the door, pressing your ear to the crack in time to hear Remus’ amused hum. “Don’t suppose I need to ask if you know where y/n is either, do I? Mary’s been looking for her.”

“I’m sure she’ll turn up shortly,” Sirius replies.

There’s a short period of silence wherein you wonder if they’ve walked away, but then Remus says quietly, “I hope you’re being careful.”

Sirius laughs, the sound derisive. “Thank you for your concern, but you’ll find a condom in James’ bathroom trash if you’re worried enough to go looking.”

“Not what I meant. She’s a sweet girl, Sirius. Don’t fuck her about.”

You can practically hear the lewd joke forming on Sirius’ tongue, but his voice lowers, unexpectedly sober. “I’m not,” he says. You stop breathing. “She’s under no false impressions, alright? We both talked about what this was before we started, and she doesn’t want a relationship any more than I do.”

Remus’ sigh is long-suffering. “Sure.”

“Honest, Moons. We’re just friends.”

Your heart—your stupid, mutinous heart—shrinks and withers like a balloon without air. You move away from the door as quietly as you can, sitting again on the cold lip of James’ tub. Sirius says something about taking charge of the music selection, and you breathe carefully as he and Remus go off. You’re furious with yourself, humiliated for feeling so dejected. Sirius is right; you had been clear about what you wanted when you first started this thing. Boundaries had been laid down. Just because your feelings have changed, that doesn’t mean his have. It was unfair of you to look for more from him.

Your underwear are a lost cause. You bury them underneath more toilet paper in James’ bin, hiding the condom while you’re at it. You’ll get yourself new ones without telling Sirius. What you do shouldn’t be his problem anyway.

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pretty-little-mind33 · 9 months ago

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uhhhh please tangerine lemon and handler/agent!Reader playing scrabble or monopoly to relax but it's so incredibly not relaxing

this sound so damn fun! enjoy! for fem!reader

~ * ~

"You're a fuckin' cheater," Tangerine hisses as he sulks on the floor. He had completely given up on being a civilized person once the game had become heated. His hair is messy from the constant re-arranging and he keeps loosening his tie like it's suffocating him.

Somehow, It tends to always become heated when playing monopoly with the Twins, so you aren't surprised by Tangerine's manic state. Lemon rolls the dice, ignoring his brother as he delicately moves his thimble.

He's winning.

"Next fuckin' time, I'm the fuckin' bank. I can't trust you for shit," Tangerine piped up again, groaning in frustration as Lemon passes his properties, safely landing on the starting square.

"Paying up, double this time," Lemon smirks as he reaches into the bank and taps his index on the starting square.

"Oi! No! Since when is it double if you land on it?!" Tangerine argues, grabbing the bank and sliding it towards him on his side. Lemon yanks it back, his eyes dark as he sends Tangerine a glare.

"Since forever," you add quietly, organizing your property cards. Tangerine sends you a glare.

"Whose side are you on, love?"

You shrug and smile, still very sleepy. "The winning side so this can be over with and I can finally sleep," you reason with a yawn. You're completely losing the game but it doesn't matter. All you wanted was a relaxing evening.

You should have never let Lemon suggest monopoly.

Tangerine grumbles something under his breath, seeing how sleepy you've become. He does feel bad since the mission has been stressful, mostly because of him, and now he's stressing you out again.

"C'mere," he mumbles as he leans against the sofa, opening one arm so you can move closer.

You happily shift over and sink your nose into Tangerine's chest as your eyes flutter shut. His hand finds your head, massaging a gentle circle with his hand as you hum, feeling yourself drift into sleep. The game has completely slipped your mind.

"Y/n, it's your turn," Lemon hands you to dice.

Tangerine takes them instead. "She's with me now."

"That's not how that works," Lemon begins.

"One more word from you and I'll shove these monopoly bills so far up your ass you'll be coughing up fake money for days," Tangerine quips, his voice eerily calm.

You wince at his vulgarity, but you're too exhausted to speak up, as you tighten your grip around his sleeve and watch through the slit between your eyelashes as Lemon scrunches up his nose and hits his brother's shin from underneath the coffee table.

"Bastard," Tangerine hissed and clutches his leg.

"Fuckin' language!" Lemon scolds, eyebrows scrunched.

Tangerine kicks him right back, hitting the small table with his knee and scattering some monopoly money onto the carpet. His movement causes you to hum and he freezes, looking at your sleepy state.

"You fu—"

"Shut up," Tangerine whispers harshly, snapping his head towards Lemon as he rests his hand on your head again. Your breathing has slowed and your eyes are fully shut. "She's asleep."

Lemon calms down, slowly picking up the bills as he sends his brother a knowing look. Tangerine is stroking your hair, the game completely abandoned as he focuses on you and making sure no one disturbs your slumber.

"Fuckin' whipped as shit," Lemon mutters, cleaning up the game as he suppresses a smirk. "I win, ya twat," he taunts but Tangerine isn't even listening.

His gaze is locked onto you, watching your chest rise and fall. You look so peaceful and his stomach flips. He knows. He knows instantly that Lemon isn't the one who won.

No. Because how could Lemon have won when you're the only prize that truly matters? And you're not Lemon's girl, you're his girl.

He's fuckin' won.

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neeeooon · 3 months ago

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I was wondering if u could write what it'd be like to make a joint playlist with nagi, reo, yukimiya, shidou, karasu, ness, and kurona. Ty

this is such a creative idea!!! love it TYSM FOR THE REQ <3

when you make a joint playlist together

bf bllk x gn!reader. some (shidou’s) are slightly suggestive

nagi seishiro

-> though he listens to the playlist more than you, most of the songs were added by you. he’ll have maybe two contributions every ten songs, but you don’t mind

-> you shared your on repeat playlist with him, and though it’s not one you created together, he’ll listen to it all the time. your music taste is yours, and he’ll grab onto anything that reminds him of you

mikage reo

-> you two have so much fun making playlists together! you share a spotify account, so most of your playlists are joint

-> you love finding new music and have several playlists because of it. “y/n, listen to this song i found! i’m not sure if it should go in the ‘hanging out the window at 120 mph’ playlist or the ‘tangerine cloud vibes’ one. what do you think?” “oh, definitely tangerine cloud vibes.” “i was leaning that way, too!”

yukimiya kenyu

-> his music taste is so nostalgic, but also so him?? it’s hard to explain, but you can look at any joint playlist you have together and easily point out every song added by yukimiya

-> honestly, his taste is better than yours. can listen to sweet romance songs from the 50s, then add a frank ocean song, and for some reason the two slow together perfectly. it amazes you

-> “babe… how?” “how what?” “how are you so musically gifted? where do you even find all these artists?” “oh, i don’t know. around?” “we live in the same house, quit gatekeeping.” “😅”

shidou ryusei

-> there’s a clear split between your music and shidou’s. he doesn’t even listen to the songs he adds often, he just likes seeing your reaction to them

-> “og one direction, destiny’s child, baby bieber, and sir mix-a-lot. one of these is not like the rest.” “agreed. bieber’s looking a lil suspicious if you ask me, y/n.” “😐”

karasu tabito

-> he takes his job very seriously. will think about it for literal days before adding a song to the playlist. he knows he’s succeeded when you send him a funny or cute emoji

-> you genuinely do not understand why karasu gets so stressed over your playlist, so anytime he adds a song, you reward him with a random emoji

-> sometimes you forget or don’t realize he’s added anything, and when you do, the song is already gone?? you figure he changed his mind. miscommunication at its finest <3

alexis ness

-> you love making playlists for him, since ness’s taste in music is very centralized. if you can get him to want to listen to something new, you consider it a win

-> when you make a playlist together, you keep your picks tame and choose songs most similar to the ones he added

-> you’ll always light up when you catch him listening to or liking a song you added. “okay, so this one’s a keeper.” “i like the beat… it’s nice.” “i will find you every single song with a beat like this, mark my words!”

kurona ranze

-> not organized at all. the point of the playlist was to add songs that remind you of each other, but kurona will add any song that pops into or won’t leave his head

-> “babe, how do i remind you of the ketchup song?” his response is to start singing at you in portuguese. “i—how—what?”

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gingerteafairy · 4 months ago

Text

𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 + 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬 masterlist

𝐝𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐰𝐬𝐤𝐢: 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

Dave would be the cute, silly boyfriend with you. For sure, his idea of going to the gym came from wanting to get strong to keep you safe and not look like a wimp if he saw any threats. He’d take you to the gym to workout together and ward off the attention of other guys. He’d love you playing with his hair, even if you made it all messy. He would wear his Kick-Ass costume in front of you, pretending he was fighting, just because you said he looked hot in it. He definitely has a thing for you in cosplay.

𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞: 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝

Tangerine's an impulsive man, but beyond that, he’s decisive and does everything with intention. If he found a girl worth it, he wouldn’t waste time with the nonsense of dating for years or stringing you along. He’d jump right into a casual “Want to be mine forever or get lost?” in the middle of the night. He’d grumble when you told him to stop hurting himself in dangerous situations, but secretly loves when you care for his wounds and are gentle with him when he’s in pain, thinking about taking even more risks just to have you take care of him.

𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐞𝐢 𝐯𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐲: 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫

Whether single or not, he can attract attention wherever he goes, including from you, even if you’re already promised to someone from the nobility, whose name he wouldn’t even remember. He’s complex and passionate, and would seek you out at the most inconvenient times to satisfy you, entertained by your innocent yet sinful ways. Fascinated by danger, he’d provoke even in front of authority, only to apologize later, claiming it was a stress-related mishap at the barracks.

𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝

Friedrich is a respectable man, given his title, but when it comes to you, all the etiquette goes out the window. However, he would try to be discreet, not wanting to offend you or tarnish your public image, as he didn’t care about his own. Your opinion would be the only one that matters. He’d give you expensive gifts, not that it was essential, but it was his way of showing that you were worth more than every damn penny he had. He’s a fantastic father, but he would dedicate most of his time to you, sometimes wishing the kids would grow up faster so he could have more intimate moments with you.

𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐫𝐲𝐝𝐞𝐫: 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐛𝐨𝐲

Tom is a jerk, that’s obvious, but it seems the dirtier he is, the more attractive he becomes. Tom would be your contact, always calling you on lonely nights, and vice versa. It would be strictly casual, but some nights, he’d catch himself wondering if he should change to see if you’d give him a chance. He could pretend to be your boyfriend at a party if some annoying guy was hitting on you (he’d also pretend for a free lunch at Burger King).

𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟: 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐬

Pietro’s nature is carefree and easygoing; a serious relationship would interfere with this moment in his life, where everything is rushed and he needs space. From the little he knows about physics, he’d casually say, “Two bodies can’t occupy the same space unless it’s on the bed, and I’m up for that.” Deep down, he’s a lover boy, doing anything for you, but always using the classic excuse, “Pffft. I’m a hero, that's literally my job.”

𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝

James is endearing, sweet, and intimate, like an open book. He’s definitely the perfect husband. He’s funny, fascinated by you, and would always give you books as gifts since you looked so charming when focused, which was his favorite view of you. He’d let you wear his glasses because you looked beautiful, but would quickly ask you to take them off, worried you might develop vision problems. If you liked a specific food, he’d try to venture into the kitchen to make it for you. If it went wrong, he’d just add a little magic and keep it a secret. And if you found out? Well, it’d be hard to complain to James Potter—he was handsome and made your favorite dessert.

#x reader #reader insert #imagine #fanfic #aaron taylor johnson x you #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson fandom #atj x reader #tangerine #james potter #tom ryder #pietro maximoff #friedrich harding #alexei vronsky #thinkingfairy #headcannons #headcannon

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sadesluvr · 18 days ago

Text

BULLSEYE.

It just so happens that your mission with Tangerine is to take down Sergei Kravinoff (NSFW).

w/c: 1.8k a/n: Just a quick thing I've had in the drafts for a min lol. They work pretty well together ;)

“Excuse me, Miss. Reception’s requested that you see to them immediately.”

Unamused, you instinctively opened your mouth to protest the waiter before closing it abruptly, opting for a subtle eye roll. The waiter wasn’t a waiter at all, instead your assignment partner Tangerine, who wore a smirk as smug as ever.

Sighing, you politely turned to the man you were dining with – the target, to be exact – a well-spoken, slightly rugged but neatly dressed man by the name of Sergei Kravinoff, who just so happened to be a vigilante. On the surface it seemed like quite the predicament but was rather common in the world of assassins.

Sergei waved a hand, letting you go rather cooly as you scooted out of the booth; Tangerine’s icy blue eyes burning holes into the back of your head. Once you’d made it up to the private room, he let you have it.

“You know, Lemon – the poor sod – is writhing in bed with a bloody fever, and you’re pushing some hundred-dollar gourmet shit around a plate. What the fuck happened to the plan?” he exclaimed, his lips pursed, and hands planted solidly on his hips.

“There is no plan, Tangerine,” you huffed. “You should’ve stayed with him. This was my mission, I had it under control!”

“Well, you could’ve fooled me. It looked well different from where I was standing.”

You knew what he was implying.

“How is this any different from what you’ve done? I’ve seen you flirt on the job.” “Means to an end,” he said bluntly, with a shrug. “I usually get the job done after an hour.”

“So, I was supposed to put a bullet in him right in the middle of a crowded restaurant?”

“I would’ve spiked his drink, but I’m not one to doubt your skills, love.”

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose before flopping onto the bed. Tangerine, who looked as dandy as ever, seemed a little worse for wear. In the short amount of time since you'd entered the room, he'd unbuttoned his collar and rolled up his sleeves – not to mention his fingers itching for a cigarette. Usually, you didn’t like to stress your fellow assassin, but Tangerine was well known for being a hot head.

It wasn’t as if you’d asked him to show up anyway.

“Those wouldn’t have worked,” you continued, looking at the British man earnestly. “I’m telling you, he’s different.”

“Oh really? How’d you know that then?”

You shifted, subtly adjusting the hem of your clothes. Moments passed before you spoke, only planting a feeling that Tangerine was all too unfamiliar with – he was uncomfortable. Unbearably so.

“We shared a sleeper train a few years back...It was my first day on the job --”

“Alright, I think I’ve heard enough -” the man said abruptly, sniffing and rubbing his nose. He was looking down at you inexplicably, as if he were disappointed, and a part of you felt awful about it.

It hadn’t really been evident until now, but Tangerine had started to gain feelings for you, having grown closer over every mission. You hadn’t replaced Lemon – no one would – but you filled a different hole that no one had in a while. The nature of the job was lonely, and it was nice to have a constant, even if you tended to dip in and out of their lives.

Knock, knock.

Strong knuckles collided with the hard wood. You buried your face in your hands as Tangerine glanced at you, composing himself before cocking his gun, holding it up beside him as he stared down the peephole.

“It’s that arsehole.”

“You know I can hear you, right?” The voice said, its American accent clear as day.

You snorted, giving the Brit a pointed look as you swept past him, opening the door. As expected, it was Sergei, who strolled into the room with a demeanour that rivalled Tangerine’s. Glaring, Tangerine wiped his moustache, lowering his gun but keeping his hand on the trigger.

It was silent for a moment, until Sergei’s brown eyes locked with your own.

“Good to see you again,” he grinned, nodding at you. “Didn’t think you’d leave me for a waiter.”

“We were just finishing up,” Tangerine interjected, stepping between you. “I think it’s time for you to go, alright fella?”

“Relax, my father owns the place. I know you don’t really work here,” The American replied smugly.

Tangerine winced.

“Fine,” he huffed. “I guess the charade is up.”

It wasn’t long before he fired his gun, aiming it towards Sergei’s face, despite your protests. To his dismay, the man moved quick - certainly faster than any human should’ve been able to – scaling the walls with ease to disarm the famed assassin, knocking him to the ground.

Tangerine shook his head, wiping the adrenaline from his body. His usually perfectly styled locks were now unruly, and if he hadn’t smoothed his hair back you wouldn’t have seen the fury in his eyes.

“You didn’t tell him?”

“I was getting to that part…” you murmured, watching as the man got to his feet.

Sergei cleared his throat.

“I apologise that we got off on the wrong foot,” he began, outstretching a hand. “The names Sergei. So-called vigilante with the strength of a lion.”

“Fucking unreal.”

He brushed the comment off.

“Your partner and I have a history. We were well acquainted.”

“It was a long time ago, really —“you stammered, nervously glancing between the two men. Other than each-others brutality, it was very much a turn on at the idea that they were fighting over you. They were so similar, yet utterly different.

“Not long enough. You were having dinner with him.”

“It was a catch up between old friends,” the man interjected. “You don’t think I know what she does for a living? She wouldn’t have reached out otherwise. She hasn’t in years.”

You swallowed. Was that wrong? You didn’t feel like you owed him anything – it was all a brief fling. At the end of the day you would’ve have done the job. You were one of the only people who could’ve been his weakness.

“Well, that makes me feel better then, don’t it?” Tangerine said sarcastically. “We’ve got a couple million or so on the line, so how’s this gonna end?”

“I could get you that million myself. You don’t need to kill me to do it.”

“What if I want to, eh?” The Brit sneered.

“I’m sure she doesn’t want that,” Sergei said cooly, nodding to you, and you suddenly felt the temperature rise as they locked their gaze on you, staring into your soul…but mainly undressing you with their eyes.

“Isn’t that why we’re here?”

It turned out that the solution to Tangerines ‘problem’ was solved when Sergei kissed you, one arm planted firmly around your waist as he lowered you to the edge of the bed. Tangerine shifted his weight, seemingly hesitant as he slumped his shoulders, watching like a hawk from the distance.

He’d read about this kind of thing, in his old literature books of course.

Sergei wasted no time in snaking a hand down your clothes, pawing at your breasts as he took them out, placing them on display for Tangerine to see.

“You should probably get in on this,” he shrugged. “Might fix your image, seeing as I knocked you to the floor and all…”

“Sergei —“

“Don’t bother, love,” Tangerine said, stripping off his blazer. “I’ll show you why that bastard is old news.”

The bearded man grinned in amusement at the challenge; eyes locked on the way you took the Brit’s face in your hands before your lips met. Your kiss with Tangerine was so different; gentler, more longing, compared to Sergei’s which was out of pure passion. You were hungry for them, as were they, but there was a delayed gratification to Tangerine’s lust.

It wasn’t long before your clothes were shed, leaving you totally exposed as your nipples hardened under the air conditioning.

The moustached man had made his way down between your legs, fingers pumping in and out of your wet pussy as you coated the rings on his finger. His cheeks were flush, eyes darting between your sex and your open mouth, where Sergei was unbuckling his trousers.

“Fuck, Tan…” you whispered. “I-It’s so good…”

“I’m flattered, love, but I’ve barely touched you,” he grinned, corners of his eyes crinkling up as he did. It was at that moment that Sergei took his cock out, giving it a few languid strokes before he guided you towards his genitals, throwing his head back in relief at the sensation.

He was as thick and heavy as you remembered, leaving you adjust your neck and mouth as you moved along his shaft, working your hand in tandem.

“You’ve got us wrapped around your finger, полевой цветок (wildflower),” the Russian remarked amidst a moan. “Gorgeous.”

It was heaven as Tangerine spread your thighs with his hands, diving head first into your pussy with his tongue. His groomed moustache tickled your clit as he lapped at your folds, his eye contact unwavering as he did. Not only did he want to see what he was doing to you, but he wanted to show Sergei that he could make you feel better than he ever would.

Sergei’s grip on your cheek was firm, but not rough, holding you in place as he bobbed you up and down his cock, trails of spit coating his dick in a shiny sheen.

You moaned their names between the heat of passion; mind foggy and a swelling in your core as you tan your fingers through Tangerine’s brown roots, gripping his hair as you bucked your hips against his face.

“Eager, are we love?” He said, voice rumbling into your sex. “If I’d known you wanted me this bad, I’d have made my move on that trip in Nice.”

You whined, momentarily pulling away from the man’s cock to catch your breath. In response, his hand snaked down towards your tits, giving them another squeeze before he reentered you, fucking your mouth at a steady pace.

Your eyes were watering now. Tangerine had started to use his hands, one holding your outer lips open whilst the other held down on your lower stomach, your core pulsing as he did. Both men were skilled, and they were working their best to get you off whilst not-so subtly trying to one up the other.

Nearing your orgasm, you were about to come when Tangerine abruptly pulled away, causing you to look up at him in shock.

“What’s the problem?” Sergei teased. “Can’t handle the heat?”

“Don’t you worry your little Yankee brain about me,” he replied. Once he stood to his feet you could see the visible bulge that had grown in his slacks. It was unlikely he’d be bigger than Sergei…but he’d certainly know how to use it. Maybe even better than him.

Popping his cock through the zipper, he gave his shaft – shades of a healthy pink and wanting – a quick tug and nodding towards your exposed sex.

“D’ya mind sitting out on this one, mate? I’m sure she can take care of you after. That is, if she ain’t too tired, if you know what I mean…”

#florence writes!!#kraven x reader #kraven x reader smut #kraven the hunter x reader #tangerine x reader #tangerine x reader smut #bullet train x reader #atj x reader #atj smut #aaron taylor johnson x reader #bullet train imagine

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cherrys-muses · 5 months ago

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Ooo Hii! If it’s okay, totally okay if not (also excuse my rambling)

Can I please request a Tangerine x reader where he’s on the train with lemon for the bullet train mission and he sees a girl and her bf, the bf is being really mean to her and she’s crying, and Tan immediately intervenes, definitely threatening the man after saying something to Y/n like, “Darling is this man bothering you?” Tan offering for her to come sit with him and Lemon instead of with this “prick” (Tan’s words lol), and when she tries to stand up, her bf grabs her wrist to stop her and Oooo boy does this light a fire in Tangerine who 100% at this time takes his gun out and points it at the man until he lets her go. And with Tangerine gently rubbing her back, she breaks up with her bf right then and there. Anyways, Tan walks Y/n over to their seats with a gentle hand on her back, making sure the crying girl is okay and telling her how she deserves better��

hi lovely! i am so sorry that this took forever for me to respond to </3 i hope that you enjoy and that it’s what you were wanting! thank you for being patient 💜 w; weird, toxic, boyfriend (boooo!) but not to fret, a handsome man with blue eyes saves the day. there’s a mention of a gun, and some mentions of the movie but no death! (lower case intended!)

tangerine and lemon were on a mission — grab a brief case, keep an eye on the white death’s loser son, then receive a bunch of dough and get on to the next mission.

yet, something kept bothering him — a lad at the end of the train and a woman who seemed as if she had been crying. tangerine couldn’t tell for sure, but her eyes looked sad, wet, and bloodshot.

the man — who had on a terrible tracksuit — had his head lowered, the girl to his side seemed to be flinching at every whispered word being spoken aloud.

he stands, buttoning his jacket. lemon stares up at him. “what are you doin’, mate?”

tangerine clears his throat, brows pinching together as his eyes trail away for only a moment. “i’ll be back,” he pats lemons shoulder before motioning over to the tattooed male by the window. “watch that delinquent.”

“i’m right here.” the russian boy says with a bit of sass. tangerine simply spares him a a glance before walking away and towards the back of the train.

he stops, the boys lowered voice never stopping, though tangerine still couldn't tell what he was saying.

your eyes quickly dart towards the stranger before they quickly drop towards the table again. the man clears his throat — your boyfriends words ceasing, head snapping over, veins protruding from his neck.

tangerine’s face screws up a bit — what a…different looking person. “i couldn’t help but notice that you look stressed, love,” he motions towards you. he waits until your eyes finally look over at him once more, a reassuring smile on his face.

“everything alright?”

your teeth bite into your bottom lip, chin wobbling a bit as you hesitantly nod when you distinctly feel the burning gaze of your boyfriend.

tan’s eyebrows lift, head tilting. “you’ll have to speak up for me to actually believe—”

“she said yes, what more do you want?”

tangerine waits a moment, eyes looking down at the boy. “she didn’t say anything. it’s also rude to cut off others. think before you do it again,” he looks back at you. “come with me.” he motions for you to stand.

you want to leave. very much so, and this is the time to do it. you don’t know the stranger — this handsome angel who showed up out of no where — but you feel as if you could trust him.

reaching for your bag, a hand quickly shoots out and grabs your wrist before you could move to stand, pinning your forearm to the table.

“you’re not leaving.” there’s something that pokes his side, his grip wavering their hold.

“i think you need to let go of her wrist before we cause a bigger problem, right, mate?”

his jaw clenches, eyes clouding with anger. slowly pulling his hand away from you, you stand quickly and slide out of your seat, into the hallway. tan never pulls away from him until your close enough.

slipping the gun back into the back of his pants, his hand presses against your back in a gentle touch, careful not to startle you.

“let’s get you away from this prick, hm?”

you smile a bit and nod, allowing him to lead you towards a different seat. he glances back at the boy, flashing his gun one last time, smirking.

#aaron taylor johnson x fem!reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you

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awonderfulliar · 5 months ago

Text

Tangerine flavored

As if you didn't have enough problems already... You sighed as the man behind you pushed his gun in your rib to make you move faster. Your hands were up in the air and you were breathing slowly, focused on the sounds around you. Why did so many people want you dead again? You chuckled a bit, remembering all of the stupid decisions that brought you here. You kept smiling. Quite funny how most of your survival instinct can shut down when you've been sleep deprived and stressed long enough. The big bad man standing in front of you must not have liked that as he ordered his men to knock you unconscious.

When you woke up, your hands were tied to a rusty radiator with dried bloodstains. You weren't quite smiling anymore. Especially when you saw the instruments in a metal bowl lying on the ground not far from you. The room was dark and only a ray of light slipped through a metal door on the opposite wall. You blinked as someone opened the door, letting all of the brightness from outside reach your tired eyes.

-Sleep well darling? did a male voice say in a mocking tone

-Where were you all night? Off to another girl's bed I take it.

The man grinned a bit and you knew your sarcasm would sooner be beaten out of you then you could get a laugh out of this tall caricature of a gangster's handyman.

-A lot of money has been paid for your pretty head, you know.

-Always knew I could be a face model.

-I don't think that's so true anymore, bloody mary.

You wipped your cheek and looked at your hand. Dried blood and dirt covered your fingers.

-Anyway, sweetheart, my boss wants to know how you were able to piss off all of these people.

-Can't he ask me himself?

-You're not that important.

-Well it seems I am actually. And you guys are the only ones unaware of why apparently.

A voice coming from outside shouted "We have a fresh one!". The man in front of you harshly took your hands to tie them. Then he turned around calmly and left the room with the door still open. You tried to get up, but were too slow as he quickly came back with two other men. One was almost unconscious, beaten up, and bloody all other. His messy brown curls hid most of his face and a golden chain hang around his neck as his head was tilted towards the floor. The two men handling him threw him on the ground next to you and his already torn blue suit soiled with the grey dust of the room.

-Alright, we'll let you two rest for now, but don't worry, darling, I'll be back soon enough. And you better have an answer for me by then.

The two men left the room and you stared at your new now completely unconscious companion.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-Where the fuck am I?

He said in a raspy voice, waking you up from your very light sleep. You didn't answer and looked his way for the second time today. He was quite handsome, actually, with piercing blue eyes, a sharp jawline, and a nice British mustache. You stared more than you were meant to because that's how he took notice of you. As the weird girl staring at him.

-They locked me up with the crazys?? What the fuck is wrong with these people?! I'm a respectable sane man, I am. Fucking pricks.

You chukled, your eyes still lingering on his figure. You liked his accent too. You turned your head to the door, finally leaving the man some privacy as you closed your eyes. You heard him standing up with difficulty and reaching the other side of the room probably while leaning on the wall. He was grunting in pain. You opened your eyes.

-Yeah, they probably forgot to lock the door. Or maybe they left us the key. Oh, wait, what if this is just an elaborated escape room, uh?

-Your hands are tied, mines aren't. So maybe try that again in a nicer tone, uh love?

-Kinky...

He threw you a mean glance from across the room. That smug smile that earned you all those problems was still on your lips.

He slid on the wall and fell back in a sitting position. He looked exhausted. As you were trying to think of what to say, the door opened.

-So, are you ready to talk? Or do I need to deal with you in a less calm manner?

That man from earlier was back, smiling and clearly on a power trip.

-I don't know what you want me to tell you.

He walked across the room, past the handsom exhausted man, and stood straight like a stick in front of you.

-Maybe start by what you did to deserve one of the highest price I've ever seen on someone's head.

The british looking man, who was starting to fall asleep, began to pay attention at those words. His blue eyes were on you except you doubted it was to take in the sight of your face. Too bad...

-Would you believe me if I said I didn't do anything?

The handyman squat down, looked at you, and slapped you in the face harshly. Even the other guy flinched.

-Start speaking now or...

-Or what?! You'll kill me?? You're going to do that either way! So what's the point of figuring out why others wanted to do it themselves?! You'll collect the prize with or without knowing why it was put on my head in the first place. You don't need the info. You just need an excuse to keep me alive until the client comes in and sees me alive. I know they want proof. Live proof. They want to see you guys kill me. You're not doing me a favor by letting me live, you're just doing it to get the bigger bag.

The man stood up, hummered something that sounded like "smart cookie", chuckled, and left.

-Jeez... what did you do? *did british hottie say*

This time it was your turn to throw a mean look his way.

-You really think I'm gonna tell you.

-I can untie your hands for starters. And I can help you get out of there. However I like to know who I'm doing business with, so if you wouldn't mind disclosing the information that guy was looking for...

-Get me out of there and I might.

-Doesn't work like that love.

-Then leave me here. I never asked you to help me, did I?

-Obviously, it's going to be harder to escape alone.

-So untie me and I'll help you.

-What if you're actually crazy and will turn on me the first chance you'll get.

You chuckled. Smiled a bit, a sad look on your face.

-A big tough buy.. scared of me... scared I'll be the one to hurt him. It's crazy how life turns out, uh? One minute you're scared to walk home alone after the sun goes down. The other, the guy you would have been scared of on those streets at night turns out to be the one distrusting you.

His eyes were locked on you. Watching you as if you were some lab rat. An eyebrow raised in interest. A serious look that meant he wasn't taking this scientific anaylisis lightly. He rose back up, slowly walked up to you with the difficulty of a hurt man, and lowered to your level when he came close enough.

-What's your name?

-Is it important?

-It is to me. You thought of pointing out the implications of that answer, but were scared of where that would lead the two of you.

-Y/n.

-I'm Tangerine.

-That's a fruit.

-Good observation skills. A real detective.

-I'm just saying.

As you were talking, he came even closer and untied your hands. His fingers were grazing your skin. You smiled again, this time without the sad look on your face but a more embarassed one. Like a young girl with a crush in 6th grade recess. It wasn't that he was touching you (not entirely at least). It was that he was helping you.

He stood back up, straightened his back, and extended his arm towards you, opening his hand. You were looking elsewhere as he gestured to you.

-It is a fruit's name though... you're named after a fucking fruit... and I'm the crazy one...

You take his hand, get off the floor, and smile big this time, confidently, and with a mysteriously cocky look in your eyes.

-Alright, time to get out of here.

-Look love, I appreciate the confidence and all, but let me take the lead on this. You're obviously a bit slowed down by all the beating and like you said, I'm the big tough guy here.

-I'm not slowed down! *You said while starting to walk towards the door, damn your leg hurt...*

-You're limping...

You smiled a bit awkardly. "Nothing serious... just haven't stretched out yet is all". Tangerine smirked and walked (shall I mention a lot faster than you as he wasn't limping) towards the side of the door.

-Could you get your friend back in the room please? Just him though.

-HEY ASSHOLE!! COME BACK HERE I'M READY TO TALK!

And just like that, you heard footsteps advancing. The door opened 40 seconds later, and you locked eyes with the bitch slapping dumb looking goon. In shock of seeing you standing up, free of your ties, he took a milisecond to stare you down during which Tangerine grabbed his head in his hands, quickly broke his neck, and picked up the riffle.

-Could you pass me his handgun?

-You're not gonna kill me are you love?

-I don't eat tangerines... always preferred oranges.

-You do realize that there are other ways to interpete this right?

You laughed silently, murmuring "Yeah well I don't mean it like that obviously...". To your surprise he heard.

-Obviously?... *He smirked at you with a very cocky look on his face which made you blush a tiniest bit, but under the dirt and blood, you were almost sure he couldn't see it. He handed you the deceased goon's gun*.

But, time for banter quickly came to an end as your british eye candy advanced in the dark and gloomy hallway, on his gard. You followed after him. Quick story short: he shot most of the gards himself, and you had to fire the gun maybe 5 times total, surely hitting your target, but not contributing much to the team's effort as there was a little bit more than only 5 gards between you and the exit. To be completely fair though, you guys managed to not alert every guard there thanks to you, as you killed quickly the ones running for help.

All of this came to an end in a backalley of a London restaurant where the fire escape you took led. You were free. Somehow. Still limping and in a quite awful condition. But free.

-Well this is where we say goodbye Y/N. I don't know what you did to get that prize on your head, but surely you must be a terrible person. Get yourself out of trouble though, love, this isn't a life for a sarcastic humorist tangerine hater such as yourself.

-So no one believed me when I said I didn't do anything wrong?

He looked at you, a bit surprised, but you didn't look back. You just started walking (in that case limping) towards the Main Street. It must have been quite a pathetic show as he walked up to you and put his arm under yours to help you. You didn't say anything. Didn't look at him. Just starred at the ground before you, wincing quietly at each step.

-Where shall I drop you off love?

You stopped moving. Chuckled. Looked the other way. And with a sad but desperately trying to be funny tone, said:

-I'm not sure to be quite honest...

He didn't respond. Took a deep breath for a minute. Then put his arm back in place and you both walked towards a phone booth. There he let go again and went in. Made a phone call, went out, starred at you, you starred back.

-Hungry?

You nodded your head to say yes and, wonderful timing as it was, your stomach started growling just then. You put your hand on your stomach as to silence it and Tangerine chuckled which showed off his extraordinary jaw definition.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You both sat on the same side of the table, apparently waiting for someone. As your british knight in a shining armor looked around the diner, you ordered fish and chips, chocolate milkshake, and a banana split. Once you were finished talking to the waiter (who was very disturbed by your bloody appearance by the way), Tangerine looked at you.

-That is the weirdest order I've seen placed in a while.

-Well what did you want me to order?

-Lemon! *Did he exclaim*

-Lemon for dinner? I don't think so, that would be terrible...

Tangerine stood up and hugged the man that came in. Both took a minute to catch up as you continued to mutter on how dumb ordering lemon would be for diner...

They both sat down, and Lemon starred at you.

-Who's that? A bit roughed up are you? Do you need a tissue or something? To wipe all that off...

You looked up from the menu.

-Ah, I look fine, haven't slept in a bit is all.

-Who is she Tangerine?

-That's Y/N, she needs a place to crash and we have a couch, so I thought...

-When did you meet?

-At least 24 hours ago. *You said in all honesty*

-Tangerine are you fucking mental?? Do you know how many people want us dead for what happened last year? We're not inviting a bloody stranger to the hotel. Hell no...

-Lemon... She seems to be on her own and it's not like she couldn't have killed me earlier had she wanted to... Jim's men wanted to sell her off to some kind of client, she's a bit lost is all*He said whispering*

-No! What are we?! A fucking adoption shelter taking in strays like that? She's a liability is all she is... You can't help a girl just cause she's pretty and seems harmless. She could be a hired assassin for all we know.

-I should probably go... I'll just wait for the food though, if it's okay with everyone. *You said looking down and with a low voice.*

You all sat in silence for a minute.

-Why did they want you dead so badly? Jim's clients? *asked Tangerine*

You didn't respond, just looked down. The food came. You ate the fish and chips quite quickly, then the banana split. All in silence. As you sipped on the milkshake, you noticed they were both still starring at you, waiting for you to answer probably.

-Well I meant it... I didn't do anything wrong.

-No one ever does... *sighed Lemon, visibly distrusting of you*

-I'm not an assassin okay? I don't kill people for a living... I find things, things people want. Like antics, or old military files.

-But you're a good shot, and quite calm for a civilian. *Raised Tangerine*

-When I started the job, I was just an academic looking for pretty random stuff, but the work wasn't just adventures and detective work, sometimes criminal organizations looked to acquire the same objects as I was. So I got help from hired gunsmen and sometimes even official special forces. They didn't want me to be helpless without them so they trained me a bit. Once I got a few skills added to my resume, my clients started asking me for more valuable objects, that more and more people wanted. So of course my skillset kind of diverged to dealing with the competition. But it wasn't on the job description when I applied.

-Jim specializes in assassination though? Why would he want you? *Asked Lemon*

-Because there's a bid on my head...

-And why is there a bid on your head?

-Because they think I stole something...

-What did you steal?

You finished the milkshake. You were about to stand up but Tangerine was looking at you a bit too concerned.

-Look Love, if you tell us what happened, and you didn't actually do anything wrong, then we might agree to help you. We're not complete assholes...

-Aren't we?! Now why would we help?

-Because Jim is a prick and anything to piss him off is worth the effort.

-Fair point... Alright Y/N, tell us, what happened?

-They think I stole the key to the MI6 database.

-Wait... don't tell me they have one key that can access...

-All datas on past, present, and future missions, on British government security, on british criminal organizations, on undercover agents, what they have on the CIA, on the FBI, on every other country's secret services, on the nuclear codes... Yeah all of that. Yes it exists.

-And they think you have it...

-No, they think I stole it.

-But then why would they want you dead?

-Because they also think I destroyed it after looking at it.

-And no one wants their secrets spilled out by you...

-Yep.

-But you didn't steal it?

-Not exactly...

-What did you do?

-My client wanted me to recover a file of the MI6. It was practially undoable. So I digged and I digged until I found this hardrive in an old vacant MI6 hideout. It was weird because it looked top secret but didn't have anyone around it to gard it, it was like it was handed to me. I looked at it, didn't have that much protection, just enough for me to think it was valuable, but easy enough to crack down. Then when I accessed it, it was a whole database of incredibly sensible documents. Yeah I looked at it, but not for long, got the file I needed, but before I could send it to my client, someone knocked me unconscious and I woke up without the hard drive but with a billion dollar target on my back. Somehow the information got out that I stole the hard drive from the MI6 super super secret base, which I never even set foot int.

-So someone set you up?

-Yes.

You stopped talking. Looked at them. Lemon looked sorry for you, Tangerine looked concerned, and you... chuckled.

-The bill's on you, right? *You asked in all seriousness.*

Tangerine smiled, and lemon was about to refuse, but his brother replied first.

-Yeah, the bill's on us love, but maybe let me eat first, okay?

-Are you gonna eat a fruit?

-You know I've already ordered right, and this joke's old already.

You waited for the two brothers' food to arrive while Lemon changed the subject to whatever happened to Tangerine. Apparently Jim and his men had some beef with the fruit brothers, and those nice lads had a plan to take down Jim's goons except it all went wrong when Lemon made one too many references to Thomas the train... ah no, it went wrong when Tangerine took too long in the bathroom to check his hair, well something went wrong, and, ah the food arrived!

-Where's your family Y/N? *Lemon asked*

-Countryside.

-So you have one. Do you want us to drop you off with them?

You didn't reply right away. They were almost fininshed with their food. You waited until the plates were clean to say:

-Look, if you want to drop me off somewhere and forget I ever existed, take me to the airport, I can look after myself, but don't think my story is gonna have some fairytale ending. Obviously I'm gonna get killed at some point or another, I'm just trying to enjoy my time until then.

-It's not like we can make the entire criminal world stop looking for you. I would help you, you see, but I don't know how. Honestly, you're kinda fucked...

-Don't listen to him -*Tangerine jumped in*- You're not fucked, you just have to diverge the attention to whoever has the key. Once people start looking for them, they'll forget about you.

-The problem is, I don't know who has the key. If I did, not only would I be off the hook, I'd be damn rich.

-Hold on... *Lemon stared at you for a moment* How much money is in the game?

-More than a billion that's for sure...

The two brothers starred at each other not sure what to say for a minute. Tangerine turns back to you and is about to speak when Lemon says:

-Let's make a deal, we help you find whoever got the key, it gets the target off your back, and we get 2/3rds of the money. You get the rest.

-I'll make you one better. *You smile fully, showing your teeth and visibly amused* You get all the money, as long as I'm still alive.

-Deal! *Lemon extands the palm of his hand which you clap right away*

As the three of you head to whichever hotel the brothers booked in a cab, Tangerine whispers to you:

-For the record, I was ready to help you regardless of the money.

-That's stupid. You shouldn't do that.

-What's stupid is being a big though guy and not helping people who so clearly need it.

You looked at him for bit. The same look you gave him in that cell when you first saw him. "Fuck you're actually so beautiful" you thought.

-Thanks. Not the reply I would have expected, but thanks.

Sleep deprivation clearly made you a tad bit lunatic, saying stuff you weren't supposed to. You looked away immediately and rested your head against the window. Closing your eyes felt like heaven.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The hotel was old and cheap, the late 80s style still intact. You liked it. Starred at the curtains of the room as the sound of the shower filled the silence. You closed your eyes.

-The shower is free. May I suggest you take one before going to bed love?

You woke up with a dizzy head, you really wanted to go back to your nap, but the guy standing in front of you wasn't budging.

-Are you saying I smell bad?

-Yeah, I am. Get up now.

You did, he held up a hand for you to take it which you did as you were more than tired. He didn't let go when you were up though and led you to the bathroom. You weren't sure where Lemon had gone to. He turned the shower on, pointed to the soap, and said:

-I reckon you know how to shower. Won't need my help for the next part then.

You grinned a bit and looked at him, he smiled. After he left, (and only after), you started undressing and finally took the shower. Once you turned the water off, he knocked on the door.

-Are you decent?

You grabbed a towel and answered positively. He came in, took a glance at you, closed the door, and stood in front of you for a second. His eyes went from your wet hair whose natural color was finally visible, your face which was now recognizable, your clean skin, your bruises, and then back to your face. He had some medical products in his hand and gestured to the bathtub. You took a seat on the edge of it. He dabbed a cotton in disinfectant, and slowly went over every single one of your cuts. They were quite a lot of them.

-Jesus, how many days did you stay in that place?

-Just a couple hours before you came in.

-Where are all these marks from then?

-Other people.

The last injury was your cut lip. He went over it delicately and you just starred at him for the third time this week.

-You're quite sweet for an assassin.

-Are you gonna make another fruit joke?

-Saw right through me... No but really, why the kindness?

-Just because you do some bad stuff for money doesn't mean you have to be an asshole for free too now does it?

-Thank you.

-You're not saved yet, thank me when you are.

-I will.

You both smiled, this time he was looking right back at you. Nice blue eyes like antartic ice. Really, really nice eyes.

-I'm back. *Lemon shouted from the room. He then entered the bathroom looking for his brother and his gaze settled on you.* You look quite nice without all the blood and dirt on you. Oh, wait, guys... Did I walk in on something?

Tangerine scoffs, gets up, and pushes Lemon out the bathroom. You hear them banter for a second before Tangerine comes back with a bag that he hands you. He politely smiles at you and exits the room, closing the door behind him. You go through the bag to realize your old clothes are no longer in condition to be worn and two men who were complete strangers a week ago just had to guess the size of your bras and panties. What was even more awkward is that the ones they bought fit quite well. The rest of the bag was some blue jeans, a black halter top, and a loose shoulder black sweater which you liked. You didn't put it on though, opened the door without getting out and asked for a t shirt. No way you were sleeping in jeans for 12 hours straight. A t shirt flew right to your face a second after. Probably Tangerine's guessing by the smell. He smelled nice. But not the point. You put it on and finally got to fully crash out on the couch. You couldn't move anymore, too tired, too comfy, you were just there. Before falling asleep, you saw the handsome brit throw a blanket on you trying not to look at your figure.

You woke up a bit lost, not sure where you were or how long you had slept for. A few seconds brought your memory back and your eyes adjusted to the light. Tangerine was there. Sitting at the desk typing away on a computer, his back turned to you. You got up and walked towards him. You were standing just a few centimeters away as you leaned over his shoulder and stared at the screen.

-What's that? *You asked*

-Holy... fuck, have you heard of heart attacks??

-You're that old? Don't look a day over 50. Are you trying to hack into the MI6?

-Well obviously yes.

-From a cheap retro looking computer?

-Do you have a better idea?

He then realized you weren't wearing pants. To which he gave you a disapproving look over his mustache and continued:

-Maybe start by wearing some pants before attacking the cheapness of my computer.

-Pants are overrated.

-I'm sure they are. *He turned back to the screen. You sat on the desk, facing him.*

-If my legs disturb you so much, stop looking at them.

-Get off the desk. You know for someone getting threats from half the criminal population, you're surely quite calm.

You hummed, got off the desk as prompted, and went to get the jeans from yesterday. However, he stood up and grabbed your hand before you could get fully away.

-Alright maybe you don't need to put pants on right away. *You turned your face to him, starring into his eyes* I was right though, when we met. You are really crazy.

-For not wearing jeans to sleep?

-For flirting in the middle of a life or death situation. *He pulled you in closer.*

-Who said I was flirting? *You closed the last gap between you two*

-Me. *He leaned in to kiss your lips*

#tangerine #tangerine bullet train #bullet train #tangerine x reader #x reader #x y/n #tangerine x you #tangerine x y/n #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson x you #aaron johnson #bullet train x reader #bullet train x y/n

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werezmastarbucks · 23 days ago

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flowers over boys masterlist

Agust D!yoongi x f!army!reader slowburn, friends!bts x f!reader

summary: time and space travelling is hectic, fun and very often dangerous as you never know where you'll end up. it only gets more complicated (sometimes boring) because the only way to return to your timeline from an alien dimension is to die. this time you end up in Joseon, where king Min doesn't really appreciate your 21st century habits.

tags/warnings: time/space travel, isekai, reader is an army, bts Joseon AU, agust d, all bts are there, dark!Hoseok, inequality, humor, violence, hierarchical society, reader takes up work as a gardener, unserious reader, almost invincible reader - i was writing it for pure fun; everybody is a little sexist and classist because it's duh Joseon. not historically accurate, the reader almost literally ends up in the Daechwita music video. i was writing it to unload the stress of spring so. if it gets ridiculous, that was the design. unfinished for now, idk when i will complete it lol

music: made this playlist for another story i never wrote, but if it fits i sits

tangerine

black pines

pomegranates

bad seed

peaches

plucking of poison weeds

bloom

oriental lily

papaya

stuck on a tree

i am running out of plant themed titles

horseradish behaviour

warm shade of the crown

oilve branch

saplings

bamboo

broken bark

last straw

...

#min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine #bts imagine #bts au #agust d

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wynnyfryd · 11 months ago

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Trailer park Steve AU pt 67

part 1 | part 66 | ao3

cw: recreational drug use

Waiting around to die or get arrested or whatever fucking sucks. Partly because there’s no running water (Steve’s never wanted to take a stress shower so badly in his life) and partly because Eddie won’t let him stay sober. Has it in his head that altering Steve’s mental state will keep Vecna away, like hanging a mosquito net over the opening of a tent.

It’s not not working, he guesses.

He hasn’t fallen in to any more hallucinated open graves, at least.

He comes down the stairs a little before noon, towel-drying his hair after a bottled water sink bath, and finds Eddie in the kitchen: Reeboks on, hair a cotton candy mess, head-to-toe teddy bear tie-dye under his leather jacket — a matching shirt and sweats that he fished out of Rick’s dresser. He’s stirring Spaghettios in a small pot at the stove, and when he sees Steve come in he turns to offer some, the wooden spoon held out with a sort of desperate perkiness. “Morning! I found food that isn’t expired. You want some?”

Steve shakes his head.

Eddie shovels the whole spoonful into his mouth; wipes sauce off his chin, speaks before he’s finished chewing. “I also found blotters in the freezer and shrooms in the bedroom closet, so uh. Pick your poison.”

Steve picks the shrooms. They wait a few hours to take them because Eddie swears the sunset while you’re tripping is unparalleled, man, although Steve kind of suspects that he’s just giving him time to work up the nerve to eat them. He still gets nervous about chemicals — probably always will, after the shit the Russians did.

In the meantime, Eddie rummages through Rick’s cassette collection, and Steve talks to Robin on the walkie; gets all the new details in staticky half-sentences — something about mind flayers and mental hospitals, what else is new? He tells her to be safe; tells her that he loves her; keeps his eyes trained on the clock.

—

Shrooms smell and taste like ass. Steve can’t stomach them; spits into the grass while Eddie laughs sympathetically and hands him a little square of paper to put on his tongue instead, and they spread out side by side on a few old beach towels by the water and wait for it to kick in.

Nothing, at first, not that Steve expected different. Twenty minutes; forty-five.

“Still nothing?”

“Nothing.”

And then.

Eddie holds up a glossy aquamarine pebble, squinting at its glow in the late afternoon sun. “I should give this rock to Skye. Bet she’d love it.”

“That’s a shard of glass.”

Eddie blinks at it. “Oh, shit.”

Steve snorts, and when he looks at Eddie sideways there’s a glimmer of that same cerulean shade outlining his whole body, a low-frequency feather of energy rolling off of him in waves. Eddie moves his arm and the color chases it, a long-exposure photo of high beams on rain-slick roads.

“Oh,” Steve says, mouth slack. His voices echo in his head; all six of them. “I think I’m…”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, eyes alight, pupils blown.

“Yeah.”

All at once something slots into place, attunes itself inside of Steve, and it’s like… he can see Eddie’s mind; touch it, cradle it, reach out to it with its own. It feels crazy. Psychedelics are fucking crazy. He reaches out a hand, slicing through ribbons of shimmering light, tasting the colors as they fade, and Eddie’s emotions spread out in high-definition before him — like the image has always been there but now it’s crystal clear; someone’s shifted his focal point, filled a kiddie pool with Epsom salt and left him there to float.

“I see you,” he says nonsensically.

Eddie frowns. “I’m sorry.”

“…That I can see you?”

“I usually am.”

That’s not right. Eddie’s thoughts shouldn’t sour on his account, shouldn’t sag in the middle like a moldy tangerine. “I can close my eyes?”

“Fuck,” Eddie laughs, thin and strained. “Don’t say shit like that when I’m not allowed to kiss you.”

“You’re not?”

He hesitates. “Am I?” Antsy fingers drum the grass, overgrown with vibrant clover and dandelion stalks. “Just feel like we should talk first, if uh, if it’s safe.”

Steve probes his own mind, tests it for outside threats, but there’s nothing. The acid forms a fractal fortress. Penrose steps, paradoxical and strange. “It’s safe.”

He moves to lie on his side, invites Eddie to do the same. “Talk into the kiss,” he suggests when Eddie joins him — face to face, chest to chest, Steve can see the thrum of Eddie’s heartbeat in the hollow of his throat; wants to press his thumb to it, so he does, the sense memory of ripe cherries bursting on his tongue.

Eddie’s lips against his own; hovering. Static electricity like the scent of summer rain. “I think my pride makes me a coward.”

Steve rubs his dry lips across Eddie’s, chapped skin and shared heat.

“It’s like… I kept trying to tell myself that I was being… I don’t know, valiant, or some shit? Like, ‘oh, he’s so much better without me. I’m the town pariah; I’m keeping him safe by running away.’” He thumps his fist against his heart as if beating a shield to shining armor, and Steve can’t see his eyebrows with their foreheads pressed together, but he can feel Eddie scrunching them into a picture-perfect hero frown. Almost has to laugh — so fucking theatrical even when he’s serious.

“But if I’m honest,” Eddie murmurs, “it wasn’t like that at all. Nothing fucking brave about vanishing on you. Like, what?” His voice shifts again, lilting but critical, a comedian doing crowd work. “I get a liiiittle fucked up by townies two too many times, and I sabotage my whole life over it? Ruin the best thing I’ve ever had over it? As if this goddamn horseshit hasn’t been happening to me since— forever! Shit.” He blows his bangs out of his face; calms himself. Goes a little cross-eyed trying to look Steve in the eye. “I got scared, Steve. There it is. That’s the ugly truth of it.”

He swallows harshly in the dense silence that follows.

Robins chirp; cars pass.

The lake laps at the shore and casts prisms like fishing line, spiderwebs of rainbow light flashing behind Steve’s eyelids. He brings his hands up to Eddie’s face.

“Christ.” Eddie shudders; lets himself become dead weight, rubbing his cheek into the touch, warm stubble scratching over the pads of Steve’s fingers. “Am I making any sense? I feel like I’m not making any sense.”

Yes. No. “You’re making sense. I mean. As much as anything is right now.” The sandy brown freckles on the bridge of Eddie’s nose are swirling like snow flurries. Steve traces them with curious hands. His knuckles blur and swivel, too. “You left because… you wanted to protect me from… yourself?” He sums up, not sure if he’s getting the math right.

“I left because I’m a scared little shit who couldn’t handle getting bullied in a parking lot, but uh. Yeah. I guess I, like, didn’t want to…” His eyes go big and startled, cheeks flooding bright pink. “Oh, shit, I was about to say I didn’t want to curse you, Jesus Christ.”

Steve honks with laughter. Loud and deep and punched out without warning, because the irony of that — that there’s a literal big bad running around cursing people, and the person who was actually doing some real good in his life decided that he was the problem — it’s fucking— hilarious! Hysterical! Steve giggles himself sick, lungs burning as it tapers to a silent wheeze, and Eddie joins him, confusion giving way to compulsion; contagion in the manic giddiness spewing out of Steve.

“You thought—” Steve struggles through hiccups, tears beading in his lash line, “you thought you were the bad luck charm in this relationship?”

“Don’t mock me!” Eddie whines, still laughing. “I already said it was dumb.”

“It’s so dumb.” Eddie may be the cutest, dumbest thing he’s ever seen. He rubs his thumbs over his cheekbones, smile fading. “If anyone’s a curse, it’s me.” Four for four here on getting dragged into supernatural shit. Does Eddie really think homophobes are more dangerous than hell dimensions?

Eddie’s already shaking his head. “You’re a fucking blessing.”

Warmth radiates through Steve, drips from the crown of his head like a downpour of holy water. He feels anointed. Ascended. He feels— “Please tell me we’re allowed to kiss now.”

Their mouths crush together, impossible to tell who moves first, whose tongue is in whose mouth, whose desperate breath Steve swallows as Eddie rolls him onto his back. Hands roam and pull and clutch, molding the shape of him into the earth. Maybe someday, Steve thinks, if aliens invade, they’ll study these imprints like crop circles, trampled declarations of how much Steve loves this boy. “God,” he gasps into the kiss. “Missed you so much.”

“So much.”

“Don’t do that to me again. Don’t go.”

“Never,” Eddie swears. His grip tightens on Steve’s waist. “Never again, baby, I fucking promise. I think I—”

On the far side of the house, leaves crunch and branches snap as a car pulls up the drive. Boots on pavement, rowdy voices; unfamiliar; red alert.

“Spread out, boys!” the voice of Jason Carver bellows. “If that Freak’s in here, we’ll find him.”

—

part 68

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #my writing #my fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #reefer rick #jason carver

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pretty-little-mind33 · 9 months ago

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Pietro Maximoff x mutant fem!reader

Summary: You hate Pietro for how he treats you, or at least you do until you're stuck in an elevator with him.

Genre: hurt and comfort, enemies to lovers (only they aren't "enemies") <3

Warnings: Pietro is a dick in the beginning, panic attacks, claustrophobia, swearing, i use Czech to represent Sokovian (probably shitty translation)

~ thank you for requesting @princesssunderworld! loved this prompt sm! i wrote this for Pietro because we need more Pietro content asap and i have so many wips for Tangerine already! I hope you like this! ~

PIETRO MAXIMOFF MASTERLIST

Pietro Maximoff is quite possibly your worst nightmare.

While he does have the face of an angel, all doe-eyed and charming smile, he somehow manages to make your life a living hell. He's like some beautiful, insufferable, devil that constantly insists on sitting promptly on your shoulder.

Mostly, he spends his days finding any excuse to either argue with you or undermine you. During training, he constantly makes snarky comments on your form and purposefully speeds by you to knock you on your ass. He'll always wear the same smirk when you chew him out, almost like he's amused and you despise it.

You hate him.

And most of all, you hate how it makes you feel. How he makes your cheeks feel warmer and that unfamiliar feeling bubble in your stomach.

Wanda tries to convince you he has a school-boy crush on you—like some little boy who likes pulling little girls' hair on the playground. You don't want to hear it. He's a grown man now, not a boy anymore. If he has a crush, he should deal with it like an adult.

One afternoon, Pietro had just pulled one of his so-called pranks on you, causing you to walk under a bucket of cold water and successfully drenching you and rendering the flames that usually spark from your hands from your anger into smoke.

The Avengers in the room training grow silent as Pietro, sitting on the weightlifting bench, bursts into laughter.

"Pietro!" Wanda shrieks, immediately rushing to you from where she'd been talking to Vision but you shake your head, frustrated tears threatening to brim in your eyes.

You send Pietro a glare and storm out of the room, shaking your wet sleeves.

You're too busy mumbling curses under your breath to hear Wanda shout at her twin brother as you furiously press the elevator button. When the doors opens you do hear his voice, however, "Y/n! Princezna (Princess)!"

You rush into the elevator and spin around, pressing the close button as fast as you can but obviously, Pietro is much faster.

He reaches you before the doors close, almost slamming into you as his body vibrates from the aftermath of his powers. His hand comes up behind your head instinctively so you don't hit your head against the wall and he glances down at you, his blue eyes piercing into yours.

You push him away just as the elevator wobbles and the sound of something snapping is heard. Pietro's speed must have somehow messed up the elevator system because the elevator starts to fall.

You gasp, reaching for the only other person in the elevator, and Pietro is by your side in an instant, crouching you both into one corner, his arms tightening around your waist as the elevator falls three stories and then halts with a loud screech.

Your mutation sometimes manifests when you're stressed, so you barely even register that you've set a part of Pietro's sleeve on fire from where you're clutching his arm until the sprinkler in the elevator turns on, soaking you both.

"Hey, miláček (darling)," Pietro holds one of your cheeks in his hand, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he sees the white cloud in your eyes disappear and you blink. "You're okay." You're breathing heavily now, staring at him until you snap and push him away, curling your arms around your knees.

You look at the elevator panel only to see it's broken. Pietro is trying his hardest to pry the doors open, but even with his speed, they remain shut.

"Fuck Tony Stark," Pietro groans and slumps to the ground in front of you, running a hand in his silver hair as he sends you a lopsided grin. "You okay, princezna (princess)?"

You glare at him.

Pietro lifts his arms in surrender.

You check your watch. The team should realize something went wrong and rescue you at any moment. You'll be fine, you try reminding yourself but the walls seem to be pressing in faster and faster. You feel dizzy as tears blur your vision and you haven't realized that you've started hyperventilating until Pietro touches your arm.

You gasp again and look up at him, frightened. His expression softens as he kneels in front of you, looking you over. He looks concerned, which is a first.

"I- I can't breathe," you manage to croak out, your voice strained. As much as you don't want to turn to Pietro for help, you need him.

Pietro nods, understanding your panic now. He soothes you and holds out his palm. "Breathe. It's okay. You're safe," he says and shakes his palm a little. He wants you to hold his hand.

You sniffle, still having trouble breathing correctly as your fingers stroke against Pietro's palm and he smiles. His skin is warm and the shock centers you for a moment.

"There. I'm right here, miláček (darling)," he pauses and his hand vibrates a little, controlling his powers just enough so that he can show you he's here.

The sensation elicits a laugh from you as you look up at him, matching the breathing he's showing you. Pietro's smile widens, his heart only half-breaking from the tears brimming in your eyes and he resists the urge to wipe your cheeks.

"Shhh, there you go. Breathe. Dýchej, anděli, dýchej (Breathe, angel, breathe)."

Minutes later, Wanda is fussing over you as you sit in the lounge room after Tony rescued you and Pietro. She wraps a towel around your shoulders.

"Are you okay?" She keeps repeating as she ignores her equally wrecked-looking brother standing in the corner as Clint and Steve talk to him. You nod, eyes round from the entire ordeal.

"Did he make it worse? Because I'll kill him—"

You shake your head, glancing at Pietro. Your cheeks burn hot when you catch his gaze and you snap your head back to Wanda, who just looks confused.

"No– he helped me," you whisper, watching realization sparkle in her eyes.

Still, she doesn't say anything.

* * *

Pietro isn't awful to you anymore. He's the opposite.

He's sweet.

You find the shift weird so you avoid him. You avoid him until you physically can't anymore because he's blocking the door to the kitchen as you stand in the refrigerator light, a spoon stuck in your ice cream tub.

Your eyes widen as you look at him. He's wearing his pajamas as they hang just under his v-line, his hair a mess as he yawns.

"What are you doing up, princezna (princess)?" he asks and walks over, grabbing another spoon and leaning against the counter, and shakes the spoon for you to share the ice cream. You hand him the tub, staring at him intensely.

"What?" Pietro smirks, his mouth full as he winces. "Sakra, je zima (Damn, it's cold)."

"Thank you," you blurt out. You're a week late but you don't care.

Pietro raises an eyebrow. "For?"

"Helping me in the elevator. It meant a lot," you say, shifting nervously.

Pietro's smile softens and he sets the ice cream down, licking his lips. He walks over, cornering you into the counter but you don't feel threatened. You feel safe. He lifts his hand and hesitates at your cheek.

"Y'know, I'd be quite an asshole to let you suffer like that," he says in a whisper, his Sokovian accent thick as he chuckles. His fingers touch your skin and you shiver, your eyes widening.

"Didn't stop you before," you mutter.

Pietro frowns.

"Listen, anděl (angel), I know I haven't been the nicest to you but it's all been in good fun—it's nothing serious," he looks away a moment, searching for his words as he pauses. "I never meant to ever truly hurt you. I- I like you, Y/n. I just didn't know how to tell you so the teasing was easier for me."

You tilt your head, taking in his words. "What was your plan then, Pietro? Make me dislike you so somehow I'd turn around and like you after? That doesn't make any fucking sense. You could have just been sweet like you're being now!"

Pietro looks at you again, his arms caging you in now as his hands flex around the counter. "My feelings for you make no fucking sense," he argues, his eyes locked on yours. "I hate them. I hate how they make me act like a fool when all I want to do is kiss you and hold you close. Vše, co chci, je milovat tě (All I want to do is love you)."

You never wanted to admit it but you love it when he speaks Sokovian and you calm your breathing as your eyes shut. Pietro leans in, his breath ghosting yours. "One word. Say the word and I'll stop. I'll stop everything. I'll leave you alone."

You open your mouth, your eyes following, and you whisper. "Kiss me."

Pietro wastes no time in kissing you, claiming your lips as his own as his hand tightens around your waist. He's pulling you in closer, your body warms so hard as your hands find his cheeks that you're afraid you'll burn him and you try pulling away from him.

"You won't hurt me," Pietro whispers through his kisses as he refuses to let you go. "I can take it."

You gasp into his mouth as your hands find his hair, pulling on the strands. This feels so unfamiliar and yet, you've never kissed anyone like this.

Finally, Pietro pulls away and he leans his head on your warm forehead as you catch your breath.

"Wanda mi dluží dvacet babek (Wanda owes me twenty bucks)," he whispers, mostly to himself as a lovesick smile graces his features. "Moje. Jsi můj. (Mine. You're mine)."

"What are you saying?" you ask, looking into his icy blue eyes you once 'hated' so much.

Pietro smiles and kisses your lips. He doesn't tell you what he means or how he feels.

Not yet.

#quicksilver x reader #quicksilver x fem!reader #pietro maximoff #pietro marvel #quicksilver pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff fanfic #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff fanfiction #pietro maximoff marvel #pietro maximoff x you #pietro maximoff x fem!reader #pietro maximoff x y/n #avengers age of ultron #marvel #marvel age of ultron #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson fic #pietro maximoff fluff

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sungbeam · 11 months ago

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𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲

ji changmin x gn!reader

1.3k words, est. relationship au, hurt/comfort, minor fluff but more angst?, a bit of silliness, mentions of work pressures, neck kisses, intimacy, mentions of playful biting, pretty much not beta'd or proofread (past my bedtime; written in an hour)

a/n: @kimsohn saw some of the goofiness first <3 ily (*breathes in deeply* idk what im doing guys. anyways, this belongs in the category labeled "i get yappy and sappy when im existentially exhausted")

In the dark, the clock on top of the oven screamed “3:22AM” in angry, red light. You stumbled past it, vision blurry and footsteps as quiet as you could make them against the hardwood. Your bones ached to the marrow and you could feel the blood throbbing violently in your skull; you could not sleep.

It had been three hours of tossing and turning before you completely gave up and slipped out into the kitchen. Usually, it wasn't too difficult for you to fall asleep, but alas, there would always be exceptions.

You managed to find the opened bag of tangerines on the kitchen counter, the orange, wiry mesh already torn from the last person who'd grabbed one to snack on. As your eyes grew accustomed to the dark, you dug your nail into its skin and began to peel it open.

Through your daze, you just barely registered the sound of the bedroom door opening—footsteps followed after and came closer; they weren't trying to stay quiet like you were, as there wasn't any reason to anymore. Hands patted you down from your shoulders to your arms until they could settle comfortably around your waist; his body slid flush against your back like a puzzle piece, still warm from being in bed. Hair tickled the underside of your jaw as he nestled his chin into the crook of your shoulder, the ghost of his breath fanning across your skin like a caress, relieved.

“Did I wake you?” You murmured, forcing yourself awake a little as you felt him lean more of his weight against you.

A low hum. “Bed got cold.”

The corners of your mouth tilted upward as you stuck a piece of fruit into your mouth—it was summer; the bed couldn't have been cold. Juice spilled over your tongue in a comfortingly sweet tang, and you went for another. “Sorry, love. Do you want some?” You asked, holding onto a piece of tangerine.

“Mm-mm,” Changmin hummed, shaking his head with a slight movement. You felt his arms give your body a squeeze. “Are you okay?” He asked, voice small.

You shoveled the remainder of the tangerine half into your mouth, hands reaching for another one to keep yourself busy as you chewed, then swallowed. “Tired.”

“Is it the thing?”

Just the thought of the thing—the project you were given charge of at work—made you wish the ground would swallow you up. Your hands stilled on the orange.

The project was the first you were given a manager role for, as they thought it appropriate because you came up with the idea, but it seemed to only be an excuse to overload you with every Herculean task they could think of. You were practically chained to your cubicle desk until day's end, only leaving to go to the bathroom and attend another god forsaken meeting. Where home was supposed to be for rest, you were often slumped over the dining table, stressing yourself silver.

The thought of Monday… no, you couldn't think of Monday. You'd gone so long working on this thing—how could they make you loathe an idea that you proposed?

At your lack of an answer, there came a small breath against your neck. His thumb gently rubbed your side back and forth, the ebb and flow of the tide. “I'm sorry, baby. I know it doesn't mean much, but I'm proud of you.”

“It does mean something,” you countered quietly, and moved one of your hands to place it over his that rested over your stomach. “I'm just—I hate it here sometimes.”

The two of you seemed to sigh at once, your chests raising up then deflating in tandem. It made the knots in your shoulders loosen for just a moment, and you could release some of the strain keeping you tight and awake.

“One more,” he coaxed lowly. “In—”

You both slowly pulled air up through your nose to fill the caverns in your chests.

“—Out.”

As all things came and went, so too did this breath.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips pressing something sweet against your throat.

You were too tired to cry, but you might have just then. Sometimes it was just a project, but other times it was everything to you. It was born from your two hands, your brains, your back, your bones. Plenty of blood, sweat, and tears had seeped into every proposal and presentation, but you could never tell if it was enough. Would it ever be enough?

Changmin's head shifted as you snuck another piece of orange past your lips. “Remember,” he said, “when we were in college, and I let you text girls on my Hinge?”

Your mouth sweetened into a smile at the memory. “It was only because I let you text the guy who'd given me his number.”

“He was so lame—he clearly just wanted you to go see that new Stephen King movie so he could hold your hand.” You could feel him roll his eyes in the dark, though his voice remained syrupy with sleep.

You held back a snort. “That's the point, hon. If I remember correctly, the pick-up lines I used on those girls actually worked.”

“Crazy.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. You chewed on the next piece of fruit, swallowing it down before speaking again. “At least one of us has game.”

You felt the light pressure of his teeth against your shoulder, and you let out a surprised laugh. You didn't jerk away though—awfully used to your partner's strange language of affection—but you did push back against his forehead in lighthearted reprimand. “We talked about the biting.”

“Yeah, and you said you liked it.”

It was a good thing you didn't have fruit in your mouth. You warmed the slice of orange in your palm as you let the heat leave your cheeks and your neck. He could undoubtedly feel how flushed you were, and he seemed to preen at it.

“Gotcha,” he said smugly, and the smile on his lips molded against your skin as he left a kiss behind your ear. He nuzzled his nose there, too, fingers dancing along your side.

“I love you,” he said next. These words were quiet again. “I hate seeing you like this.”

You knew he meant the state he found you in—hunched over in the dark, eyes glazed over, and dread thrashing in your ears to fill the silence. The laughter that lit up your face just now had been his doing, his attempt at easing all of that burden.

You laid your head against his. “I love you, too.” You hated feeling this way, but some things had to be done. You had to see this one through, and you would.

“Don't run yourself ragged for this,” he said, as if reading your mind. “Can't let you lose yourself.”

The corners of your eyes prickled, your vision going blurry again. Your chewing slowed and you finished the last of the orange in your hands to clear the way for him to grab your fingers to intertwine them with his. He rocked your bodies slowly, dreamily—he was the gentle swaying of the waves beneath the raft you laid upon—and he was keeping you above water.

“Senior year of high school—” a miniscule break in his own voice, “—when college decisions came out… you didn't speak for so long, didn't eat. It was so quiet, and I—I didn't know how to help you.” Back then, the two of you were only labeled as best friends; you still hadn't decided if what you had back then was what you had now, but it was love in some form of the word and feeling. You supposed in every phase of knowing Ji Changmin, what you felt for him was love. “Can I help you now, please? How can I help you?”

You sucked in a breath and it came out trembling. “I'm just tired.”

“Yeah.”

“Just—that’s all. Just be here with me.”

You could feel his slight nod that turned into a tuck into your shoulder. Your pulse fluttered beneath the brush of his lips, his hands tightening around you. (I'm not going anywhere, not without you.)

In a night quickly dissolving into daylight, he held you and held you and held you.

tbz m.list

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