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leclercsredhelmet · 6 months ago

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Guilty as Sin ⚡︎ Max Verstappen

A/N: Hi! Back again with another one, this time it’s Max and guilty as sin! This is a little longer than the rest and it has a little crossover with the NFL, I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Arguing, a little smut. Joe being a jerk (no hate to Joe, he’s one of my faves but I needed a not so good boyfriend for this blurb)

Without ever touching his skin, how can I be guilty as sin?

Sitting cross-legged on the outdoor couch with your computer on the table you looked out at the Miami skyline with a smile. You and your boyfriend Joe had rented an apartment for the next week, Formula One was in town and you were trying to score some last-minute tickets. F1 Experiences had sent you a promotion email, the prices looked good and there were still tickets left, the offer was tempting and you were considering splurging on it. Thankfully, your job allowed you to pay for expenses such as these. You were about to buy the tickets when you received a message on Instagram. Upon opening it, you gasped and jumped off the couch screaming for Joe.

Joe ran out onto the balcony, looking bewildered, “Joe, Joe, Joe, oh my god, oh my god!” You shouted while slapping his chest. “Baby, are you okay?” he asked, concern flashing in his eyes. Unable to talk you showed him your screen, “Baby, this is huge! You better say yes!” he said hugging your waist. Grinning you typed a reply, “We’re going to the Miami Grand Prix!” You shouted and Joe whooped.

Panic set in and you started to pace around the living room, “I have nothing good to wear to a paddock club, this is going to be the end of me!” you exclaimed, “Baby, baby, hey, look at me” Joe said grabbing your shoulders to steady you. “We’re a short walk from the Brickell City Center let’s get changed and we’ll find something for you to wear,” he said. Smiling you kissed his cheek and ran out to get your laptop and into the bedroom, hastily grabbing some clothes and heading towards the bathroom.

Joe was laughing behind you and you heard him shuffle around the room. Things between you two had been rocky lately, he hadn’t had the best season with his calf injury and the wrist injury which forced him to sit out the remainder of the season. But things between you had shifted before all this, you had done your best to push the possibility that your relationship with Joe might be close to running its course. Dating him since the LSU days hadn’t been easy all the time, but you made it work throughout college, your internship in New York during his first-ever season in the NFL with the Bengals. Your careers had tested your relationship but you pulled through, and you were up to a few weeks ago convinced he was the man you wanted to marry. However, lately, this was not looking as clear as it had, Joe was distant with you most days.

Quality time between you was dwindling, you weren’t going out for dinner like you used to and had stopped doing many things together but you pushed the thoughts away for this week. Just one perfect week with Joe in Miami, and everything will be back on track. Your apartment was a short walk from the Brickell City Center mall so you made haste and got there in no time. A few hours later you walked out hand in hand with Joe who carried your bags full of outfits. You had insisted on paying for your own, but he refused and paid, which was why you had decided to buy him an outfit and some sunglasses you knew he had been on the hunt for.

With the bags on the bed, you started to plan your outfits and left them in the closet, Red Bull Racing had been in contact with you and your passes for the week would arrive tomorrow. They were nice enough to give you both access to media day and would send you a media pass with your journalist credentials. You figured you’d make the most out of the opportunity and take notes to report on the race week.

Excitement poured out of you and Joe took note of it, his stomach sank when he realized he hadn’t seen you like this in a while. Dawning on him, he started to see where he might’ve been faulty as of late and made a mental note to make this week the best and hopefully get back on track with you. Unbeknownst to Joe, he hadn’t stretched far back enough to realize he had been pulling away for months. You were sitting in the back of the car that was taking you both to the circuit.

Joe was scrolling on his phone and had barely paid attention to you, for most of the car ride, your driver followed the signs for the entrances assigned to the paddock club members and soon enough he had parked. “Joe we’re here!” you exclaimed and he snapped out of his daze to smile at you, he tipped the driver and informed him that he would call two hours in advance before leaving. With a smile, you thanked the driver and took Joe’s hand. “Hey Joey, do you think it would be weird if I ask Lewis for a picture with Red Bull passes on? You asked. “Don’t think so” he replied dryly. “Is everything okay?” you asked softly. “Yeah, why?” he asked. “Nothing, you were just a little dry, never mind,” you said quickly. Putting an arm around you, you walked and followed the signs for the paddock entrance and security greeted you.

There was a lane to get to the paddock so you walked through it and the entrance looked a thousand times bigger in your eyes due to your excitement. Scanning your passes you grinned as you stepped into the paddock. Joe reached for your hand and you walked past the photographers. A smile was plastered on your face and it got wider when you stepped into the football field. More photographers called out to you upon seeing you two enter. The official f1 cameras were filming your entrance and you did a little wave, while Joe smiled.

The cameras left you alone and you spotted the Red Bull hospitality, you pointed it out to Joe and walked towards it. Some members of the team’s staff were outside and they greeted you, the social media admin who had contacted you, introduced herself and welcomed you inside. “Max and Checo should come by soon, help yourself to any drinks if you want,” she said. Smiling and thanking her, you turned to Joe. “I never thought I’d see the inside of the paddock, much less meet Max,” you said. “Cool, hey some of the guys are here,” he said not acknowledging what you had said. Getting slightly angry, you steeled yourself by counting backward from five. “Okay, can it wait until after?” you asked trying to hide as much of your annoyance as possible.

Was this man serious right now?

Figures approached you and you noticed it was Max and Checo, poking Joe his attention turned to the approaching drivers. “Hey, nice to see you guys!” Checo said. Joe extended his hand and shook Checo’s you did the same but greeted him in Spanish. Max was greeting Joe and he turned to you, “You must be y/n, it’s great you finally meet you. I’ve read your articles and they’re great!” Max said politely. “The pleasure is mine trust me, it’s great to know you liked them,” you replied politely. “Please you write the most competent pieces I’ve read, they should hire you in F1 already, you’d ask non-bullshit questions in the press conferences and interviews,” he said candidly and you laughed.

“She’s trying not to fangirl so hard but she goes insane on race weekends, she’s also raving about you,” Joe said and you blushed. “He’s exaggerating, don’t pay him much attention” you added and Joe laughed. Max smiled, “Seems like we’re all fans of each other,” he said to you both. You complimented Checo’s helmet and expressed your support while Max and Joe chatted and the admins took pictures of them. When you were done talking the admins wanted pictures with the four of you and you with Max while Joe took some with Checo.

Part of going out with Joe to sporting events included this, but you didn’t mind it as a sports journalist because this was pretty much what happened to you, when you attended events for work. “Some of the fins guys are here, I’m going to meet with them for a bit,” Joe said. “Okay, just don’t leave me alone all day please” you whispered. Without replying he left and you were alone with Max since Checo had media duties to fulfill.

Max had been done with his, and he decided to chat with you while showing you the paddock. Joe still wasn’t back and it was starting to bug you, “Do you have any projects lined up?” Max asked. “NFL-related not really, but I’m covering a little bit of hockey and the formulas,” you said with a smile. “Starting with us?” Max asked with a grin, “Yeah, and F1 academy, I have been writing a separate space on my blog for it and I’m excited to see the girls race!” You enthusiastically said. “I’ll get you a pass to the garages next door,” Max offered. “Oh that would be so great, thank you,” you said gratefully. “Do you need one for Joe?” he asked. “No, he seems to be busy at the moment” you replied in a serious tone.

“Ah I see, it’s a little rocky?” he asked. “You could say that, is it that noticeable?” you asked. “Not really, it is to me because I’ve been there before,” he replied before changing the topic which you were grateful for. Max had cracked a few jokes and your cheeks were red from the sun and from laughing, as he promised he would, a pass was handed to you and you thanked him. Slipping the purple lanyard on you exited the F1 paddock and made your way to the F1 garages, making sure your journalist credentials were visible.

The reigning world champion couldn't help but look at your retreating figure, desperately he’d wanted to ask for your number but the more rational side of him was holding him back. She is off-limits, even for me. He could tell your relationship seemed rocky but he would settle for just friends, of course, that all depended on you being open to it. But you were so beautiful, and it pissed him off that your boyfriend was nowhere near you. If I was him, I would be worshipping the ground you walked on.

Charles Leclerc approached him outside of the hospitality before doing the little drill the Miami Dolphins had prepared for them. Noticing his sudden halt in conversation he followed Max’s gaze to see it trained on you and smiled knowingly. “Ah, she’s Burrow’s girlfriend right?” he asked and Max nodded, his speech coming back to him slowly. “Y-yeah, they’re Red Bull’s guests” he replied and Charles smiled. “You like her,” he whispered. “She has a boyfriend,” Max replied quickly. “Yet you didn’t deny it,” he said before patting his shoulder and leaving.

Spotting Braxton you greeted him, smiling he beckoned you over and you greeted his teammates. “Tell me have you seen my boyfriend around? He left me stranded” you whispered. Braxton looked at you apologetically, “He was with us in the paddock club, I think he’s still there” he said. “Okay, thanks Braxton,” you said and didn’t move. Max went over to you and introduced you to the other drivers.

Heading back to the Red Bull hospitality you stood on the balcony and watched the drivers go through the drill, it was funny to see them a little out of their element. Joe had miraculously deigned to appear and he put his arm around you, you leaned into his touch and talked in hushed tones, still, you couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach.

Days had passed after the Grand Prix and you guys were at Joe’s beach house in California, things hadn’t changed and you were feeling like it was time to call it quits. To distract yourself you had gone out to surf and had just come back, sitting on the porch with your feet on the railing you closed your eyes and listened to the ocean breeze. Joe was calling out to you and hadn’t heard him until now. “What?” you called back walking into the house. “Did you go to the beach and didn’t tell me?” he asked irritated. “Joe I told you I was going out for a surf, you didn’t reply because you were busy doing god knows what and I left” you replied crossing your arms. “Well, do you want to go back?” he asked. “No Joe, I’m tired,” you said flatly. “Whatever, I’m going out for a run,” he said with a sigh and turned around. The door slamming shut made you jump and you noticed a package addressed to you. Grabbing it you went upstairs and tossed it on your bed, before showering.

Sitting down you opened it and noticed it was a RedBull PR package with a note addressed to you from Max. With a smile you read the note and opened the box, taking a picture of it you posted it on social media and tagged Max and the team, thanking them. Feeling tired you set the box aside and decided to take a nap. Waking up in cold sweat you let out a sigh and ran your hands through your hair. You were feeling guilty for your dream, why am I dreaming of someone else and not Joe?

Shaking your head you decided to splash cold water on your face, and once again the image flashed in your brain. Max’s eyes were raking your body at an agonizingly slow pace, his hands were firm as they held you by the waist before he leaned in to give you the most teasing of kisses that left you wanting more. This is bad, stop thinking about him. Why hadn’t Joe touched me like this in months? Am I a bad girlfriend for thinking this? There’s no such as bad thoughts, only your actions talk

Joe had come back from his run and you had decided you needed to talk, “We need to talk” you said sternly. “About what?” Joe asked, “Us,” you said swallowing the lump in your throat. “I need you to be fucking honest Joe, no bullshit. Do you not want to be with me anymore?” you asked. Joe looked at you surprised, “Baby, why are you asking this shit?” he asked. “Answer the question please,” you said as your voice cracked a little and you cursed yourself. “I- y-yes,” he replied but he was hesitant and that told you all you needed to know. “Tell me, when was the last time we felt like a couple and not to people drifting away?” you responded. “Last week, we went out,” he said not answering the question.

“That was the Miami Grand Prix, and you left me alone the entire week Joe! Do you know what that felt like? It felt fucking awful” you said fighting back a sob. “It was just a slip-up, baby. We’ll get back on track. I promise” he said while reaching for you and his gaze hardened a little, your heart felt like it was being ripped out of your chest. “Joe, have you even realized that we’ve been pulling apart for months?” “I don’t think it’s been months, you’re being dramatic!” he said raising his voice a little. Scoffing you turned around and headed up the stairs, blinking tears away. Joe was behind you and followed you into the bedroom, you were blindly throwing things in your suitcases. “What the fuck are you doing?” he asked. “Packing,” you replied dryly. “We can work this out, we can go to couples therapy, I can be better. Don’t fucking do this” he pleaded. “Joe I’m tired! I’m tired of feeling like a fly on the wall, you haven’t treated me like your girlfriend in months and I thought that you needed space after recovering and I gave you space but you just feel a million miles apart and I can’t do this!” You exclaimed as you looked at him with tears spilling out of your eyes. His eyes landed on the box, “Is it because of him?” he asked.

You scoffed, “No it’s because of you, I’m done Joe,” you said tossing the box in your last suitcase and zipping it up. Grabbing them you refused his help and went downstairs. “You know what sucks most, I thought you were the man I wanted to marry one day,” you said and his head dropped. “For what it’s worth, I had the best years of my life with you and I will always wish you well,” you said softly. “Please, I’ll retrace my steps, and make it up to you” he pleaded. “Retrace them but we’re done Joe,” you said as you looked at him one last time. “Can we at least be friends?” he begged. You shook your head, “It would hurt us too much, goodbye Joe” you said as you opened the door. You hadn’t called a cab but you took your luggage to the end of the sidewalk and called for one.

Hanging up you couldn’t help but break into a sob, when the cab got there you asked to go to the airport and booked a ticket to the first flight out to France. This was how you had ended up in Nice hours later. Joe hadn’t made an effort to call you and that made you feel worse. Your relationship had run its course and you wanted to forget everything and just erase years worth of memories and feelings. Little did you know that something as silly as an Instagram story of your hotel room views would catch Max’s attention.

Messaging Max you told him you were in Nice and he asked if you had any plans, to which you replied you didn’t. You considered him your friend and decided to accept his proposition to meet him in Monaco. Looking like less of a mess, you put one of your favorite dresses on and got ready, taking the train you met him out of the station. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Nothing!” You exclaimed and faked a smile, he didn’t buy it. “You called it quits with Joe?” he asked. Not bothering to deny you nodded, “Come with me to the races, I’ll get you a pass. As your friend, I don’t want to leave you alone,” he said. “Max, I can’t,” you said. “Why?” he asked. “Because-” you said stopping in your tracks. “I have no place to stay, I packed all my life into suitcases what do I do with that? I can’t just jet-set and leave!” you said. “Stay with me then,” he said as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Noticing your hesitation he turned to you, “Please, I have a spare room. No one lives with me, I can help you get your things and when you don’t feel like coming with me you can stay. Just until you sort everything out” he said. Giving in you nodded.

Determined to help lift your spirits Max took you out to eat and for a walk around the principality. Afterwards, he drove to Nice and helped get your things and settle into his apartment. Weeks had passed and you had taken Max up on the offer to attend races with him as his friend. Certain gossip accounts had gotten wind of your split with Joe and your presence in the races alongside the Dutchman.

People had started to speculate but you ignored them, your friendship with Max had evolved and feelings had been developing but you never acted on them. You liked Max, and you were certain that he felt the same way. Tonight was your last night in Singapore, your hotel room was dark and you couldn’t sleep. Reaching for your phone you looked at the clock, it was 2:25 am. Sighing you sat up and headed towards the bathroom to splash water on your face. Debating knocking on Max’s door you pondered the option for a few minutes. Hesitant steps carried you next door, knocking once the door immediately swung open, revealing a shirtless Max. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice showing no hint of sleep. Suddenly, you felt self-conscious, “I can’t sleep,” you said, “Me neither” he replied. Leading you in he closed the door behind him and locked it.

Taking a seat on his bed, you fiddled with the hem of your oversized shirt, Max looked at you before taking a seat next to you, and motioning you to move closer to him. Both of you sat facing each other. Oh how badly he wanted to admit you had been plaguing his dreams, he didn’t mind it but he just wished they were no longer dreams. Forcing the thoughts away he talked to you in a soft voice, minutes had passed and he couldn’t help but look at your lips. You noticed and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“Fuck it,” his voice was hoarse and he reached out to you, kissing you as if his life depended on it. Your hands felt around in the darkness and found their way to his neck, you kissed him back and you pulled away breathless. His blue orbs were taking you in, a chill ran up your spine, this was starting to look like a familiar scene. Max initiated the second kiss and it was much rougher than the first, his hands were holding tightly onto your waist and you shifted to sit on his lap, you bit his lip and he groaned. Pulling apart his eyes slowly raked your body, his fingers slipped under your shirt and his touch sent shivers up your body.

“Max, Max” you said pulling apart and panting, he called out your name, and god, it felt so fucking right. “Don’t stop” you said in a low voice, he chuckled, “Only if you ask me to, Schat”. What if it feels like a vow, we’ll both uphold somehow? His kisses `never faltered, he was holding you ever so delicately, your back met his pillows, and your shirt was discarded on the floor. Heat rushed to your cheeks as his eyes raked over you, his hands hadn’t left your waist, reaching up you pulled him by the neck and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. Breaking away he started kissing your neck as his hands roamed your body, you sighed and he smiled while leaving wet kisses down your chest. You could tell he was testing the waters and you simply wanted him to dive in, “M-Max” you said. “I’m taking my time Schatz,” he said and you mentally cursed him. Bringing him up you kissed him and couldn’t stop the moan that left your lips when his hand found your thigh.

Max groaned, he had heard you once already and he was counting on hearing you again. Clothing was on the floor, his hand spread your legs apart and he looked at you, “Schatz” he breathed out. “Yes,” you replied, with a soft pant. That was all the reassurance he needed. It had been so long since you had felt like this and you welcomed every feeling, without holding back. Everything built up like waves and came crashing down. “What if he’s written mine on my upper thigh?”

(all photo credits go to the respective owners)

#max verstappen #max verstappen x female reader #formula 1 #f1 imagine #joe burrow

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beanibon · 1 year ago

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Could you please write something short about Eriks eating reader out? His facial hair is driving me insane.

I've been adoring these eriks x reader short fics and I've been obsessed. Please this man needs more short fics about him.

TW: Oral (f!receiving), slight exhibitionism, reader owns a bakery.

~ Prequel ~ Part 2 ~

Your legs wobbled dangerously, arms struggling to keep your weight. It was hard being quiet especially, as the last customers of the day filtered out of the bakery, waving a final goodbye to you.

You desperately wanted to slam the closed sign against the door, but a strong arm kept you in place, holding you against the counter.

Cursing the man, you squeezed your thighs hard around his face, only for it to backfire as Eriks only mouthed your clit harder. Knees buckling as you faltered, the man beneath you grunting as your weight crushed him somewhat. Yet it didn't stop his relentless abuse of your pussy, hiking your cute dress up a little further to tease you as you quickly pulled it down.

"Bastard! The close sign isn't up yet, quit being a pervert!" You yelped, feeling the prickly sensation of his stubble brush against your plush folds.

"Can't help it, you're so cute when I can fluster you." The vibration of his words were agonising, leaving you to release a few moans you had been holding back.

The bell to the front door rung as he squeezed your ass, jolting at the sight on Lina. Now you two were deep shit.

"Hey Miss Y/N, sorry to bother you but have you seen Eriks? He's been gone all day and the last place he said he was heading off to was here." You swallowed, muffling a particularly loud moan that almost slipped through.

It was hard to think of an excuse, especially while you were still being eaten out by the man in question. But you managed something, despite it being suspicious by the constant stuttering.

"So-sorry Lina, Eriks did come through, but he-" another harsh squeeze of your thighs against Eriks skull, a silently warning to stop teasingly flicking your clit. "But he left a while ago, haven't seen him since."

Lina looked at you suspiciously, but thankfully didn't question you further. She thanked you as she turned to leave, opening the door.

"If you wouldn't mind Lina, can you flip the sign for me please?" She raised a brow your way, obliging as flipped the sign and left.

Sighing, you glared down at the blonde man beneath you, still happily writing his name with his tongue on your bud of nerves. You were going to kill him.

But that would have to wait, as once he got your orgasm crashing over you, collapsing on him as you moaned his name. Eriks yelped, tapping your back to try and get you off him.

Eventually you did shift your weight, leaning against the counter, panting heavily. You looked at him, massaging his neck as he gave you the biggest puppy eyes ever, your cum painted over his face.

"I think you strained my neck." Eriks whined, adjusting his neck until it cracked.

"Not my fault you wanted to eat me out in the middle of work, should've waited until after I closed." The giant man only gave you a childish pout, hugging your legs.

"But I couldn't wait that long, besides I promised Granny I'd be home for dinner this time, I wouldn't have made it if I waited for you to finish." He gave you wide puppy eyes, smiling as you knelt down to wipe his face with your apron.

"I love you, but geez you piss me off," You placed a tender kiss to his forehead, helping him stand up. "Now hurry up, before Lina comes back and catches you."

Eriks smiled, placing several feathery kisses to you face. "Can we do this again tomorrow?"

You shooed him out the door, locking it behind him. Fuck, you felt as if you were babysitting a giant Labrador at times. But you'd be lying if Eriks didn't make your core shiver at the idea of him between your legs, beard scratching against your cunt as he ate you out.

#trigun stampede #trigun #trigun smut #vash #vash the stampede #vash x reader #vash x you #eriks vash x reader #eriks x reader #vash smut #vash the stampede x reader #98 vash #98 vash x reader #trigun x reader #trigun 98 #trigun 1998

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crazycurly-77 · 4 months ago

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Memory Loss - Chapter 3

To help Gibbs as best as possible the whole team took their turns to visit him and speak with him.

Your turn was directly after Duckys and as you entered the sick room and seeing Gibbs lying there you nearly broke down as every time you saw him like that. Ducky stopped telling a story, looked up at you and saw your tears. Cautiously you neared the bed and thankfully Ducky hugged and comforted you while you tried to compose yourself.

“I know, my dear. We all take it hard. But he will get well soon, I'm absolutely convinced of that. And he will boss you around once more before you know it” he said.

“Ducky…thank God for this man. He is simply wonderful” you thought.

“I have just finished my story about my encounter with cannibals in the jungle and now have to go and cook for my mother. Will you be okay sitting with him for a while?” he inquired.

“Yes, surely. I hope I can tell him something interesting” you smiled.

“Sure you can, my dear. I think there's nothing you could tell him that doesn't interest him” he chuckled and winked.

“Will you call me when he wakes up?”

“Yeah, will do.”

“Good, then have a nice day. We will see each other tomorrow. If you need someone to talk to, just phone me.”

“Will do. The same for you, Ducky.”

Then he was gone and you were left alone with your still unconscious boss.

You walked to his bed and just looked at him. He looked so peaceful as if he was only sleeping. But after a few seconds you gulped and had to look away as your guilt consumed you once more.

So you sat down, softly grabbed his hand and began to narrate to him everything that came to your mind.

“Hey boss, here I am again. And I absolutely plan to tell you so much until you wake up to make me stop” you laughed lowly. But he didn't react, of course not, he was still in coma.

You sighed and tried your best to stay calm, to stay strong. For him. Because he needed the support of you all in the fight for his life.

“You know, we caught the suspect and arrested him. Tony beated him up quite badly so he nearly had to be hospitalized, but the man really earned this. Now we have to do a lot of paperwork….

…but hey, that's your goal, isn't it? Avoiding an awful lot of paperwork and making us do it all for you. Now I see…!!!”

You laughed to yourself and nearly wished that he would shout at you for telling such idiotic things. But still nothing happened.

So you continued.

“Can you imagine, we are all missing you badly. Nobody stays directly behind us unexpectedly, no head-slaps and no one commands us to do anything. Abby is running short on caf-pow and Tony…is simply himself. At the moment he is the team leader and boy is he enjoying it. He ordered us to call him sir! I think he urgently needs a good head-slap to stay on the ground and you are the only one who can keep him in check. So you see, we depend on you and need you very much.”

You babbled all that came to your mind and hoped that it helped him in some way.

Time flew by and soon Tim arrived to take over the shift.

“Hey Y/N, any changes?”

“No, but I nearly talked his ears off.”

You both laughed dearly and then you left the hospital to go home and sleep a little.

The next day you sat at Gibbs’ side and held his hand again and told him everything and nothing, but mainly you told him what's in your heart. At least what concerned his injuries.

“Hi Gibbs, here I am again. Who would have thought?” you laughed.

“Was a joke, don't think about it. In the office everything is as always, but you are greatly missed by everyone. Abby is beside herself and me…I don't know what to do. I can't eat, I can't sleep. It pains me to see you so sick and I'm feeling very guilty that you are sick because of me. When I think about it I wanna cry my eyes out of my head.

I can't thank you enough that you protected me, but what should I do without you? Please wake up.”

Tears were stinging in your eyes again. You were hopeless and wished nothing more than for him to wake up and be himself again. But there was still no reaction from him. So you left to go home and cried yourself to sleep once more.

(To be continued...)

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Here you will find the other chapters of this story and the other stories I've written to date.

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27

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#ncis #jethro gibbs x reader #gibbs #leroy jethro gibbs #gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #ncis fanfiction

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radiowallet · 1 year ago

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I Can

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Marcus Moreno Summary: Dieter and Marcus meet a second time. WC: 4K Warnings: 18+ MDNI Explicit sexual content. Exclusive M/M dynamics. Written in third-person POV, male protagonists, handjob, dry humping, dirty talk, praise kink, a smidge of edging. Mentions of food and drug use. Small angsty moments. AU Marcus Moreno (no wife, no Missy).

A/N: A Saturday night fic drop? Why not? I'm literally just a chaos demon at this point. Big thanks to @writer-wednesday for this prompt and for inspiring me to revisit my boys (and basically create a whole entire universe for them). This is a follow-up to my random little drabble You Can. I have wanted to revisit these boys for so long and when the inspiration struck, I couldn't help but run with it. Thank you to my beloved @jazzelsaur and @magpie-to-the-morning for listening and encouraging every unhinged thought inside my head. The very best of enablers.

Pretend Alleyways Masterlist II Main Masterlist

For any new writing follow @radiowallet-writes and turn on notifications.

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Dieter refuses to spend another meal in some stuffy, overpriced hoity-toity bullshit restaurant. Ever since his plane touched down at JFK he’s been dragged from meeting to table read to some supposed ‘life-changing’ meal and back again. Which, okay, there are worse things in life than a $100 dollar plate of food, but the pretentiousness of it all was starting to eat away at him.

And the problem with the meals in particular is that even if they were somehow able to change the trajectory of his life, there were only so many tiny portions of shaved truffle caviar foie bullshit he could eat.

No. Tonight he needs something else. Cheese, and bread, and beef. Something warm and comforting and covered in just a touch too much grease. Something he can purchase with a 20-dollar bill and bring back to his hotel room to eat while he watches something trashy on television, before downing an edible or two, and jerking himself off until he passed out.

Marissa, thankfully, was a manager who knew when he had hit his limit. She waved him away with only two reminders of his call time for tomorrow and a promise to send a car. Dieter half mumbled his acknowledgment before slipping out of the lobby that housed one of the many studios he had met with that day, turning left and disappearing into the crowded streets of downtown Manhattan.

This was Dieter’s favorite part of the city. Sure, it was too loud. Too busy. Too bright. But hiding in plain sight? That became easy. Even in his most outlandish of outfits he blended in, able to make the walk to his hotel in relative peace.

He passes a myriad of carts on his way, each one smelling better than the last. He’s not sure what he’s craving, but Dieter is positive he’ll know it when he sees it. The sun has completely set by the time he turns the corner, the city lights guiding him towards the Park Hyatt just up ahead. And there, across the street, was a cart, neon signs for gyros and knish calling to him.

The line was only one man deep by the time he jaywalked his way over, the street light shining down like a spotlight, catching the actor’s attention almost immediately. Dieter stops short at the sight of him, the breadth of his shoulders and cut of his jaw enough to drag up a memory that has his toes curling and his belly swooping low. The memory of a frustrated frown shifting into a soft smile, brown eyes wide beneath thick glasses, a kiss that should have lasted a lot longer than it did.

He’s traded the tux from that night in for a black leather jacket and a pair of dark wash jeans, his head bent low, glasses slipping down the slope of his nose. Dieter smiles, stepping in line with a little more bounce in his step, his lips caught between his teeth, his appetite suddenly shifting. It seems he’s finally figured out exactly what it is that he’s been craving.

— — —

Marcus doesn’t really know how he feels about New York. He thinks maybe in another life he would hate it; one where he had a family at home waiting for him, someone to share the day-to-day mundane things with after all the superhero crap was put to bed. He probably would have pulled every string in the book to bring along this hypothetical family, and that thought alone takes his mood from sour to rancid. As it was, home, New York, Paris. It hardly mattered. He just wanted to wrap up the last of this press tour shit and get back to the real work.

There was only one more round of interviews tomorrow, most of them with the entire team. God willing, he could get away with a few quick answers and then nod along as the rest of the Heroics did the heavy lifting.

He was supposed to be out with the team right now. Drinks and dinner that he had (sort of) politely begged off, content with something hot and cheap to eat in the solitude of his hotel room. The smells from the Greek-themed cart had been calling to him since he first walked out of the Hyatt earlier that day and he was intent on stuffing his face full before passing out to the sound of some trashy reality show playing in the background.

He’s just starting to rationalize ordering one of everything, the Heroics Amex card already in the palm of his hand when the flick of a lighter and the smell of a cigarette catch his attention from behind. He wants to frown as the smoke invades his senses, the nasty habit once something that turned his stomach. But now all it does is drudge up a memory, almost 6 months old, but still there at the back of his mind; a dimpled grin and a searing kiss that left him aching.

He breathes in deep, letting the smell fill his lungs, humming at the bitter taste that coats his tongue. If he closes his eyes, he swears can almost feel the warmth of a breath on his neck, a man much too free for Marcus to keep, but who he wanted to anyway.

A loud cough yanks him back to reality, a gentle nudge urging him forward.

“Your turn, Heroic.”

Normally the call out would make his skin crawl, a signal to the beginning of either a very uncomfortable fan encounter or a 20-minute lecture on the interference of government sanctioned vigilantes. But the tone of the man is neither fawning nor judgmental, instead a teasing warmth that almost feels familiar. Marcus turns, an apology on the tip of his tongue and….

“It’s you.”

Dieter Bravo smiles around the cigarette dangling from his lips, all teeth and dimples and Hollywood charm, just as Marcus remembers.

“And it’s you.”

— — —

They end up ordering enough for two small armies, both men overtipping the patient cart owner enough that he promptly starts closing up shop the second they step away with their food. Marcus shrugs, the bag held tight to his chest, compelled to offer an explanation that Dieter didn’t ask for.

“Superhero metabolism.”

“I get it,” Dieter hums, wanting to put the other man at ease. It’s clear he’s wound just a bit too tight, the pressure of whatever responsibilities he carries with him not so much weighing him down as they do hold him up. Dieter thinks, assumes, the joy of being a hero left Marcus Moreno far too long ago, and he wonders if he could help him save just a tiny piece of it. Or at the very least get the man to smile once before they part ways again.

“I’m up for this gladiator thing. I have a feeling once I get back to L.A. it’s going to be all protein shakes and boiled chicken and green-colored juice. Probably best to indulge while I have the chance.”

Marcus frowns, shaking his head. “That’s not right. Starving yourself to hit some sort of stupid unattainable body image that was set by others.”

“Yeah,” Dieter hums, poking Marcus in one of his firm shoulders. “Can’t imagine what that’s like.”

The other man blushes and shakes his head. “Mine’s mostly genetics. Which…hearing out loud just makes me sound like an ass.”

“Mmm, I actually think your ass could use a bit of work,” Dieter clicks his tongue, eyes drifting around to Marcus’s backside.

His blush only darkens, and Dieter can’t help but delight in the reaction. “I’ll be okay, Heroic. All par for the course! Besides, it’s a 6-month shoot in Morocco. It’s been ages since I’ve been back there.”

“Oh, well…if you need help…I mean before you leave. Shit. I’m pretty handy in the gym, I mean,” he stammers out, hands clinging tighter to the greasy brown bag in his hands.

“Do superheroes make house calls?”

Marcus grinds his jaw to the left, his eyes shifting as far from Dieter’s as they can, but the blush remains. “If it’s something important.”

— — —

They’re staying in the same hotel. It shouldn’t surprise Marcus. Honestly, nothing should at this point, serendipitous coincidence managing to bring the two men together again despite all odds. They cross the street side by side, the doorman quick to open the door with a nod and a wave. Their steps echo through a seemingly empty lobby, most of the hotel guests having stepped out, their nights just getting started.

Dieter moves easily, the hand holding his food swinging back and forth in time with his steps. His jaws works effortlessly at the piece of gum he traded with the cigarette he had been puffing at, the tip of it crushed into the side of the hotel perfectly in time with their entrance. Marcus watches from the corner of his eye, admiring the way the other man moves, as if he’s dancing, each movement as fluid as the last.

The actor chatters beside him, an endless barrage of words that would be easy to write off as nonsense but despite that, Marcus finds himself listening with rapt attention. The actor talks about his meetings tomorrow, a chemistry read he hasn’t quite prepared for, an interview with Variety magazine scheduled directly after. Then he talks about the painting he had started before he left L.A. How he hopes the inspiration is still with him when he gets home.

By the time they get on the elevator, their shoulders brushing in the tight space, Marcus knows the type of bike Dieter owns (a 10-speed he likes to ride down to the pier), how he likes his toast (just shy of burnt, butter and jelly), and his plans for the night (food, edible, jerking off).

Marcus had even been caught up in the moment briefly, his own surprise at seeing the other man loosening his tongue just as it had all those months ago. He had stammered and stuttered in a way that he hadn’t since high school. He can’t seem to decide if he should be embarrassed or not, so he settles for quiet instead, only muttering his floor number once the elevator doors slide shut.

Dieter eyes him over his shoulder, the flecks of grey in the scruff of his jaw illuminated in the low light and mirrored walls. He leans closer, just enough to nudge Marcus’s shoulder, his smile slipping into something more tentative, mint and menthol and something sweet hypnotizing the heroic. He can’t help but match the other man’s movement, leaning in and licking his lips, trying to capture the taste on his tongue. Dieter doesn’t miss it, brown eyes flickering to Marcus’s lips and back again.

“Would you like some company?”

— — —

They ultimately decide to go to Dieter’s room, a joke about seeing the Penthouse tilting the actor’s grin to just this side of wolfish. Marcus is instantly drawn to windows, stretching from floor to ceiling, the whole city lit up, a glaring shine just beyond the glass.

“It seems brighter from up here.”

“The lights are so bright but they blind me,” Dieter sings beneath his breath, spreading out the food with careful dedication.

Marcus smiles at the sound of his voice, marveling at the sudden domestic turn his night has taken before placing his attention back on the skyline. Dieter moves around the couch to join him, carrying that same intoxicating smell with him.

“Haven’t you seen it from rooftops?”

Marcus shakes his head, eyes still glued to the sparkling spectacle in front of him. “The world looks too dark from that angle.”

Dark. Or Ugly. Honest. Yeah, Marcus can see everything from the rooftops, but none of it glittered. Not like this. Not like Dieter Bravo.

The tip of a finger, softer than he expected, touches his chin, the pressure light but insistent, impossible to ignore. He turns to find Dieter watching him, brown eyes reflecting the city stars back at Marcus, and he fights the urge to blink and miss what comes next. They move in together, almost close enough but not, and Dieter laughs, a soft chuckle that rumbles in his chest.

It reminds Marcus of that first kiss, so very long ago, down a dark alleyway, both of them pretending, for just a moment. He takes in a breath, a quick pull of air that steadies his nerves, before finally, finally, closing the last of the distance between them.

The kiss is soft at first, a brush of lips and a scrape of stubble. It’s faint, the sweetest shade of something new between the press of their lips, the taste of mint and menthol permeating his senses. Marcus can’t help but take one more, letting his lips linger on Dieter’s, his hands fitting perfectly along the dip of the other man’s hips.

It’s Dieter who deepens it, one palm sliding along the curve of Marcus’s cheek, the other grabbing where his leather jacket hangs open, fingers clenched into the fabric and yanking him closer. It’s the slip of a tongue between his lips that breaks him, a moan parting Marcus’s lips, the sound only encouraging Dieter to continue.

The hand on his hips pushes him back gently, one, two, three steps before they stop. Marcus pulls away to catch his breath but Dieter keeps him close, soothing the pad of his thumb across the flush of his skin.

“I missed you, baby.”

He wants to laugh, to point out it was just one kiss, and how? How could he miss him when he barely even knows him? But the endearment has him dizzy, the roof of his mouth tacky with desire, and all he can do is nod because yes. Of course, Marcus missed him too. What else was there to do but miss him?

He swoops in for another kiss, this time meeting Dieter’s tongue with his own, tasting him full on and groaning into the feeling. The noise seems to startle something awake in the other man, the grip on his cheek growing tight, his own strangled whine rising up the column of his throat.

When the kiss breaks, Dieter leans in, the scratch of his mustache rough where he hums his request in Marcus’s ear. “Can I take you to bed?”

“It’s been a while,” he can’t help but blurt out, pulling back to watch Dieter’s face carefully, preparing himself for the laughter and the teasing. “Almost 2 years.”

Still, Dieter doesn’t say anything, and Marcus can’t help but explain himself just a little bit more. “Most people can’t handle it.”

Marcus hates to say it. Hates the way it sounds and feels and tastes, the words bitter and biting on his own ears. The harsh, unrelenting truth that what he is will always be overwhelming for those that dare to love him. That the painful responsibilities that were forced upon by the realities of his genetics will always be the barrier around his heart. Most days it was easy enough to ignore, and in the time since had last felt another’s touch, Marcus had found a way to cope, where loneliness was just another weight he would bear in order to do what was right.

Dieter nods, eyes wide and frown small, an equal mix of understanding and pity marked across his features, as if to say ‘yeah, people can be assholes.’

And then he actually says it. “Assholes.”

There’s another kiss and then another, their bodies moving slowly back towards the couch. Dieter's fingers are skilled, pushing and pulling, Marcus’s leather coat hitting the ground seconds before his own. Those same fingers find their way beneath his shirt, mapping the planes of his stomach, the quiver of muscle chasing Dieter’s touch.

Marcus can only cling to the other man, refusing to part from their kiss for more than a second, breath traded back and forth, the only oxygen he ever needed between Dieter’s lips. His touch is insistent, smoothing at his heated skin, fingers digging into the flesh, the almost bite of his nails leaving Marcus gasping high and bright into their kiss. His glasses are pulled off somewhere in the fray, finding a home on the floor behind them.

“The …t-the bed?”

“Figured I’d take it easy on you,” Dieter grins in time with Marcus’s knees bending around the couch cushions.

They fall down together, Dieter immediately crowding into Marcus, his large hand palming where he strains beneath his jeans while he takes care to kiss each and every freckle scattered across Marcus’s. His hips buck immediately, even the gentle touch enough to send him lurching. Dieter is quick to soothe him, teeth nipping at his ear as he coos sweetly, the press of his hand only growing more insistent.

“Patience, baby. We have time.”

There it is again. That little endearment. Sweet and small, and so so much that Marcus can only moan, head falling into the crook of Dieter’s neck. Somewhere above him there is a chuckle, the sound vibrating from one man to the other, and Marcus can only hold on tighter as Dieter tugs at the zipper of his jeans. His breath hitches as the sound of it echoes inside his head, and he feels Dieter pause, only the brush of his thumb on the head of his leaking cock ground them to this moment.

Later, Dieter will confess, sweat cooling on Marcus’s temple, the actor's lips kissing the slick of it away, that he was watching him carefully at that moment. Desperate to see him fall apart, anxious to know if he needed to pull back. It’s then that they promise to say it. Always say it. Exactly what they need and what they want.

Secrets have never done either man any good.

Marcus leans into the light touch, awkward and needy, lips fusing to the curve of Dieter’s neck. There’s the musk of his cologne, something earthy and real clinging to his senses, mixing with the smell of smoke that always seems to burn around the other man’s edges. Marcus is ravenous for him, marking him with a bruising kiss, the steady chant of mine, mine, I wish he was mine thumping inside his chest.

Dieter doesn’t falter, pulling Marcus’s aching length from the confines of his jeans, a loose grip around the base as he continues to stroke the tip softly, gathering the bead of precum with the pad of his thumb. It’s more intimate than he expected, reputations always proceeding those in the limelight. Marcus should have known better, the camera always giving away more falsehoods than beautiful truths.

“Eager, aren’t we?” Dieter teases, not an ounce of cruelty in the words. Another kiss is gifted to Marcus’s neck, the drag of Dieter’s tongue follows, his own groan pouring out of him. “I’m gonna make you feel so good. I promise.”

The effect of his words is maddening, and Marcus takes care to muffle his whine into Dieter’s neck, teeth and tongue still working along the salt of his skin. The actor is only encouraged by this, continuing to purr little drops of filthy encouragement into his ear as he starts to stroke Marcus from base to tip.

“Been too long since someone made you feel this good,” he hums, twisting his wrist lightly each time he strokes up the length of Marcus’s cock, the velvet heat of his skin catching on the other man’s palm. The friction is almost too much, a staggering sort of gasp breaking past his lips as Dieter’s voice continues to coach him through each and every stroke of his hand.

“You look so good like this, baby. So good. You can fuck my hand if you want. Go on, use your hips.”

The prompt is all Marcus needs, his hips canting up to meet Dieter’s touch. His fingers dig in hard, one hand finding purchase on Dieter’s forearm, the other wrapped around the curve of his shoulder. He anchors himself to the other man, fucking up into his fist faster and faster and faster still.

“Feel good? Hmm?” Dieter asks, the hook of his nose pressed into Marcus’s temple, lips teasing the swell of his cheek. “Fucking someone else’s hand instead of your own?”

Marcus stutters out a ‘yes’ the word lost between his cries of pleasure. Dieter continues to indulge in the noises, each one helping to shift the weight of his touch, the grip around Marcus’s cock soft then hard, the pressure building faster than he can take in breaths. He tilts his head, eyes searching frantically, a desperate plea tumbling from his lips and hanging thick in the air between them.

“Kiss me.”

And Dieter does, lips molding to Marcus’s, the tip of his tongue tracing the seam until finally, he parts beneath, another moan for him to swallow. All the while, his pace is consistent, up and down, faster then slower then faster again. It’s indulgent, the way Dieter touches him, relishing in each pulse, every sound, and Marcus loses track of how long it’s really been. The pleasure is blinding, keeping him tethered to the edge of the cliff, release blissfully out of reach.

“Bet you look so pretty, all cock dumb, hmm? I’d love to see that,” Dieter teases and Marcus agrees, can only agree, something ragged taking over his sensibilities.

He continues to move with the other man, rising up into the open air, hips awkwardly meeting each and every caress of his hand. Dieter moves with the same freedom he had in the hotel lobby, his own hips grinding up and down, the length of his cock hard and pulsating where it presses into Marcus’s side. Their kisses only grow more wild, just a sloppy press of lips, off-centered and well-intentioned, as they both work closer and closer to the crest of arousal.

Dieter remains focused, his own pleasure secondary to that of the Heroic’s. The kiss breaks just in time for something white hot to settle at the base of Marcus’s spine, everything grows tight and bright and so so sweet. Teeth scrape along his jaw, the tip of a tongue soothing the same path, Dieter’s words coaxing him up to the top of the hill.

“You’re close, baby. So close. Go on, you can let go. I’m right here.”

It’s all Marcus needs, the last of his strength giving out as everything burns, thick ropes of white cum spilling out of him. Dieter hums, using his seed to smooth out his strokes, and continues to whisper little bits of praise into Marcus’s ear.

“I know. I know, baby. You’re doing so good. Tell me if it’s too much.”

It is. It is too much, the way Dieter keeps stroking his cock, half hard and still dribbling drops of cum around the curl of his fist. But Marcus refuses to stop him, leaning into the painful overstimulation until the tips of his fingers go numb, his moans breaking out into sobs, tears tracking down his cheeks to mix with his sweat. Dieter decides for them both then, his hand finally slowing, giving Marcus a chance to adjust to the light touch before pulling away for good, the palm of his hand sliding a sticky trail up his cheek.

It should feel filthy, Marcus’s own cum pressed into his skin while Dieter grinds his cum soaked pants into the dip of his hips. But even now, Marcus can feel his cock twitch in interest, the moment so very decadent and dirty and leaving him hungry for more. Dieter grins, licking his lips, clearly agreeing with whatever look that is crossing Marcus’s features, swooping in for one more kiss, this one there and gone, a fleeting breath of him that leaves him whining.

But Dieter doesn’t go far, his hand smoothing up to push back an errant curl, brown eyes impossibly deep, and he takes his time to kiss away each and every tear. When he pulls away, it’s only to whisper a quiet promise. “I can.”

Marcus tilts his head, his confusion unspoken, the haze of his orgasm still gripping tight to his senses. Dieter takes it in stride, his smile growing, confident and cocky with how dumb he’s rendered the heroic.

“I can handle it,” he clarifies, dragging his hand down to rest his thumb where Marcus’s lips part, the faintest taste of himself waiting there. “Can you?”

And all Marcus can do is nod. Because. Yes. Of course. Of course, he can. What other answer is there?

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

Pretend Alleyways Masterlist II Main Masterlist

For any new writing follow @radiowallet-writes and turn on notifications.

Dedications:

To my dearest, my wonderful enablers @jazzelsaur and @magpie-to-the-morning who have listened to me talk about these boys ALL. WEEK. Literally, every random thought I had about Dieter and Marcus, together or separate, was blasted into their DM's. I have become a woman possessed. The best friends a girl could ask for in these trying fandom times. Thank you both, for loving me and my boys.

#Dieter Bravo #Marcus Moreno #Dieter Bravo x Marcus Moreno #male on male #the bubble fic #we can be heroes fic #pedro pascal characters #Pretend Alleyways

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thru-the-grapevine · 2 years ago

Text

Like Breathing

Pairing: Vernon x fem!reader

Summary: Vernon wants to make sure Valentine’s Day is done right. Thankfully, so do you.

Word Count: 1.8k

Tags: fluff, pillow forts, fade-to-black mature content near the end (minors dni just in case)

Author’s note: Happy Valentine’s Day! May we never forget who my OG ult bias is :)

It was days like this that Vernon was convinced you were perfect for him.

He glanced down at you, flopped on your back across his lap, fidgeting absently as you watched the movie playing on the screen. You glanced up at him, noticing his focus shift to you, and smiled sweetly before looking back at the movie again.

It had been your idea to stay in tonight, something you’d suggested a couple weeks ago.

“Everyone’s always going out and doing stuff on Valentine’s Day,” you’d texted. “Way less exhausting for us if we get takeout and watch like Star Wars or something.”

He’d agreed without extra thought, glad you felt the same. Why bother doing something out of the ordinary when you’d both rather be doing what you usually did?

And he didn’t normally second-guess himself on these things; he didn’t need to. Being with you had always felt as easy as breathing to Vernon. You’d never needed grand gestures or elaborate plans out of him, had always liked him for exactly how he liked to be, unassuming and quietly affectionate. It felt relieving, especially after all the idol pressures at work. Being with you was like taking a deep breath of fresh air after tense, short breaths all day.

But he’d heard his groupmates talking about Valentine’s Day plans as they spent time together in the studio and the practice rooms, workshopping their late spring comeback. His groupmates with partners were taking them places for Valentine’s Day, giving them things, some of them planning the day out with detail.

“I’m not making a habit of it,” Mingyu had said after sharing some of his plans. “But it’s a day specifically made to be special, right? An excuse to get creative, to give them something they haven’t wanted to ask for. So I’m going for it.”

And Vernon had pondered, absently at first, whether you’d want anything like that from him. Something special on a special day. Then he began wondering if there were things you wanted to do or try or have that you hadn’t wanted to ask for before. But that was silly; you’d never implied anything like that, so he was fine.

Probably.

The closer to the day he’d gotten, the less sure he became of that. The less sure he became of himself. Being with you was easy as breathing…but was it too easy, too effortless? Was he trying hard enough for you?

“Would you be interested in going to this one place tomorrow night?” He’d texted you yesterday night on a whim.

“Oh, did you want to go someplace?” You’d responded.

No. “Yes.”

You’d sent “👀” in response, and he’d given in. You always seemed to be on to him.

“So there isn’t anything different or more interesting you’ve secretly been wanting to do and haven’t told me about?”

“Vernon 😂” you’d texted. “If I wanted to do something else with you I would talk to you about it like a normal person, I promise ❤️”

He’d gone to bed relieved. And then, of course, woken up second-guessing it again.

“Let’s try it out anyway,” he’d texted you around lunchtime, watching some of his groupmates getting plans together and sending partners things. “Just to say we did, and then we can come home and do what we always do.”

And he’d been so busy mentally preparing himself to be around people, to be in a more formal atmosphere, to impress you so much that you’d never doubt that he cared, that he never realized you’d never replied.

He walked into your apartment to find it dark, only to flip the nearest switch and come face to face with a massive blanket fort in the living room.

“Um…babe?” He called, toeing off his shoes and drinking in the fort. It was rather impressive; how long had this taken you?

“Don’t you look nice.”

He looked down to see you sitting at one of the entrances to the fort (because yes, it did look like there was more than one), cross-legged, donned in one of his hoodies.

A sheepish smile played at the corners of his mouth. “So, uh…what’s all this?”

He couldn’t remember the last time you looked this shy. “Um…happy Valentine’s Day?”

He blinked. “Oh?”

“I know it’s not exactly going out somewhere,” you said, words rushing out like you were afraid he’d stop you. “But it just…seemed more us? And look, I even—”

You leaned back through the fort entrance, rustling something plastic, then re-emerged with a stuffed plastic bag in hand. “I got takeout. It’s from that one place you mentioned, since you sounded interested in it.”

He raised his eyebrows, letting the information slowly sink in, a tension he hadn’t noticed in his chest beginning to loosen.

You sighed and set the takeout bag down, standing and approaching him slowly. “I should’ve said something, maybe. It’s just…I dunno, it sounded like you got in your head a little, because I know you sounded happy about just staying in a couple weeks ago, and I thought I’d put together something you might actually like doing, just in case you wanted the option—”

You cut off as he scooped you into a tight hug.

“I fucking love you,” he sighed, and it was like he could breathe again. No going out, no big impressive gestures, no frills or flair. Just getting to be with you, as him.

God, he loved getting to be himself with you.

He felt you sigh and grin against his shoulder before wrapping your arms around him, hugging him back. “Love you too, Vern’.”

He basked in the soft warmth of you for a long, long moment, certain the feeling of you in his arms was his favorite.

“Am I allowed in the fort all fancy?” He mumbled, remembering he’d dressed nicer in anticipation of going out.

You laughed. “You left some practice clothes here last week that I washed, if you want to change.”

“Amazing. You thought of everything.” He leaned back, gazing at you, fond. God, he loved you so bad. He was truly fucked.

Your lopsided smile was a mix of bashful and affectionate. “Wanna eat and watch some Star Wars in my badass blanket fort?”

“Hell yeah I do,” he said, a grin spreading over his face. “How long did that thing even take you?”

“Literally all day. Please love it.”

“It’s the best in the whole world,” he reassured you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before letting you go to find his practice clothes.

There was something truly wonderful, something safe and pleasant, knowing the whole world was outside your apartment, bustling around doing things, and that Vernon could be in here away from all of it with the only person worth being not-alone with on Valentine’s Day. He loved the comfort of his practice clothes that now smelled like you, the coziness of your blanket fort decked out in fairy lights, the ease and interest of trying and swapping bites of the new takeout with you.

It was that it was all you, he thought, not bothering to concentrate on the movie when you’d finished eating, preferring to drink you in, instead. You made all of this the preferable option. You made some of Vernon’s favorite things better. It felt almost too good to be true, that he could have something so wonderful, the happiness of you with him. And now, just sitting together in contented silence, he didn’t see how it could get much better.

You stretched and shifted your hips as you watched the movie, and Vernon kept a steadying hand on your hip, feeling the sliver of skin between your joggers waistband and his hoodie—and something else.

He paused, glancing down at your hip. Gingerly, he moved his hand enough to reveal a small slip of lace.

“What’s this?” He asked, thumbing along the fabric again, fascinated.

“Oh,” you said, and when he glanced up at your face he was met with a cat-like grin. “Nothing. Hardly anything. Here, look.”

He felt his throat go dry when you tucked your thumbs into the waistband of your joggers and lifted your hips, wriggling until the fabric bunched around your knees. You leaned back, resting your hands above your head, the hem of his hoodie riding up to give him a better view. A pair of pretty, sheer lace underwear rode low on your hips, tinted in his favorite color.

“Christ,” he muttered under his breath, reverent. He traced his thumb along the lacy band again and tried to remember how to breathe.

“Nice, right?” Vernon could hear you smiling but couldn’t tear his eyes from the newly exposed sight. “And it may be part of a set.”

He nearly choked on his own tongue. Fuck. He glanced up at you, eyebrows raised.

“…Is that so,” he rasped.

You nodded, looking especially pleased with yourself, then sat up.

“It’s just that, well,” you mused as you maneuvered yourself to straddle his lap, “you sounded like you were interested in some variety today, and I don’t always get a chance to be fancy like this, so I thought, you know, why not?”

Why not, indeed. God. This was variety Vernon could get behind. He settled his hands at your hips, sliding them up beneath his hoodie to rest at your waist.

You grinned, leaning in until you were nose to nose. “If you’re really good I’ll let you take it off of me. You can be good for me, can’t you, Vern’?”

“I fucking love you,” he groaned, tilting his chin up just as you leaned in and kissed him hungrily.

Turns out there was a way tonight could get better, after all.

The movie was long over by the time the two of you relaxed again, piled in a tangle of limbs amongst strewn pillows in the blanket fort. Vernon stroked gently along your bare spine, sighing.

“I really didn’t put in any effort for you tonight, did I.”

You snorted. “Babe, we’re not allowed to have sex like that for you to say you’ve put in no effort for me.”

“No, I mean,” he said, abashed grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Just like, in general today. I was going to impress you, I swear I was, I just…”

You propped your chin on his sternum, frowning at him. “Vernon, you don’t need to impress me. You’ve already got me. You got me without the impressing, to be honest.”

He glanced down at you. “I just don’t want you to think I don’t care enough, or that I’m not willing to make any effort for you, or something awful like that.”

Your face softened into something warm. You leaned up and pressed the gentlest of kisses to his mouth.

“I don’t think that. I could never think that. You were willing to get fancy and go out, things you don’t like doing on your own time, just for me. I’d be stupid not to see that for what it is.”

He smiled then, lifting his hand from your back and stroking his fingers through your hair.

“Love you,” he whispered.

You grinned. “Sap…love you, too.”

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ann-writes-universes · 2 years ago

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Foxglove (Cassian x Reader) Pt. 1 SMUT

A/N: Consider Cassian territory, entered. ALSO: based before the archeron sisters bloodline is even in existence (99% sure of that at least lmao)

Warnings: SMUT (Like Im talking 2k worth of this is filth).

W/C: 5k!

There was not many activities in existence you enjoyed more than this. A peaceful afternoon, warm sunlight, and the solitude of a foxglove field that sat on the outskirts of Velaris. Pinks, purples, and soft blues patterned the field, its view a downward glance to the city you had called home your entire life. If you listened closely on a particularly clear day, music from the rainbow could be heard floating on the summer breeze. Today, thankfully, was one of those days. You were stretched on the grass, lazing away your only day off this week. The leathers you usually adorned had been swapped for a sundress the color of lamb’s ear leaves.

Often, on days such as this you found yourself pondering a plethora of topics. The solitude of your little hide away dredged up memories long past. The wind would bring in the scent of jasmine, or a particularly fond lute note and your mind would wander away from the pages before you and into a far off place.

Reflection of the past was such a beautiful thing. Though, truthfully, you supposed it was also completely unfair. Being able to reminisce on what once was, had the capabilities to bring back fond memories, beautiful pieces of time that hung fondly in your mind. Yet- it had the power to bring back those awful shards of time that left your chest cleaved and your breath coming in short spurts.

“I figured you would be here.” Cassian spoke, his voice dragging you from a particularly fond recollection of a day spent on the shore with Amren and Mor. Standing over you, his stature cast a long shadow over your form. You smiled up at him, staring at him momentarily before closing your eyes once more.

“I thought you had tomorrow off?” You replied, sighing contently as the male sat behind you and gently pulled your head to rest on his outstretched legs. He ran a hand through your unbound hair, studied the strands.

“I did. Decided I would rather spend today with you than the troops.”

You relaxed into his body, relishing in the warm sunlight that had returned to your skin. You were sure that if you were to open your eyes, you would find him smiling lazily, relaxing his weight on his arms and tilting his face into the sun. Cracking open an eye, you were pleased to find yourself right.

This particular version of your mate was your favorite. The sight of his shoulders no longer tensed and the crease in his brow faded from view. His hair too, was unbound for once- and it shined a silky noir in the summer sun. Reaching backwards you urged him to hold your hand, a request he obliged with no qualms.

“I can't say I have many complaints you took today off, I have missed you.” You muttered, closing your eye once more. He chuckled, a throaty sound that warmed your bones.

“I saw you this morning.”

“I know.” You sat up to your knees then, the motion urging him to open his eyes and watch. A smirk curved over your lips and he watched as you turned your head to face the open expanse before you. From this position not only was Velaris visible, but where the Sidra opened up to the western sea was also in sight.

“I often forget how lucky we are to live in a place so beautiful.” You mused aloud, still watching where the distant waves crashed onto the golden shore. What a blessing such a sight was. “I hope it stays like this forever.”

Cassian sighed behind you, and shifted to sit crossed legged. You turned your head to face him once more, and upon seeing the downtrodden look he sported your smile faded and brows creased.

“About that.”

“Dont tell me you took off today to give me bad news.” It was a hopeful statement, but pointless as he looked at you. The stark beauty of his honey gaze was haunted.

“(y/n)...” He was searching for what to say. You could almost see the gears shifting in his brain. This alone clued you in and you turned to face the shore and city below. The blow you knew was to come had your spine straightening and shoulders squaring.

“This is about Hybern, isn't it?”

“Rhysand says the war is coming. He’s made his final decision on where we stand.”

“I hope he made the right one.”

“We will fight alongside the humans.”

You nodded. Leaning forward you plucked a light pink foxglove stem from the ground. Twirling it in your fingers you pondered the color, the shape, how it smelt, and the fragility of it in your palms. With a thought it was a puff of pretty pink dust floating away on an incoming breeze.

“Good.” Was all you had to offer to his statement. He shifted, scooting impossibly close to cage you between his legs. Ever so gently he pulled you into his chest. Relaxing into the broad expanse of muscle you rested a hand on his arm draped across your chest.

“A lot of lives are gonna be lost. Can you handle that?” He whispered, breath fanning your ear. You stared at his tattooed hand resting on your leg, mulled over his words. They were not patronizing, more laced with concern than anything. You had never seen violent death. Cassian and the rest had seen more of it than deemed normal by most, and despite the vigorous training you had gone through your entire life, you had never been exposed to the violence and terror that coursed through the Illyrian blood your mate had.

“I have no choice.” You replied finally. He tilted his head down to gaze into your eyes. They were impossibly sad as they gazed at you. You knew he was terrified of you being exposed to the horror of war, a thought he had expressed to you when this problem had come to fruition. “Things need to change, and this is the only way.”

He nodded at your words, turned his eyes towards the horizon. A deep sigh heaved in his chest and you bit down on your lip, following his eyes towards the sun settling in the afternoon sky. Rhysand would want to see you all soon, prepare you. Tonight’s dinner was surely to be patterned with conversation of strategy and battalions, but for now you settled further into Cassian’s embrace. If war was inevitable, you wished to stain this moment into your mind. Soon, the peaceful images of the sea and your beloved home would be tarnished by blood soaked battles and ice cold camps in the mountains. For now it was the sweet scent of the foxglove and the warm embrace of the soul you loved most.

And for now, that would do.

⥈

Dinner started out quietly, everyone in attendance too content in the silence to broach the subject. Even Cassian, who was usually chatty at this time of night was stark silent beside you as he ate a dinner of lamb and wine.

From his spot at the head of the table, Rhysand looked impassive. Always the stoic one, he ate with a crease permanently enlaid in his brow. Azriel across from you wore a twin expression, and Amren was characteristically silent with an empty plate before her. Morrigan was seemingly the only one who looked happy with the quiet, filling her second glass of the half hour.

“I’d like to start by saying that I love you all.” Rhysand spoke finally, bringing his hands up to clasp them before his face. Five sets of eyes turned to face him, and silverware was quietly set down. Beneath the table, Cassian found your hand and offered it a gentle squeeze.

“You all know what the next few months will bring, and I just want you all to know that.” He made it a point to hold each gaze as his eyes traveled around the table. You offered him a smile, one he returned weakly before he was placing his napkin on the table and leaning backwards in his seat.

“Its going to move quickly. Hybern has already begun to send troops across the sea.” Azriel chimed in, shadows licking the tips of his wings fervently as he revealed their information.

“I have had spies in the courts for months. It seems as though Tamlin-” Everyone’s breath caught, and subtly you looked to Rhys who’s eyes had clouded and jaw tightened. “And Berron Vanserra will be his strongest allies.”

Everyone nodded with bated breaths.

“I’ll have a camp set up with Illyrian troops in the Summer court.” Cassian spoke, voice strong as whiskey. Your hand tightened on his. Despite his heritage along with your friends’ the Illyrians had never failed to terrify you, though some part of you supposed they were terrified of you.

“Tarquin has agreed to aid our forces, as has Helion.” Rhysand murmured, gaze still foggy from the mention of his ex-confidant. “His soldiers are strong, but his forces are new. As are the human’s.”

“(y/n), are the Valkyries prepared?” Amren inquired, turning her gaze away from Rhysand to face you. Clearing your throat you took a deep sip of your wine, nodding.

“There are young ones, even younger than me but Njeri is confident they will be useful.” Amren nodded at your words, mulled over the possibilities young fae presented. It struck you then- the youth at this table. Rhysand and the boys ranging from 28 to 24, and yourself and Mor only 22. Those you would go up against…Hybern was ancient, skilled. The panic that began to rise in your throat was dangerous, so much so that you sent your mind to a far away place. When your had loosened in Cassian’s grip and your breathing slowed he removed his grip, focused on the far away look in your eyes before they closed.

“I hate when they do that…” He muttered, shuddering outwardly. Mor could not stifle the laugh that bubbled from her throat, a noise that had everyone smiling.

“I think its fascinating.” She quipped, studying your relaxed features.

“You know I can still hear you?” You mused, blocking out any further responses until the ilk had released its hold on your chest and slunk back to the furthest recesses of your mind. Rolling your shoulders you relished in the pop of joints before opening your eyes to look at Rhysand. He was waiting patiently, knowing you had something on your mind.

“When do we leave?” You asked the dreaded question, unsure if you really wanted the answer. Rhysand sighed and he too finished off his glass before replenishing it. Glancing between both Azriel and Cassian his gaze hardened and he turned it towards the grain of the wooden dining table.

“Two days from now we will head to the Summer court. Tomorrow we head to the mountains with Cass to ensure his troops are ready. Amren will stay here to hold Velaris.” He had found a scratch in the table particularly interesting. Rubbing his finger over it he tapped the table a few times before looking up. “We will discuss further tomorrow. Until then, let us enjoy this together.”

Everyone nodded tightly, continued in meaningless conversation while the impending war loomed over your heads. Tomorrow you would prepare the Valkyries with Njeri, see who was ready and who was not. Tomorrow you would ready yourself, say goodbye to your home, and make sure every inch of the River home was burned into your memory.

For now you ate with your friends, laughed at Mor’s recollection of a particularly fond Winter’s night, and this would be enough. It had to be.

Gazing at your friends you imprinted their smiles, memorized the sound of their laughter. You had never experienced war but knew that the young faces before you would harden, the laughs would quiet, and their smiles bright as the northern star would dull. You would go into this war young- soft. And those of you that returned would be hardened by horrors you did not wish to imagine.

Tonight you would pray to the mother that you would all sit at this table again, smiles be damned. But for now, this would be enough. It had to be.

⥈

“Can I join you?” Cassian questioned from behind the bathroom door. You sunk lower into the purple tinted bath water, the curve of your lips tilting upward with a smirk.

“Always.” You breathed. He entered quickly, shutting the door behind him and securing it locked as though someone would dare enter your shared room in the first place. He stripped himself of his shirt quickly, and stared down at you. You quirked a brow as he swallowed thickly, feigned innocence as that amber gaze drug the length of your submerged form.

“Are you going to stare, or get in? The water’ll get cold.” You chided, relaxing your head against the edge of the basin. He scoffed audibly and though your eyes were closed you sensed him moving about the room as he stripped bare. Playfully, he reached into the water to tap your sides and urge you forward. With a sigh of feigned annoyance you shifted enough for him to slide in behind you, his legs stretching impossibly long on either side of you.

“I think after this is over we should make Rhysand get us a bigger bath.” Cassian grumbled, the vibrato of his voice vibrating against your back. You chuckled and leaned your head against his shoulder, staring up at his dark lashes. The soak of your hair wet his skin and had rivulets of water streaking down the dark ink that marked his skin. His wings were dropping over the edge of the bath, sweeping the marble floors beneath.

“Good idea, babe.”

He smiled proudly and brought his arms up to wrap around your bare chest. You grasped his forearms, settled against him comfortably. The male released a low groan and shifted uncomfortably, the cause of his sudden discomfort becoming increasingly aware against the small of your back.

“Oh good gods, Cass.” You huffed, rolling your eyes in jest.

“I'm sorry.” He feigned, “You keep moving.”

“Oh whatever” You giggled, shifting to face him fully. Scooting to the opposite edge of the tub you ignored the whine he released in your absence, “Turn around.” You commanded, nodding towards him. Cocking his head he raised a brow in question.

“You are not getting into our bed without being clean. Day off or not you smell like a horse.”

He snorted a sarcastic, “Gee, Thanks.” But shifted nonetheless. Positions firmly swapped you lathered your hands with his sandalwood soap and got to work scrubbing the expanse of his back.

“Not to dampen the mood, but, you'll have to get used to me smelling like a horse when we don't have the luxury to do this.” He tossed out over his shoulder, tilting his chin to glance at you from the corner of his eye. You smoothed your hands over his shoulders, rested them on the top of his chest.

“You’re going to be clean, Hybern be damned.” You snorted, returning to scrubbing the day's grime from his body. The male only complained when you forced his head under to wash his silken locks, though his complaints were quieted with the fair view he had of your bare breasts.

“Sit up.”

“Oh, I'm quite content where I'm at.” He ogled, wiggling his brows playfully. You rolled your eyes, rinsing out the last of the suds in his hair before swiftly standing effectively sending his head that was precariously perched on your knees into the soapy water. You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of your throat when he emerged sputtering, hair smattered across his face.

“Cruel, wicked female.” He groveled, watching with peak interest as you sauntered into the bedroom, still sopping wet.

He wasted no time in following, and found himself rock hard at the sight of you sprawled across the night dark bedspread. A gust of your magic and the open window was closed, effectively shutting out the noise of those still awake in the city beyond. Your head was propped in a hand, the free one tracing the golden threads of the blanket.

“I suppose if there is no time for bathing in war, there will be no time for fucking?” The vulgarity of your words had his prick twitching against his stomach. Swallowing thickly he shook his head, a gentle ‘no’. You only nodded in reply and rolled onto your back, clasping your hands below your breasts.

“Well then we better make use of what time we have left,” You turned your head towards him, noted the wetness gathering at his tip, “shouldn't we?”

Cassian practically lept on top of you, caging you in muscle and wing. The membranous expanse shielded you from the room, the light still burning in the bathroom shining through the webbing. You had always found them so beautiful, flecked with a map of silver scars from stories long passed. Reaching upward you let a hand trail gently down the expanse, a motion that had Cassian shuddering and sucking in a deep breath.

Resting his weight on an arm he reached upward and captured your chin in his grasp, pulling your gaze back towards his own. His hair, still wet from earlier, hung in soaked strands by his face, tickling the tips of your cheeks.

“I’ve always thought you were the most beautiful thing I will ever see.” He whispered, gaze trailing from your eyes, to the pout of your lips, and the slope of where your throat met your collar. His hand followed his gaze, tracing, memorizing.

Leaning down the male pressed a firm kiss into the junction of your throat, pressing downward to suck gently at the spot. The only sound you were capable of replying with was a breathy moan. Calloused fingers continued to travel over the planes of your body. They paused momentarily on the swell of your breast, held the weight in his palms before they continued their ghostly path downward. You were writhing beneath his touch. He smirked against your throat, lifted his hand away each time you pressed into it. It stilled on your hip and grasped it firmly when you released a wine and pressed your hips upward, rutting against his length.

“If you don’t stop, this will be over a lot sooner than I want it to be.” He growled into your ear, nipping at the lobe before continuing his assault on your neck, moving to your chest only when he was satisfied that the blossoming purple would still mar your throat tomorrow.

“If you dont touch me, it’ll stop right here.” You challenged, glancing downward at him through your lashes. He smirked, challenge accepted.

“You want me to touch you?” He questioned, voice tinged with a playful mocking. You nodded fervently, keenly aware that he had released your hip and was hovering over where you needed him most.

“Alright.”

His hands were back on either side of your head. Releasing a pitiful groan you frowned at him. The general only winked before continuing his path downward with his lips. Your legs were shifting beneath him so much that he wedged his body firmly between them, not uttering a complaint when they wrapped around his waist. The further down he slipped the higher your legs slid upward until they were caging his head between your thighs. His body had slid off the bed, and he had drug you forward. Sitting on his knees the male was eye level with your dripping sex. If you could paint at all you would have this view hanging above the mantle in your room.

“If only your soldiers could see you like this.” You hummed, sitting up on your elbows. “The mighty Cassian, on his knees for a fe-” Anything else that was meant to be said was silenced as he descended and licked a firm stripe up the center of your cunt. The noise you emitted was a mixture of a laugh at his timing and an absolutely vile moan. You felt him smirk against you, and his fingers dug impossibly deep into your hips to stifle your writhing body.

“Holy fuck.” You whispered breathlessly, snaking your hands down to tangle in his hair as he began to suck and lick relentlessly. Your thighs pressed him downward, urging him onward. Cassian moaned into you, the grip you had on his scalp encouraging his motions. Completely void of motor function your left leg loosened, sliding down his back and caressing his wing. The touch had the male growling. No longer was the general focused on soft love, he was going to fuck you into the mattress until the sun came up and they drug you away from him. This much became clear when he locked eyes with you through the curtain of his hair. The determined set of his brow as he devoured you was nothing short of pure sin.

He was anything but gentle as he shoved two fingers into you without warning, the stretch had your eyes rolling into the back of your head and your body collapsing to the bed. He chuckled inwardly and began to pump the digits with impossible quickness. If Cassian knew anything at all, it was how to make you scream, and that you were. If he cared at all for the others sleeping in the house, he would have reached a hand up to silence your cries. But as he watched you unravel before him he couldn't have given less of a damn if everyone in Velaris heard you.

Between his fingers and tongue it didn't take long before your orgasm was ripping through you violently. He worked you through the shudders, still pumping his fingers slowly as he trailed back up your body, sucking and licking as he went.

When he was level once more with your eyes, your gaze was hooded. Your arms were splayed above you, hanging off the edge of the bed from where he had pushed your body back onto it. He was straddling your left leg, shoving his knee firmly between your legs to keep them from closing.

“Youre so pretty.” He murmured, trailing a hand down your throat as he watched you. His upper lip was slick with your wetness and as you brought his face to yours the taste of yourself on his lips spurred you onward. It didn't take much for you to push him onto his back, and he didn't complain when you lowered to straddle his waist. He moaned through gritted teeth as you rubbed your sex along the length of him. His hands raised to grip your hips with a bruising pressure once more.

There was nothing more bewitching than to watch Cassian’s face as you sank onto him, settling the entirety of him inside of you. His lids fell closed and his lips parted in a guttural moan, brows creasing impossibly close. It was empowering, knowing you were the only thing in all of Prythian that could have him this intimately. That though alone had you rolling your hips against his, setting a slow pace. It wasn't often he let you take control, and you were basking in the rush it sent through you. With shaking arms he pushed upward, sitting fully so he could be eye to eye with you as you rode him.

You could have sworn he was drooling as he watched your breasts move with the reverberations of your motions.

“Beautiful…” He trailed off, raising a hand to cup your jaw and drag you to his lips. You met them with a bruising force, tongues clashing with teeth and skin. It was sloppy, but the love was there. Bright as the sun and powerful as the ocean against the shore the love you shared shone down the bond, pulling it taut.

With skilled precision he had you pressed face down on the mattress within seconds, pulling out only momentarily to drag your hips upward before he was slamming back into you once more. He set a punishing pace, the room filling with the vile sounds of slapping skin and blissful moans. He had a hand pressed into the back of your skull, tangling in your hair tightly. Groaning at the pull you gripped the bedspread, clinging to it for dear life as he hunched over you, taking the skin of your shoulder between his teeth. His weight was pressing you forward, and the hand tangled in your locks dropped down to keep your head from slamming into the thick oak headboard.

Neither of you could help but chuckle at the fleshy thump of his hand colliding with the wood instead of your forehead.

“Whoops.” He breathed, slowing momentarily to drag you away from impending brain damage. Gently he gripped you beneath the arms, drug you upward against his chest he rested his head on your shoulder, picked the pace back up. Your neck fell impossibly limp, head falling backwards into his chest as he angled his hips and plunged deeper.

He was growing sloppy, chasing his release as he watched you begin to crumble. In a matter of seconds his hand was on your clit, pressing swift circles into it. He watched with dark satisfaction as your mouth opened in a silent scream and you broke beneath his ministrations. The sight of you fucked out in his arms made it impossible for him to last much longer and with an animalistic groan the general was emptying his seed inside of you, lowering your body back to the bed as he filled you.

It took everything in him not to smirk devilishly at the sight of you sprawled below him as he pulled out of you, dragging some of his seed with him. You were panting, fingers flexing against the sheets as you tried to gather yourself to no avail.

“If only the Valkyries could see you now.” He jested, mocking your earlier triumph as he pulled you into him beneath the blankets. He cocooned your body with his own, wrapping his limbs around you until the two of you were effectively tangled. You were content, unsure of where he ended and you began.

“You're an ass.” You mumbled into his chest, flicking his side for added measure. He shrugged and hummed into your hair, trying his best to detangle the still wet strands with his fingers.

“An ass that made sure you aided all of Prythian in knowing my name.”

“Cass?”

“Hmm?”

“Shut the hell up.” Despite the playful grit in your tone your cheeks were beet red. You didnt want to ponder too long on the things your friends would say in the morning. You made a mental note to personally apologize to all of them. Based on the smug look your mate wore, you were positive he would greet their complaints with not a singular fuck to give.

The next morning was somber.

To your pitiful glee, no one mentioned the night before. Though Az was sporting dark under eyes and tinged cheeks when you entered the kitchen for breakfast. You offered him a smile but the shadowsinger looked away quickly, clearing his throat before he was turning away to wash out his glass in the sink.

As of now it was just yourself, Azriel, and Cassian milling about the kitchen. Though you were moving through the motions of your daily routine, there was ilk hanging in the air. Leathers were donned by all three of you which was not unusual, though the arming to the teeth was. Azriel’s shadows flicked about his ankles anxiously, and Cassian was uncharacteristically quiet as he ate.

There was a collective decision between the three of you not to bring it up until Rhysand made his way downstairs, and when the heavy thud of his boots hit the first step downward you could not suppress the shudder that overtook you. He stood in the threshold of the kitchen, watching as your trio ate in silence. When it became apparent that you were all caught up in muddling thoughts he cleared his throat. When three sets of eyes were effectively on him he smiled tightly and bowed his head in greeting.

“We’ll go to the Steppes first. (Y/n) I need you to get into contact with Nadja. You will travel to the summer court with the Valkyries.” You nodded tightly, glancing at Cassian whose jaw was tight. “Mor is with Nadja already, she’ll travel with you.”

With soft eyes you returned your gaze to Rhysand, “We’ll leave today then. We’ll be slower on horseback than flying. It’ll take at least three days.”

“You're Not traveling on horseback. I have arranged for a ship to take you in order to avoid crossing any borders.” Rhys spoke, shoving his hands into his pockets, “I won't risk that until I know where everyone stands with us.”

Though the silence was deafening you nodded once more and rolled your shoulders back. Glancing between your friends you pressed this moment into your memories. The four of you standing in that kitchen, cramped with their wings and the building anxiety. The way Rhysand’s violet eyes dulled, the soft red glow of Cassian’s siphons, and the dark curl of Az’s shadows over his wings.

It would be a while before the four of you were together here again. You wished this wasnt something you feared would never occur again, the four of you together, doing something so simple as eating breakfast. But it was, and you were terrified.

But for now the feeling of safeness with the brothers would be enough, it had to be enough.

Steeling your nerves, you readied yourself for war.

TAGS:

@brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @younxii @momlo @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @highladyofillyria @crimsonandwhiteprincess @purplevitagen @isthataknuck @emptyporsche

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racingliners · 5 months ago

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So after @bbglewis told me to stop being silly, I am finally posting pictures from when I volunteered at the Euros after *checks notes* three years.

I was so anxious to talk about it a lot on here bc after Euro 2020 was (rightfully) postponed due to the pandemic I was so terrified to jinx me being there for the tournament because I wanted to be there and take part so much😭

Thankfully it was all fine and even though it was three years ago I can still remember it all so clearly and it really was just one of the Summers of my life so I'm FINALLY going to spend a bunch of posts yelling about it.

(bc well, better three years late than not at all)

To super quickly summarise how I ended up being a volunteer, one of my friends encouraged me to sign up so I did (while Glasgow was also one of the host cities of the tournament, London was actually more viable for me bc I actually had a place to stay with some relatives), the whole process in hindsight wasn't as stressful as I thought, and while the interview day at Wembley is a whole post in itself, it was still really fun going to Wembley for the first time and lo and behold I ended up getting picked.

On the application for we had to select which roles we were interested in, but the Volunteer Team ended up having the final say on what division we were part of (which, there are so many different volunteer roles that help make a football tournament happen, you guys have no idea). I ended up being a Mobility Maker, which was the front of house team based at the stadium on matchdays giving everyone directions, information, and welcoming everyone to the stadium.

Below are some pics from the Interview Day in 2019

(Spoiler alert there will be lots of Wembley pics, it's a very beautiful stadium).

So jump forward to the start of June 2021 and I get off the train to see Euston all spruced up for the occasion which was SO much fun, and as I type this it was 3 years ago tomorrow that I went to Wembley to get my accreditation and uniform (hilariously I had to go back the next day bc my shorts and trousers didn't fit.)

Some Wembley Arena fountain ASMR:

And we did get to keep our uniforms as well as a bunch of other freebies, I still wear various pieces from it to this day. And me being me, I wanted to fully commit to the bit and bring a bunch of different nail polishes with me so I could have a different manicure for each of my six shifts/matches, matching with all the colours from the tournament logo (it ended up being 5 due to the Semi-Finals being back to back, but I did get to fit all the colours in!).

I will of course showcase each match day manicure!

#Euro 2020 #seanagh does the euros #<- volunteering shenanigans specific tag

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baileys-3 · 11 months ago

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CHAPTER 18 NOW ONLINE on AO3

Sneak Peak:

As Tim stands in Lucy's bathroom taking off his jeans, he's still not quite sure whether he's embarrassed by the whole situation or whether he should see it as a new sexual experience. God, how could this happen? How could the whole situation turn into this? How could he lose control like that? How could dry humping be so ... intense? Fuck.

Next, he takes off his boxers and then stands there thinking about what to do with the ... dirty underwear and jeans. Rinsing them would probably be best.

His bag that Lucy retrieved for him from his truck is lying next to the bathtub. He obviously couldn't go himself. Once again, he is glad that he has made a habit of always having spare clothes with him. Whether at work or at home. An old habit that has paid off several times. Although never for this reason.

He starts to clean both items of clothing in the sink as best he can and then hangs them over the bathtub to dry. He finds a towel and a washcloth in a small cabinet. Lucy told him to make himself home and take whatever he needs. Lucy's soap has a citrusy scent. It could have been worse. She could have had a soap that smells of jasmine or roses or some other feminine scent. Citrusy is absolutely fine, it’s good even.

He splashes cold water on his face because that certainly won’t do any harm. He rummages quickly through his bag, though he doesn't have many options. He puts on new boxer shorts and then chooses to wear the dark blue sweatpants instead of jeans because they are more comfortable.

As he opens the door and enters the living room, he finds Lucy sitting in the middle of the couch, her legs crossed, holding a cup of tea and sipping it. The baseball game's last inning is playing on the television. He takes a quick look at the screen and realizes that the Dodgers have thankfully extended their lead and are now ahead by three points.

Lucy turns her head, offering a smile as he approaches. In just a few steps, he joins her and takes a seat. Lifting one knee, he lets the other foot dangle off the couch, positioning himself directly behind her, wrapping his arms around her. She leans back, snuggling comfortably against him, prompting a smile from him. Lucy's couch proves to be more comfortable and softer than his own at home, with a fabric cover compared to his leather-clad one. He contemplates how the contrast in their choice of couches reflects their distinct personalities yet acknowledges the magnetic pull that has always drawn them to each other.

She takes another sip of her tea. How many gallons has she consumed by now?

"Well, I suppose I'll have pancakes for breakfast tomorrow?" she remarks.

Unable to contain himself, he emits a brief, hearty laugh. "Yeah."

They sit there like that comfortably watching the rest of the game. At some point, Lucy places her mug on the table, and he puts his hand under her top, resting it on her stomach. He begins to draw slow circles on her skin, since he knows that the warmth and light pressure from his hands and circular motions can be soothing for stomach pains. He notices that Lucy snuggles up and relaxes a little more to him.

Lucy is the first to interrupt the comfortable silence between them. "I've got the night shift from Monday."

He's aware of that, obviously, because he's always familiar with her schedule. This has been the case ever since she was his rookie.

"I know that, for three days" he remarks.

"No. For five."

Damn it. Three days of nightshift bad enough already because he's on the day shift. This results in them working opposing schedules, and during those three days, the most they encounter each other is during shift changes at work. Even then, their interactions are limited to the station, where they must be cautious about their words, and physical contact is not possible. But five days? Five days will kill him. He already knows that.

#chenford #lucy chen #the rookie #tim bradford #tim bradford x lucy chen #chenford fanfic #archive of our own #tim x lucy #chenford fic #chenfordsource #lucy x tim #lucy and tim #ao3 link

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lonelywhalien22 · 2 years ago

Text

take a break

pairing: seonghwa x reader

rating/genre: fluff, college/school/work au

summary: a warm cup of tea and a break with Seonghwa is just what you need when work becomes overwhelming.

warnings: stress, anxiety, kissing

word count: 1k

song(s) to listen while reading: stone by alessia cara

note: sharing this piece I wrote when college was running me ragged (regular occurrence). I always imagined Seonghwa while writing it for some reason so I hope you enjoy!

You sit at your laptop for the millionth time today, having hopped out of the shower but still in no better of a mood, and certainly not excited to get back to your work. You came over to stay with your boyfriend Seonghwa at his place for the night, promising that you just wanted to finish up one assignment before the two of you could spend the evening together. But after discovering a project deadline that had completely flew under your radar you switched into panic mode. Half an hour turned into two hours and you still didn't see an end to the work in sight. Huffing in frustration, a pout on your face, you think about when the semester will finally be over. A sudden clink sound startles you as a mug of warm tea slides into your view.

"Long day?" you hear Seonghwa say as he gives you a soft smile while pulling a chair up behind you to sit down. He sits on it backwards, so that his front is facing the chair's back and his legs split off onto the chair's sides. You give a sheepish smile at him before looking back towards your laptop on his desk, fingers curling around the warm ceramic as you grab the mug thankfully.

"Yeah. I've just been struggling with this assignment all day and still haven't gotten it done. And now I just feel like I'm falling behind on everything else…I'm just so mentally over it, you know?" As you say the words you still can't look at him directly, afraid that you'll cry if you do. Seonghwa just hums softly, reaching forward to rub your arms slowly before eventually wrapping them around your upper body completely. He scoots his chair closer, laying his head on your shoulder as he stares at your laptop screen for a moment before shifting his attention to your pitiful expression.

"I know you put a lot of pressure on yourself sometimes," Seonghwa starts tentatively, "but you know you don't have to finish everything tonight, yeah?"

"Yeah, I know but it's just so hard to let it go sometimes. I'm just gonna keep thinking about it all night and then tomorrow I'll have to deal with it, which will put me behind on this other project that I haven't even started and I don't even know what I'm doing for that yet and-" Seonghwa sees your spiraling before you can catch it yourself and promptly leans in front of you, kissing the corner of your lips in a swift motion and immediately shutting you up.

"Hey, slow down y/n. Just take it one thing at a time, ok?" he says gently as he takes your chair and rotates it around to face him completely. It's the first time you've taken a moment to look at him fully this evening. His black hair is slightly falling into his eyes from the shower he just took and you finally rest your eyes on his dark orbs. Seonghwa gives you a knowing smirk then, fully aware he has you completely under his trance. This is the exact reason you still shy at looking him directly in the eyes. It feels so intimate and everything's still so new. You still feel those little somersaults in your stomach every time he looks at you.

"How about...you enjoy the tea I made, and give yourself till midnight to work, hm?" Seonghwa's sweet smile returns, giving you a little bit of a break from his charms. "Then promise me you'll stop and come to bed. You can't do any work tomorrow if you're tired either." Finally breaking away from his gaze, you sigh and look down.

"I know, I know…I'll stop at midnight. And I'm sorry I ruined the evening. We were supposed to hang out," you say regretfully. Taking this short break made you realize how much your original plans for coming over had changed. Seonghwa had welcomed you into his place and let you get changed and work undisturbed for hours. Now when you really thought about it you felt guilty.

"You didn't ruin anything, y/n. I'm just happy you came over."

Seonghwa's finger goes under your chin and pulls it back up to face him. He pauses and stares at you for a second, the gears clearly turning in his head before he decides to slowly lean forward and close his eyes, giving you a chance to pull away or stop him if it's too much. But instead you take a breath and close your eyes, staying still, your heart thumping in your chest as Seonghwa tilts his head slightly and finally pushes his lips against yours, pillowy soft and warm. You sigh softly, releasing the breath you've been holding in as his hand reaches for the side of your face, his thumb rubbing across your cheek repetitively. He starts to move his lips slightly, and you follow carefully, caught in his spell. Your hand even begins to creep up his chest slowly, getting caught up in the moment. You feel him smile slightly against your lips, then groan a little as he slows down before completely stopping, pulling away slightly. He stays close though, your noses still touching. You look up at him, eyes wide as you question:

"Did I do something wrong or…?"

"No! No, definitely not. That was amazing," Seonghwa says quickly, rubbing your arm again soothingly, clearly alarmed that you got the wrong idea. "I just...I just don't wanna distract you from your work. But I'm really glad you're feeling more comfortable around me. I know you still get nervous sometimes and I just want to be a source of comfort for you. I hate seeing you stressed."

You can't help but smile shyly at his words. Just being around Seonghwa instantly made you feel calmer. Taking a moment to gather your courage, you nod your head in reassurance to yourself before quickly leaning in and pecking his lips again. You grab his hand, running over it with your thumb. "Thank you. Really. I appreciate you so much."

Now it's his turn to look shocked. Seonghwa quickly gets out of it though, shaking his head a little playfully as he says, "of course. I'll see you in a little bit, ok?"

"Yeah, I'll see you."

#ateez fluff #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa x reader

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