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bartxnhood · 7 months ago

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cowboy casanova | t.o

tyler owens x fem!reader

based on this request: “Omg, how about Tyler Owens comforting reader on their first storm chase, maybe she’s really nervous or scared and he’s like don’t worry I ain’t gonna let anything happen to you… something like that???”

warnings: depictions of a tornado, reader has a panic attack. severe damage to homes and buildings.

w/c: 1.7k

a/n: thank you for the request! i added a touch of a backstory to help the plot go forward. i hope that’s okay!! i’m also currently in the theater about to watch it again (i saw it last night lol) enjoy <3

requests open

not proofread

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you see a man standing in a wide-open field, as the sky above you darkened to a menacing shade of gray. the once-gentle breeze turns into a fierce, howling wind, and you feel a sense of unease settle in the pit of your stomach.

you were assigned to follow him and his crew around while they chased these monstrous tornadoes then went in and dissolved the threat. you worked for a huge journaling company from the north, but you grew up in arkansas and became familiar with these devastating weather patterns.

now, you were in oklahoma where you’d be joining this storm chaser during a week-long chase.

“you ready to chase some storms?” his back was still towards you, and his southern drawl was familiar.

as the man in the maroon shirt and white cowboy hat, spun on his heels to face you, you were taken aback.

tyler owens.

“y/n?”

his blood ran cold, not expecting to see you after all of these years. you laughed in disbelief, “this is crazy..” you shook your head and crossed your arms, shifting your weight to one leg.

“you’re the journalist?”

you and tyler go way back. the two of you were in school together, majoring in meteorology.he started chasing these storms, becoming famous on campus.

but, it all came to a head one day when you got trapped and lost your best friend. that’s when you dropped meteorology and took up journalism. you documented the destruction, the path, how they moved, etc.

and now, you were writing about who was called the tornado wrangler. you should’ve done your research but you didn’t want the assignment.

but, he had become so popular with his crew. they’d go inside the twisters and release a mixture to help dissolve the storm. and it worked.

“you’re the wrangler?” you ask, and tyler laughs. that signature laugh that always made you want to punch him in his pretty little face.

tyler turns around and rests his hands on his hips. “what do you see?”

the wind picks up even further, swirling around you in a dizzying dance, pulling at your clothes and hair. you sigh, taking a few steps closer till you are standing next to him.

“there” you point to the east, the air was thick with an unsettling hum as a dark mass loomed on the horizon. the skies darkened further, and a chilling gust of wind whipped up debris and sent trees bending at unnatural angles.

"another one" he murmured, eyes locked on the clouds as his adrenaline spiked and his lips pulled into a smile that he couldn't help but wear every time a storm was brewing.

glancing over at you he tried to hide the excitement in his chest that he felt when one appeared, but tyler knew hiding your feelings from another storm chaser was like trying to hide a tornado in an open field.

"how much do you wanna bet it'll touch down two miles east of our position" he teased, eyes scanning the clouds for clues.

“mm” you shake your head, even though you hadn’t done it in years you still had it. “three.” you continue, then point to the wind and how it carries against the wheat field.

“look at the way the wind is carrying. it’ll go east and hit north. perfect conditions,” you add crossing your arms

“i think you have yourself a ef5.”

uou had it. the intuition to tell where a storm was going to go by only looking at the clouds, the way the winds were blowing, and the speed at which the storm moved.

tyler had a similar gift, every storm chaser had it, but he had never met someone who could predict the size of a storm, which was a rarity he had never seen before.

“ah EF5, huh? i’ll hold you to that. If you’re wrong, you’re buying me a beer.”

tyler owens would be the death of you.

“i’m not buying you anything, owens.”

you load up into his truck, snapping pictures of forming a storm. he was flooring the red truck in a wheat field right towards the storm so he could get ahead of it.

“ya miss it?” he yells, over the thunder. occasionally turning his head to look at you. you say nothing, continuing to snap pictures.

“sometimes.” you blurt, not looking back at him. “i just don’t miss the destruction” you continue, rolling up the window and reviewing the photos.

“you were good,” he says, one hand on the steering wheel and eyes still taking glances at you. “mm” you just hum in response, not wanting to talk about your storm chasing days.

suddenly, a funnel begins to descend from the clouds, growing larger and more ominous by the second. the air around you crackles with anticipation, and you realize that you are witnessing the terrifying formation of a tornado. an EF5.

this was the second time you had ever seen an EF5 form in front of you, this was frightening.

you held onto your camera tightly as tyler drove right towards the black abyss. “shit..” you mumble quietly.

as the rain beat down on the windshield, the engine's roar could hardly be heard above the gathering storm.

tyler's truck sped through the wide-open fields, creating a trail of dirt and dust in their wake. with his eyes locked on the approaching storm, he clinched his teeth and gripped the steering wheel firmly like a man about to die.

he had chased tornadoes before, but never an EF5. the adrenaline in his veins was making his heart race and his senses heighten as he pushed the truck to drive faster, the roar of the wind and thunder in their ears.

“what a beauty” he muttered, admiring the sheer force and size of the storm in front of them.

as your heart pounded furiously in your chest, you felt a sudden tightening of the breath in your lungs.

your mind raced with panicked thoughts, each one more terrifying than the last. you fought to stay calm, but the fear was overwhelming, like a living entity trying to consume you whole.

sweat beaded on your forehead, and your hands trembled as you held the camera. the world around them seemed to blur and spin out of control, like the tornado in front of them.

"tyler, we should go back," you yelled. tyler smiled, eyes fixed on the whirling green giant in front of him.

he yells, "not a chance, l/n. look at it!" as he maneuvers through the difficult terrain. “we can’t give up now!”

“stop!” you proceeded to yell, flashes of that night you lost your best friend. the way the sky looked, how it sounded, the rain on your skin, how cold you were. it was all flashing in front of you, experiencing the whole thing again.

tears brim your eyes, your body shaking like a leaf. “please! just stop!” you yell over the growl of the thunder clapping.

tyler’s heart sank to his stomach as he heard the raw emotion in your voice. he had teased you and challenged uou, but now it was clear that this was not just another storm for you.

it was a personal struggle that was tearing you apart and he had triggered it with his arrogance.

without a word, he stomped on the brakes and brought the truck to a screeching halt, his own heart racing against his ribs.

"y/n, look at me," he said, voice suddenly hoarse and quiet.

you’re gasping for air, pulling at the collar of your crewneck. the cab of the truck felt like it was closing in on you, you unbuckled the seat belt and tried to unlock the door. “i can’t do this” your bottom lip begins to quiver. “i have to..i gotta get out of here.”

you can’t even bring yourself to look at him. your mind is fogged with the traumatic experience of the last time you were caught in the eye of a storm like this.

tyler’s heart dropped as he saw you struggling, your gasping breaths and trembling body. he reached over to her, gently grabbing your wrist, preventing you from opening the door of the truck.

“hey, hey, whoa. look at me, look at me, please.” he pleaded, his voice firm but surprisingly gentle.

he reached out and took your chin, gently turning your head to face him. his eyes searched yours for a moment before narrowing in concern.

“y/n, listen to me. you need to breathe, sweetheart.”

your breathless, unable to think straight until your eyes meet his sea green orbs. you take in a deep breath and mirror tyler’s breathing.

inhale, exhale.

you repeated this until you eventually calmed down.

your hands continue to tremble as you speak, “tyler, i cannot do this. i just can’t.” hour southern drawl escaping. “it’s too much”

tyler watched as your rapid breathing slowly began to match his own, your hand gripping his tightly. his heart ached as he saw the fear and the anguish in your eyes, and knew that this was not just a simple fear of storms.

it was a trauma, something deeply personal, that had left a permanent mark on your soul.

he gently raised his other hand to your face, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb, trying to soothe you. “i know, i know” he whispered, his own tone gentle and soft.

“ain’t nothin gonna happen to you, kay? i won’t let it.” he assures your worries, wiping away the stray tear that escaped your eyes then tucked some hair behind your ear.

“i’ve got you.” he continues. you watch as his attention goes from you to the tornado in front of you. “if you want me to take you back i need to know, now” he says, looking back at you.

you sniffle, following his gaze to the twister.

if he could stop something like this it would be a huge achievement to the community. no more damage, no more homelessness. it would all be fixed.

“no..” you begin, and find your eyes back on him. “i’ll be fine.”

tyler nods, putting the truck into drive. one hand on the steering wheel and the other reaching for yours, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “you’ll be fine, city girl.”

you choke out a laugh, and shake your head.

“then, let’s chase this beaut!” he yips and slams his foot on the gas and takes off towards the monster of a tower.

#bartxnhood writes #bartxnhood asks #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens #tyler owens x y/n #tyler owens twisters #kate carter #twisters #twisters fanfic #twisters fanfiction #tyler owens fanfic #tyler owens fluff #tyler owens angst #tyler owens smut #storm wrangler

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gghostwriter · 15 days ago

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How Three Became One

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 1 || Part 3 Summary: In the aftermath of your failed make-up anniversary dinner, the third person in the relationship reaches out to you Trope: Angst w.c: 1.6k a/n: There is JJ slander in this (doing it for the plot and to hurt you all, like how I hurt myself in writing this.) I’m mostly writing follow ups now of my one shots and this is part of a part three series, i swear once i get all these follow ups done I’m going to hibernate for a bit to focus on my crime series. Not proofread. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

The somber air inside the coffee shop threatens to stifle your already critical heart. Its’ clear window clouded from the cold. Dull shades of gray creeping from every corner of the room, draining life as it went, no matter the strain of each lighted lamp on the tables.

Your fingers pulled the sleeves lower, wanting to cover any sliver of skin, trying to fight off the chill, as if it doesn’t come from within. Why did you agree to this, you wondered for the nth time, what good would confronting your nemesis, the root of the problem—Spencer’s Achilles heel, bring?

Comfort?

Not at all.

The truth?

Maybe.

Closure?

Closure from what exactly?

The failed relationship still stuck in limbo, dreadfully waiting for its free fall or flight from the precipice it’s balancing on?

Spencer had given you space, an act you weren’t sure to be grateful for. Yes, it spoke about his gentleman sensibilities and respect to not hound you to talk but on the other hand, his presence in reminding you how much he cared was sorely missed. Couldn’t he have at least left you one voicemail, voice pleading and coated with sadness, to repeat over and over again? Or a singular flower tucked to your doorstep, wilting slowly each day for your eyes to lay on?

You wanted nothing but you wanted something.

It was a conundrum.

Late into the night, when the phone rang and when your steps hastened against the wooden floor, you almost wished it was him. Eyes unfocused, the name unregistered, you surely wished it was him, instead of Her.

Her voice, blended with a slight static, was hesitant and soft as if she had encountered a wounded animal in need of her saving, tore through the paper-thin shield you’ve built around your bleeding, bruised heart.

You wanted to lash out, to be quiet, and to agree to anything she asked for—anything to end the call immediately, but when she suggested to meet in this quaint hidden coffee shop, describing it’s freshly brewed coffee and tasteful pastries, a sob rose and lodged itself in your throat.

It was your spot.

A secret place in your neighborhood you discovered and happily shared with Spencer.

This once vibrant store, the backdrop of so many rose-tinted memories, turned ordinary—tainted with the truth that it was no longer just yours and his. It was also Hers.

“Hi,” JJ softly greeted, occupying the seat in front of you. “Thank you for seeing me.”

Clearing your throat, the shred of what little courage you mustered leaving your body. “Yeah, uh, hi.”

Her blue eyes documented the lemon ginger tea in front of you, cooled and untouched. “I haven’t seen you in a while, how are you?”

“Fine, been doing good,” the darkness under your dull eyes painted a different picture, something that registered as her feminine shoulders drooped.

Lips pressed tightly together, she shifted in her leather worn bench, allowing the silence to further the divide between you both—the two female protagonists featured in Spencer Reid’s story.

“You don’t have to lie—”

“Right. A profiler, as if I could ever forget.”

“—Spence also isn’t doing well—”

You flinched, the sound of his name uttered out loud feeling like a thousand pounds dropping on your chest.

“—and just know that I’m here for the both of you, to clear up any misunderstandings. Let me help, ask me anything.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s why we’re here after all.”

Your eyes examined how her golden hair fell perfectly around her, creating a halo of perfection you have never felt once before. You were always the kid who worked hard to seem put together—a stack of paper stick achievements built to hide how ordinary you turned out to be. A woman made of dismantled almosts.

“Can you tell me—” clearing your throat “—about you and him. Anything, as team members, friends, your first date—just anything I need to know. He’d always quickly summarize the context of you as his best friend, defender, confidant. Never letting anything beyond that.”

She nodded with a slight smile on her lips. “He’s always been a little brother. I, like everyone else in the team, wanted to protect and guide him. Joining the BAU at such a young age and enduring hardships that come with it—the kidnapping, the Dilaudid, his parent’s involvement in a cold case, losing Maeve, and prison—is too much for anybody to bear all on their own. We’ve always been close, being exposed to the darkness that comes with our job will do that for you but I’ve never seen him like that with you. He was so light and happy, almost as if the younger version of Spence came back to life—” she laughed before the brightness wiped away from her face. “—and now, like this with you, he looks afraid, like he might lose it all, lose you. I’ve seen him sad when we weren’t able to save Maeve but this time, this sadness that comes from the thought of you leaving, seems too deep to come out from. I’m afraid that he won’t make it and for that, I feel responsible.”

The deep red nail polish on your fingers were leaving chipped specks all over the white table, like blood on a pure white snow. The cage around your devotion and love threatens to topple down, releasing you from indecision. It seemed unfair to persecute a man of Spencer’s caliber for his past and for your fear of never being enough.

A shadow of a smile peeked from behind your curtain of self-preservation. Maybe all could be salvaged with a deep talk between one another and a schedule to a therapist—solo and couple. You loved him strongly enough to tackle those doubts and reverently wish to see the relationship through, forever if time allowed it to.

But the small voice in the back of your head echoed above the chimes of change and courage, it’s deep tone trying to pull you back to stagnancy and reality. What did she mean by that? Why would she feel that way?

“Responsible?” you whispered, heart beating loudly against your chest. Its’ sound parroting on your ear. “Why would you feel responsible?”

“During the last case, being held at gun point—” the bewilderment in your eyes causing her to gasp. “—he never told you, did he?”

The anticipation, anger, and dread enveloped you, as if you were about to combust at the drop off a hat. If you looked down to any piece of you, you’d think you were doused with gasoline and a small flicker of fire started at the tips of your shoes. “Tell me what? JJ, tell me what?”

She took a deep breath, trying to delay the inevitable truth. “During that time, the unsub wanted us to admit, confess a secret no one knew and wanted nobody to know and I—”

You raised your hands, trembling from realization, to unsuccessfully block the truth from spilling into the world. You didn’t want to hear it—needed to never hear it. “Stop. Please, stop.”

Droplets of sadness mixed with the specs of chipped nail polish on the table, your tears creating tracks on your ashen cheeks. This was enough to break you—the shaky mirage of your strong self was nowhere to be found as sobs freely escaped from the depths of your ribs.

You came here, filled with indecision which turned into hope before rapidly decaying to death.

The final nail in the coffin.

“You’re married, JJ. You have kids, how could—” you pressed your fingers tightly to your lips, nails digging into the soft flesh. “—I guess I always knew, huh. I may not be a profiler but my woman intuition has never steered me wrong. Not even once.”

She hung her head, the locks of halo you once considered pure and perfect shrouded around her like a thick veil of shame.

“So what now? What about Will and I? Does he even know?”

Her watery blue eyes, pleading with yours. “No, nothing changes. I love Will and my kids and it’s just a secret I want to take to my grave.”

A vicious hollow laugh bled out of you. “Are you even inlove with him? Your husband?”

The lack of response was very telling. Her love for her chosen partner was shallow compared to the other. You briefly wondered if there was no kids in the picture, would she have even stayed?

The thought was dashed repeatedly in your head. It wasn’t your problem to speculate. Mind made up, you refuse to be part of this convoluted love story any longer.

“That’s cruel of you. I wouldn’t even wish that on my worst enemy,” you slowly gathered your things and any strength that could take you home. The only place you’d allow yourself to unravel. “I think, I should go.”

“But—”

You mustered a small smile. “Thank you for being honest, JJ. I wish you the best with all of this. Tell Spencer, I’m sorry and please take care of him for me, will you?”

Quickly turning away from the mess that shredded your love life into bits no longer salvageable, the dull shades of gray once crawling from every corner of the store followed your trail.

Another dismantled almost to add to your ever growing collection.

The colorful world you and Spencer built with the thought of forever turned to ash.

Burnt from the truth.

The remains charred to multitudes of gray that signified the end.

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot

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renonv · 7 months ago

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Spamano Week Day 2 & 3 : Mochis & 2p

Mannnn late yet again BUT ALSO on time 🙏😏

I think both of these concepts are so fun 😭 like the existence of mochis within the universe is crazy but it’s so fucking funny… and oughhh the two pees.. I used to not really care for them BUT I figured them out for myself and now they are a fun thing to rotate in my head nsnddkk

I’ll go more into detail of how I see their 2p versions under the cuttt but WOO I’m on tha rolll

@spamano-week

HI WELCOME TO THE RAMBLINGS OF A CRAZY OLD MAN

Flavio: Literally Flavio to me is what Romano would have been like if he wasn’t fighting the internalized homophobia/ machismo demons 🙏 he’s flamboyant he’s (still) loud, he stands his ground and he is a fucking divaaa. He’s cunning, takes great pride and care and time into his appearance, he expresses his love freely and loudly, and he’s not afraid to pick a fight. He lacks general anxiety and self preservation. He’s also a tad selfish, and just generally two faced. To me, while Romano puts out the harsh exterior, underneath it all he is a vulnerable and sensitive person. Flavio puts on the very approachable exterior, and will be nice, but inside he’s brewing some out of pocket shit. However, he loves and cares deeply and genuinely for a very special few.

If Romano was to meet him, he would call him a slur. But also be jealous of the way Flavio carries himself. If Flavio were to meet Romano, be would make him his next make over project, he is his new gay god mother. Flavio would be jealous of how many people genuinely care about Romano, even if the guy chooses to act like an asshole.

Santiago: He is a quiet and an intimidating guy, not because he’s plotting shit in his head, but because he just does not know how to carry himself around people. While Antonio is an approachable, sociable man who’s always working on putting out positivity and try to do good by everyone because that’s just how he is (and how he copes), Santiago withdraws himself from everyone because 1) Bro genuinely doesn’t get social cues or socialization and 2) thinks of it as better this way for the general public. He’s a little edgy, but in a “scared to hurt others” way rather than “society doesn’t get me” way. Since he yaps significantly less than Antonio, he’s a good listener and is also a bit less dense on certain things. He’s a bit more prone to picking up on the underlying emotions or when people are being sarcastic / say one thing but mean another.

If Santiago and Antonio ever met, it would be… interesting. Santiago would be put off by Antonio’s high energy, but at the same time wish he could express himself as easily as the other, and be as comfortable with physical touch. Antonio would absolutely loose his mind over the gray streak of hair, bro looks very punk rock. He would think of the other as awkward, but also be very impressed at his observational skills.

#spamano week 2024 #aph romano #aph spain #spamano #2p spamano #2p!romano #2p!south italy #2p!spain #2p!hetalia #aph south italy #hws romano #hws south italy #hws spain #i hope any of what I yapped about makes any fucking sense

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warabidakihime · 6 months ago

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★ characters: levi ackerman x reader | modern au

★ plot summary: levi helps you get through an episode

★ content warnings : implied su!cidal ideations, talks about mental illness (panic attacks, anxiety, and depression).

★ a/n: just a lil something i wrote out of sheer indulgence cause i am going through it ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა . so i guess you could say this is true to life and the only difference is, i don't have a levi by myself doing all these for me LOL. BUT YEAH, i hope you like this one and i hope it could help other people who might be going through the same thing.

sending everybody hugs!

Title: Until When Do I Need to Run?

"What if I'm too tired by the time I reach the 'pinnacle' of my life?"

Your voice sounded soft and vulnerable as you let those words slip through your lips.

Normally, you wouldn't let these kinds of thoughts escape the confines of your mind, but today, your heart was desperately screaming for any semblance of salvation.

Anything that could shed light on your ever-gloomy world.

From the dining table where your boyfriend sat, enjoying his freshly brewed jasmine tea after dinner, Levi raised an eyebrow in your direction. "What?"

You were at the sink, washing the dishes, as it was your turn this week. You chuckled humorlessly as you rinsed a plate rather mindlessly. "It's nothing. I was just thinking out loud."

"And thinking ridiculous things too," Levi said, his voice louder than usual. It didn't occur to you that he had moved until you were spun around, facing him. He was already behind you while you were racking your brains for a response.

"What's wrong with you? Did something happen?" His frown was deep, his gray eyes piercing. Despite being shorter, his presence loomed over you.

Reaching for the kitchen towel to dry your hands, you stayed mute for a few minutes in an attempt to gather your thoughts.

"Work has just been... rough lately, and the stress is getting to me. But today was especially hard," you started. You were speaking slowly, trying to articulate your words as best as you could.

It was something your therapist had taught you years ago. Because of the things you went through growing up and the trauma you'd accumulated, you'd unfortunately lost your ability to speak coherently at times, almost to the point of being considered a person with a disability.

Having such a handicap was frustrating and humiliating, to say the least. It angered you when you couldn't get the right words out or when your mind went blank mid-sentence, rendering you temporarily mute.

Thankfully, you had Levi. He'd been your boyfriend for eight years, and since you got together, life wasn't as draining as it once was. You couldn't be more grateful to him. The two of you had met while you were on a coffee run at work. He was behind you in line, and when your card was unfortunately declined and you didn't have cash on you, you almost had an anxiety attack.

In his own way of displaying kindness, Levi scoffed from behind you and handed the cashier his card to pay for both your orders.

"If you don't want to go through something like that again, make sure you have cash on you, dumbass."

And the rest was history.

You went quiet again, and while Levi waited patiently, he took your hand, gave it a loving squeeze, and led you to the living room so that you could sit and talk comfortably.

Once you were settled, you took a deep breath, which sounded shaky as it escaped your lips. Your emotions were clearly piling up inside, and it was just a matter of when they would burst.

"Steady your breathing first, Y/N," Levi said as he rubbed your back gently, doing his best to comfort you while you grounded yourself. "Take your time."

Smiling sheepishly at him, you did as told, and then finally, you continued to confide in him.

"Nothing major happened, but work has been really hectic recently due to the amount of things we need to do, and it doesn't help that my team is severely understaffed. So, I guess the fatigue and stress have been piling up, and it's getting to me."

Levi noticed the tension in your shoulders and the way your hands were trembling slightly. He reached out and gently massaged your temples, his touch soothing.

"Any word on that incompetent manager of yours? They're looking for a replacement, right?" Levi asked, his voice tinged with annoyance. He knew the lore of what was happening at your workplace, and to say that he was pissed was an understatement.

Not only were you neglected by your immediate supervisor, but you also had to catch up and do his workload while still getting paid less than him. The whole thing was a mess, and to be completely honest, Levi was on edge, worried for your well-being. It sucked that his worst fears were manifesting.

"They're doing the best they can, so I'm just waiting patiently on that."

Levi let out a 'tsk' and rolled his eyes, clearly more annoyed for you. The gesture caused you to giggle a little.

"And to sum it all up, the whole thing kind of shoved me into another episode, and I started to overthink things again." You said with a pout, then continued, "I started to think of negative things again, like the fact I literally have to work like a horse just so I can survive for another two weeks. From that, I started to get dizzy because it dawned on me that it would literally take me years to succeed. And then I thought, what if by the time I reach the most successful point of my life, I'm too tired to celebrate or to even continue living because that's what I've been striving to achieve for so long, and that's where I've been pouring all my energy—"

"Okay, stop. Stop right there," Levi interrupted, his voice firm. He let out a frustrated sigh and pulled you closer, taking your hands in his. "You're spiraling, Y/N. You're making a mountain out of a molehill. We're going to tackle this together, one step at a time. Right now, you need to breathe and relax."

His gray eyes held a stern yet caring expression. "Focus on the now, Y/N. We deal with problems as they come. I'm here. I'll be your anchor, but you have to let go of the rope a little."

You looked into his eyes, feeling the weight of his words. Levi had always been your rock—the one who grounded you when your mind spiraled. You knew he was right, and his presence always brought you back to reality.

As you sat there, hand in hand, you felt a sense of calm wash over you.

"Thank you, Levi," you whispered, leaning in to rest your head on his shoulder.

Levi noticed the shift in your demeanor. He squeezed your hand reassuringly, his other hand coming up to stroke your hair gently.

"You know, Y/N," he started softly, his voice a stark contrast to his earlier firmness. "You're incredibly strong. You've faced challenges I couldn't imagine, and you’ve come out stronger for it. But even the strongest people need to recharge."

He paused, giving you a moment to absorb his words. "It's okay to not be okay sometimes. It's okay to feel overwhelmed. What matters is how you deal with it. And right now, you're dealing with it by talking to me instead of keeping all that to yourself, and you've also been really consistent with it, which is a huge step. Good job."

Levi squeezed your hand gently again. "We'll figure this out together. Maybe we can start by setting some boundaries at work. Or maybe we can find some ways to de-stress outside of work. We can try new hobbies, or just spend more quality time together."

You felt a lump form in your throat as you listened to Levi's words. Just him being there for you brought so much warmth; it's as if he's hugging you from within.

At that moment, you realized how lucky you were to have him in your life.

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. His words, spoken with such gentle sincerity, had a profound effect on you. It felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You realized how much you had been bottling up and how much you had been neglecting your own well-being.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Thank you for always being here for me. I don't know what I would do without you."

Levi smiled softly, reaching up to brush away a stray tear that had escaped your eye. "You don't have to figure it out alone, Y/N. And never, ever hesitate to reach out to me. I am the last person that would push you away."

A comfortable silence settled between you as you both took a moment to appreciate the connection. The soft glow of the living room lamp casts a warm ambiance, creating an intimate atmosphere.

"I know I've been a bit of a downer lately," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "I hate that I let this get to me. I hate that I'm becoming this person who's always stressed and overwhelmed."

Levi squeezed your hand tighter.

"You're not this person, Y/N. You're going through a tough time, and that's okay."

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. It was comforting to know that you had someone who understood and supported you unconditionally.

The conversation continued, flowing naturally as you shared your fears and worries with Levi. He listened patiently, offering words of encouragement and practical advice. You felt a sense of peace as you opened up to him, something you hadn't done in a long time.

Hours seemed to fly by as you talked. The initial darkness outside had given way to the soft hues of dawn. Levi's grip on your hand never loosened, his presence a constant source of comfort.

Eventually, the weight of exhaustion began to creep in. You yawned, your eyes heavy with sleep. Levi noticed and smiled gently.

"It's late, Y/N," he said softly. "Let's head to bed."

You nodded, your head leaning against his shoulder. "Mkay. Thank you, Levi."

Levi kissed the top of your head. "You're welcome. We'll talk more about this tomorrow if you want, alright?"

You nodded, a sheepish smile on your face. "Okay."

He stood up and stretched, a yawn escaping his lips. "I'll get us some water."

You watched as Levi moved toward the kitchen, feeling exponentially better, all thanks to him. When he returned with two glasses of water, he handed you one and sat back down beside you.

"Drink up," he said, his voice soft but firm.

You took a sip, feeling the cool liquid soothe your throat. After finishing the water, you placed the glass on the coffee table and turned to Levi.

"Thank you, Levi, for everything," you said, your voice full of sincerity.

He gave you a small smile, his eyes reflecting his affection for you. "Always, Y/N."

Setting his glass aside, Levi suddenly cupped your face with his hands, his touch gentle yet commanding. He leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was more passionate and eager than usual. His kiss conveyed all the love, support, and reassurance he wanted to give you, grounding you in the moment.

You responded in kind, your arms wrapping around his neck as you melted into the kiss. The intensity of the moment made your worries fade away, replaced by the warmth and love radiating from Levi. He pulled you closer, deepening the kiss, his hands moving to your waist, holding you securely.

When you finally pulled away for air, you rested your forehead against his, your breaths mingling. Levi's eyes were soft but intense, filled with a promise of unwavering support.

"You're not alone, Y/N," he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. "I love you, and I'll always be here for you."

Tears of gratitude filled your eyes as you looked at him. "I love you too, Levi."

With that, he took your hand and led you to the bedroom. You both settled into bed, the weight of the day's worries feeling lighter. As you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, you felt a sense of peace and security that only Levi could provide.

"Goodnight, Y/N," Levi murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

"Goodnight, Levi," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

The room fell into a serene silence, only your steady breathing filling the space. Levi’s arms around you felt like a shield against the world’s troubles, and the steady beat of his heart was a comforting rhythm that lulled you into relaxation.

As sleep began to pull you under, you felt a tender kiss pressed to your forehead while Levi’s fingers lightly traced soothing patterns on your back—his way of reminding you that he was always there, ready to lift the burdens you carried.

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sagittarianpocky · 1 year ago

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Heaven | Zamasu X Fem!Human!Reader.

First time posting my work on here. Um, hello. On a Zamasu binge right now.

Porn with very slight plot. And some fluff, but it's Zamasu, so, you know. I just like writing things that are self indulgent, and he deserves more love. Also not spell checked. We die like men, and spell checking with ADHD is practically impossible anyway. And it’s written in first person pov because I suck at second person. Otherwise. Enjoy, I guess.

Rating: NSFW. 18+. Obviously.

Word count: 3,095

Summary: Zamasu gets... a little jealous that another mortal dared to flirt with his special human.

“I’ve never seen you so nervous.”

To have a Supreme Kai staring you down - it’s a harrowing experience. Especially because it was Zamasu. Gray, hungry, narrowed eyes were staring directly through my own, going all the way down into the depths of my soul. He was standing mere inches from me. We’d been having a discussion, which was absolutely normal, but I brought up the fact that some random dude on the street had asked for my phone number in passing. That’s when he first got that look in his eye, his voice got lower, and I could see that something was brewing within the darkest corners of his mind.

“Zamasu.” My voice came out quiet and weak, almost like a stutter. “What’s gotten into you?”

His fingertip just barely touched my chin, tilting my head up toward his own. I had to look at him, no matter how flushed my face was getting. He wasn’t much taller than me, but it was just enough for him to be intimidating. The height difference made me feel small and helpless, but in the depths of my own mind, I didn’t hate the feeling. And I think he knew that. “The idea that any of these barbaric, uncivilized mortals could believe, even for one moment, that they have the right to someone as divine as you is absolutely revolting.”

I backed up a little. Just one step, but he followed suit. I responded, “That’s… why I told him no.”

“As you should.” A smirk was pulling at the corner of his lips. “Do the same with everyone who dares to ask for even a sliver of your affection.”

I blinked a few times, and I felt his thumb brush my jaw. “I… don’t understand. What is this about? You know how I feel about people, so-“

“What I am saying… is that there is but one being who is worthy of you.”

I swallowed roughly. “… Who?”

“Me.”

The response came out so commanding, as if it were the absolute truth. My breath caught in my throat. His stoic, never-changing expression told me that he wasn’t lying. “You… want me? But I’m…”

“A mortal? Ah, no. You’re a…special case.” His hand rested on my cheek, and his thumb brushed my lower lip. He usually had a confident aura, but now, it was penetrating through my soul. Paralyzing me. “I’m surprised it took you so long to notice. Mortals do tend to be quite oblivious, so I won’t take offense.”

“You… want me.” That came out barely audible, more repeating it so I could believe it myself. It made him smirk. My eyes couldn’t leave his, but I noticed him take a quick glance at me. My body, more specifically. “In, um… what ways?”

He moved centimeters closer as he confessed, “in all ways, darling. If that’s alright with you.”

“Wouldn’t that… break rules?”

“Supreme Kai law? Perhaps.” He brushed a piece of hair from my face. “But you of all people should know that I care little for those old-fashioned doctrines.”

“I see.” A brief silence ensued until I whispered back, “then, it’s alright with me.”

“Are you sure?” That came out almost teasing. “Once you start, there’s no going back. I’m sure you’re aware.”

“…I’m sure.”

He smirked in such a feral way that it exposed one of his fangs. “Good. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear, my dear.”

That’s when his lips met mine. It startled me, but at the same time, I melted. I melted at such a quick rate that I couldn’t believe it. He pushed me against the wall, hands sliding down my sides. When I started to reciprocate, it was like all inhibitions were thrown to the wayside. His body was right against mine, and his tongue snaked right into my mouth. He tasted… like cedar. I wasn’t sure how to explain. A sap, more bitter than honey, but still retaining an intoxicating sweetness. On top of that, he was kissing me like he hadn’t had a taste of physical contact like this in hundreds, if not thousands of years. Then he pulled back and laughed to himself, murmuring, “exquisite. Even better than I imagined.”

I was trying to catch my breath. “You’ve… been thinking about this?”

“Of course I have. You invaded my thoughts. Thoughts of grandeur being tainted with thoughts of desire. I tried so hard to resist, but I can no longer do so.” His hand was sneaking underneath my shirt, but I was too enamored with his eyes to look down. “I’ve wanted nothing more than to see you for everything you are. To devour you. To make you mine.”

With that, he began to kiss me again. I knew how privileged I was. To be in such close contact with a Supreme Kai - a being like Zamasu - no other being in the universe would be given the opportunity. His hand was slowly pulling my shirt up, and then he separated from me to remove it entirely. My face grew red because I knew he was checking me out, but again, it made me feel small. Finally, he said, “come here.”

He pulled me toward my bed and he sat down on the edge. He spun my back toward him and pulled me onto his lap, guiding me to straddle one of his legs. With my back against his chest, I could feel his breath against my neck. His hands were sliding up my bare thighs, then to my hips, and then up to my chest. With ease, he undid the clasps, and my bra slid to the ground. Why he didn’t bother with my skirt was beyond me, especially when he turned my face to his. He whispered, “You are simply divine, darling.”

He didn’t give me a chance to speak. His lips met mine and his hands groped my chest. I couldn’t help it - seeking friction, my hips rolled against his thigh. What pained me more was the fact that he was still fully clothed. I couldn’t get as much as I desired. When he started teasing my nipples, I could tell that he was playing with me, much to his own amusement. When he started pinching them, I moaned into his mouth. It was shameless. He pulled back from my lips, and diverted his attention to my neck. Kissing and nipping at my skin, my body was reacting exactly how he wanted. He was chuckling to himself. Embarrassingly, it was almost too much, even though he’d done so little. I groaned, “Zamasu…”

I could feel his body tense as he said, “oh, that was marvelous. I’ve never heard anyone say my name like that before.”

He bit the side of my neck hard, triggering another groan. He would bite every sensitive spot he could find. One of his hands moved to my hip, guiding them in the same pattern they’d been grinding in, just with more force. I whimpered, mentally noting that I should’ve guessed he’d be some sort of sadist that liked to play with his food.

I heard him smirk as he said, “a sadist? I suppose so. Playing with you is far too much fun.”

I blushed hard. I would often forget that Kais could read minds, and I had no doubt that he’d been reading mine the entire time. I felt his hand slide underneath my skirt, moving dangerously close to the area that most of my body heat was gathering in. My hips bucked toward his hand, which made him laugh. “So reactive. Would you like me to do something?”

Even the tone of his voice was enough to make my body hotter. “I… need you to touch me.”

“You’ll need to elaborate, sweetheart. Tell me what you want.”

As he said that, his fingers inched closer. One of his fingertips was just barely grazing my clit through my panties. “I need… your fingers.”

“Where, darling?”

My hips bucked against his hand which made me blurt out, “in me. Please.”

“That’s a good girl. I suppose I can oblige.” He pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss against my neck, and he took no time when picking me up and placing me down on the bed. The skirt was an easy thing to unzip and pull off, and my panties went with it, falling to the floor. His eyes were dark as he removed his overcoat, hanging it over the chair at my desk. He climbed over me with a predatory gaze as he mumbled, “oh, Gods, you are absolutely heavenly.”

That’s when I felt his hand touch my core. He explored everything with his fingertip, giving me a light kiss as he did so. He pulled back, leaving his lips brushing against mine as he looked down. “To think you could get this worked up so quickly… that’s sinful, darling. I’ve barely started.”

I tried to respond, but he pressed two fingers into me with absolute ease. He drove them into me as far as they could go, and he held them there, prompting me to try to move my hips. “Ngh, Zamasu-“

“Needy, are you?” He pulled his fingers back, and then pushed them into me once more, making me bark out a sound that resembled a groan. The smirk on his face told me that he was loving every second of this. I squirmed. He was holding his hand still. Then, he whispered, “I’m sure you can be louder than that. I suppose I’ll find out, won’t I?”

Only then did he begin to move his fingers. At a slow, but steady pace, always forceful when pushing them back in. He liked the way my body would jerk, and he liked the way my face would contort. I could hear it in his breath, which was getting deeper and more husky by the minute. Then, he curled his fingers, which made me groan his name again. It made him chuckle. “Yes, beautiful. Do it again.”

His fingers quickened in pace. My back arched up, pressing me against him. He kissed me. My fingers were gripping the sheets, and I felt him add a third finger. The stretch sent heat shooting through my body. It made my toes curl. It made my breathing go rapid, to the point where he pulled back just to watch me squirm beneath him. Finally, I mewled, “Zamasu… I… I’m gonna…”

And just like that, his fingers stopped. The high I was desperately seeking faded away, leaving me speechless. And he was smirking darkly as he slowly withdrew his fingers from me. When I was about to complain, he shushed me. “No, darling. You need to be patient. That was simply just to prepare you. Do you understand?”

I nodded shakily, every urge to complain fading away. I quietly responded, “Yes. I understand.”

“Good girl.” I felt him press a gentle kiss to my forehead. He whispered, “Now, give me a moment. Relax.”

I felt him move off the bed. My head was spinning. Not just from orgasm denial, but from his sudden shifts in demeanor. He could go from cruel to sweet in the blink of an eye. I was trying to catch my breath, staring at the ceiling through lidded eyes as I listened to fabric moving around. Then, I felt him crawl back over me, once again rubbing his thumb on my cheek. “Feeling alright, darling?”

I nodded, leaning into his touch. “Yes.”

“Good.” He brushed hair out of my face. He looked so… nice. Genuine, like he usually did. “Now, I need you to move up just a bit. Can you do that?”

I nodded, slowly pulling myself toward the top of the bed. He urged me along until my head was resting atop a pillow, and then he moved atop me. That was the first time I felt his bare skin against mine. It was strangely cold, and it sent a shiver down my spine. He kissed me passionately, hips pressing into my own. I could feel his length rubbing along my core, which made my lips quiver. He pulled back from the kiss and said, “I’m going to ravage you now, darling. Are you ready?”

I nodded quickly, hesitantly folding my arms behind his neck. He allowed me to touch him without question or protest. Then, his forehead pressed against mine as he slowly slid himself into me. We both let out a groan at the same time, and the farther he pressed himself in, the more my mouth fell agape. My hands grabbed at his skin, and he once again hushed me. “I know, sweetheart. It’s a bit of a stretch for you, isn’t it? But I have no doubt you can take it.”

“Oh, God…” I whimpered that with tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. When he was fully sheathed within me, I was holding onto him for dear life as my body adjusted. I had no idea what the anatomy of a Kai was like, but something like this was completely unexpected. I could see him sweating, using every fibre of his being to hold himself back until I was ready. Finally, I let out a deep exhale and said, “you… can move. Go ahead.”

He wasted no time. He pulled himself almost all the way back out, and then pressed himself back in. He did it again and again at a slow pace. On his face was a look of pure ecstasy as he acquainted his body to mine, and then his eyes stared down at me. He leaned back just enough to push one of my legs up against my torso, and at that moment, I knew I was quite literally fucked. As he stared down at me, he said, “This… is a sight I could very much get used to.”

I didn’t get much time to look at his physique before he started driving himself into me down to the hilt. The whines and groans that were pouring out of my mouth were loud and lewd, my hands searching for anything and everything to grab ahold of. The pace he was moving at was forcing me upwards with every thrust, and he looked like he was in a state of complete bliss. It didn’t take long for me to be pushed over the edge, which made him groan in a way that could’ve made me do it again if I had the physical ability. I saw him smirk as he said, “Gods, that was amazing. I wonder how many times I can make you do that?”

I saw an idea flash past his eyes, and he was quick to remove himself from me before turning me onto my stomach. He grabbed my hips, pulling them upwards with a feral look in his eyes. I was looking back at him as he plunged himself into me once again, taking up the same brutal pace as before. He leaned over me, mouth just inches from my ear as he growled, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything as divine as this before. You must be from heaven. I’m wholeheartedly convinced.”

“Y-You…” I could barely speak. The sheer amount of girth was hitting every single spot it could find. It was sending sparks of pleasure through every nerve in my body. I could barely mewl out, “so… good.”

“You poor thing. You can barely speak, can you?” He bit my neck, which triggered an immediate moan. “Heh. You like being mercilessly dominated by a god, don’t you?”

His pace didn’t falter, not even as he spoke. My body was contorted, chest against the bed and hips in the air. Between breaths, I responded, “I-I… I do.”

Then, he grabbed both of my wrists and pinned them behind my back with one hand. With the other, he had a bruising grip on my hip as he asked, “And what God is giving you the privilege to feel such pleasure?”

His pace was unforgiving. I came undone again as soon as he said that, which made him grunt. My brain was having trouble formulating words, but I cared little. No one I had ever done anything with made me feel anything close to what I was feeling. I whined, “You.”

He snapped his hips into me particularly hard as he ordered, “Louder. Tell me who you belong to!”

I yelled out, “You, Zamasu!”

“Good girl.” His pace stopped for a matter of seconds as he flipped me onto my back again, plunging himself into me as he delivered a violent kiss to my lips. One of his hands remained on my hip, and the other tangled itself in my hair. He was overwhelming me, and the only thing I could think about or feel was him. My body was in a constant state of pleasure. I couldn’t have even known if I’d come or not. What got my attention was when his pace became much less rapid and disorganized, and he couldn’t continue kissing me. His head fell to rest against the crook of my neck, and my nails raked down his back.

“Oh, Gods,” he groaned that right into my ear, which caused me to groan in response. With a few more hard thrusts, his pace slowed. He came to a complete stop deep within me. He must’ve hit a climax himself. Both of us were covered in sweat, and he caught his breath much faster than I could catch my own. He said in a sultry voice, “I’m surprised. You took that very well.”

I opened my eyes just a sliver to look at him. My voice was so quiet that I doubted anyone could’ve heard it. “Thank… you.”

“I think I’m going to stay here for a while.” I could see a satisfied smile on his face. I felt his body relax, and he held my head against the crook of his neck. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

“No… I don’t.” Laying there with him, as he stroked my hair, I could feel myself falling asleep. Being in such close proximity with him - being in his arms - it made me feel untouchable. To be the one exception. The one treasure. “I don’t mind…”

“Hush. You’re rambling, dear.”

“I... sorry…”

“It’s alright.” I felt him press another kiss to my forehead. Yes, safe. That’s the way I felt. To sleep in the arms of a God… it was nothing I ever expected to happen. “Sleep, darling. No harm will come to you so long as I’m with you. That, I promise.”

#zamasu #dbz #dbs #dbh #dragon ball z #x reader #zamasu x reader #x female reader #dbz x reader #fem reader #mostly pwp #some fluff #zamasu is a suave son of a bitch #i love him #emz writes

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mermaidsirennikita · 27 days ago

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What do you consider to be the hallmarks of a good fantasy romance? And great examples from that genre?

I think it's a combination of:

—Good worldbuilding that nonetheless isn't so dense that it takes away from character development. To me, a great romance is all about character development, and, contrary to everyone forgetting this in order to dump on "romantasy", fantasy historically has NOT been considered one of the strongest genres for that. Not that there aren't fantasy novels with great character development; but many have historically prioritized the World over the Character, and relied on character types and journeys that fantasy readers recognize in order to get by. Chose One archetypes, for example.

One of the reasons why ASOIAF was considered so subversive and interesting when it came out was that GRRM took archetypes and twisted them. That's how much fantasy relied on them.

—I.... am not hot on the slang and dialogue that feels supermodern. It can work! I don't need all fantasy to come from a space super grounded in the historical. But sometimes, I think fantasy romance writers are basically plugging contemporary dialogue into a fantasy setting and saying "There, be happy".

—Plot! If I'm reading a fantasy romance, I want a plot that goes beyond Cozy. This isn't necessary for all readers, and I get it, but if I wanted something lighter on plot I simply wouldn't read a fantasy romance.

I'd recommend trying:

The Winter King by C.L. Wilson. This is a great arranged marriage fantasy romance, with characters who have their flaws and their issues with each other. The magic isn't crazy complicated, but I really liked the world (Wilson was an early adopter of the Scandi influence on fantasy, and the following book doesn't seem reliant on the typical Western European vibes either).

The Witch Walker series by Charissa Weaks. Just a lot of fun. I love that the heroine reads as competent and smart, versus Aelin-influenced. The hero is dangerous and complex, but also needs her help a good few times. The classic "friend guy" you see so often in fantasy romance (the heroine's buddy and/or ex who's Normal) is dealt with in a way that feels way more mature and interesting than your standard issue love triangle. There's a fun b-plot villain romance brewing. Lots of interesting side characters. I have a great time with it.

Kerri Maniscalco's Kingdom of the Wicked series and beyond. This one sort of flits about worlds; there's a Sicilian vibe, a Regency romance vibe. Some of the books are darker than the others. The heroes are very morally gray, and the heroines... are also. It feels very "alive" to me. There is a lot more plotting and a lot less "kick, pow".

While I found The Hurricane Wars a little slow to begin, Monsoon Rising really kicked it up a notch and I had a great time with it. It began as Reylo fanfic, which isn't a problem for meeee, but Thea Guanzon's rework brought in a lot of her Southeast Asian roots, which you don't see a lot of in fantasy. The hero is a virgin who can't drive (and so is the heroine, but she's a lot more.... apt.... than he is lol).

In terms of lighter, more historically rooted fantasy (so, historical romance but make it fantasy basically) India Holton is a great writer. Her books are kinda fluffy but not without Plot, and never fail to make me laugh while also selling the romance so well. Her prose is also fabulous.

It's quick (with another book to come, hopefully) but A Fire in the Sky by Sophie Jordan was one of the more enjoyable dragon-y fantasy romances for me. The hero and heroine have a great connection, it's another one that deals with the friend guy well, and I really liked the heroine's journey.

Another more historical-y one is A Sweet Sting of Salt by Rose Sutherland, which is an f/f selkie romance. Super lyrical and sweet, with the injection of some darker themes through an examination of the myth. So well-written.

A Fated Inked in Blood is so fun. A vikings-y fantasy romance with a bit of a chosen one narrative, but more on the berserker side of things. The heroine is married (though it's in name only) to the hero's dad, which is SO fun. It does something I've really come to enjoy in fantasy romances, and it's not like... not predictable, once you know what to look for, but I REALLY liked how this one did it. If you like vikings-y fantasy romances, Demi Winters's Road of Bones is also good, but a little heavier on the world and the fantasy of it all.

Ruby Dixon's Aspects and Anchors series are very Ruby Dixon, but also like... good fantasy romances? They're kinda campy, super OTT, the voice very chatty... But the modernity is excused for me because the heroines come from our world. The parallel universe thing is very creative, and makes for a lot of fun culture clash stuff.

A Hear of Blood and Ashes by Milla Vane reminds me of C.L. Wilson in a lot of ways—big on the world, lots of action and violence. It's higher heat than the Wilson books, though (those aren't low heat either) and there's a lot of... really daring stuff in this one. Like. REAL wild.

#romance novel blogging #romance novels #book recs

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usergreenpixel · 8 months ago

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An art piece I commissioned from… @michel-feuilly , 😂. Always happy to commission things from friends when I can tho!

( @josefavomjaaga , @that-enragee , @maggiec70 , @amypihcs , @cadmusfly )

Anyway, this is an artistic representation ™️ of the meeting between the hero and the villain of the Peninsular War story.

“By the Maestro’s Side” has an aristocratic protagonist, which is definitely a departure from the norm for me, but it was a fun way to get variety.

Meet Carlos Joaquín du Plessis y Gonzaga del Prado, a 13-year old deaf boy who is the oldest son of a French emigré duke and a Spanish duchess from Zaragoza. (Yes, THAT Zaragoza.)

Joaquín lives in Madrid, and his family wanted to flee the capital when they got wind of the brewing uprising, but Joaquín accidentally got lost in the chaos and would have died if not for a benefactor who saved him and took him in.

The benefactor? Francisco Goya himself. Now, to avoid suspicion while he is trying to locate his family, Joaquín has to lay low and assume the identity of Goya’s distant relative/apprentice.

At first, the cover story works fine, but when Joaquin catches wind of a French cavalry officer’s plans to steal a precious Murillo painting, he feels like he has to get involved, as said officer will stop at nothing to get the painting, and is not above killing Goya to get away with smuggling it out of Madrid.

The officer, Augustin Robespierre Klein (he has a Republican name, which was a trend during Frev) is the man Joaquín is looking at, and he seems to be plotting already… That flask in his hand sure does look suspicious…

P. S. Joaquín’s white forelock is deliberate. It’s a sign of his genetic condition, known today as Waardenburg Syndrome. It’s a genetic or sometimes a spontaneous mutation.

There are four types, but usually the telltale signs are heterochromia (different color of the eyes) or just vibrant blue eyes (like in Joaquín), hearing loss which can vary from person to person (Joaquín is COMPLETELY deaf), a white lock of hair and/or premature hair graying.

What Joaquín has is Type 2, which usually has less physical signs, but also has more profound hearing loss associated with the people who have this particular type.

P. P. S. I am NOT a fan of royalists and never have been. So here is a spoiler but the villain is NOT a stereotypical evil Jacobin.

#by the maestro’s side #my ocs #not my art #francisco goya #peninsular war #napoleonic wars #napoleonic era

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specter319 · 1 year ago

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𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄? (Ace Combat x CoD 141)

A/N: As a little Christmas present, I decided to work on a little something something, seeing a random anon state in @mockerycrow's Ask about fighter jets and Task Force 141 got my interest real quick, having been someone who got introduced to these two fandoms 1-2 years ago I absolutely adore the storyline in regards to Trigger and Count, but also the storyline as a whole, neatly wrapping up the reason why three strikes is called three strikes, if only a certain other game could have the same sort of stable plot- Complaints about the plot aside for those who stumble upon it have fun with this little short story that's been brewing in my head! Please enjoy the Homoeroticism of Ghost and Soap Trigger Warnings: Mention of Blood Word Count: 2.5k Words Characters: John 'Soap' MacTavish x Simon 'Ghost' Riley, mentions of Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick and Johnathan Price.

From the moment John MacTavish’s Scottish blue eyes gazed upwards into the beautiful atmosphere above him, he knew he was utterly and completely fucked. It all started with one moment in time, watching the infamous ‘Ghost’ launch one of their newly brought F-35s testing it out for another squadron, making sure all systems were in check. Watching it from the fences as the utter decimation of their ears thanks to the lack of protection were good faith to the man taking it, for what seemed to be a joy ride. And as Kyle and John stood there, seeing it hovering just mere meters above the runway, their joy was all but uncontainable in knowing just who was behind the sticks.

Conversations were the only thing that took over the engines' mighty roar as Kyle and John yelled at the inanimate object in celebration.

“Ooh yeah! Ooh yeah!” Kyle yelled out.

“Ooh, go ‘un, go ‘un” John egged right back.

And then, just as it pulled up, sure it was now at best pulling upwards of 5 gees, the men on the ground cheered.

“Go on you fuckin’ beauty!” Just as it was making its way further into the clouds, graciously curving its own form into the shape of them.

They were ecstatic, joyful, even, at least one was, to see a man so tall, almost built like a damn statue from ancient history managing to tame a beast so wild, and wicked. And yet, knowing that it was almost second nature in that man's blood to fly it, because that bastard was the only one allowed, thanks to the great charm of the bastards in the west, to have an F-22 Raptor. The only one in the UK, belonged to a man who had no name, never showed his face to the people he didn’t know, including the two men who stood there on the grassy knoll outside of the airbase cheering him on.

What a weird shitpot of luck that was, almost as if the gods of fate above had been watching the two men above, seeing them be so supportive of a man who never had the cheers of his fellow squad members, but instead, feared him. Tried to rebel against him, just to get a far enough away distance to stay away from a man and his, as some people called it ‘Raptor’s Ghost’.

Those that had seen it, had been lucky enough to tell the tale, at least, on the side he came back to, fellow squadron and captain, but those who had been on the receiving side of those guns as they lifted from their molded seam, only saw a wisp of a dark gray aircraft, before a fiery explosion filled their cabin.

Yes, there was one thing to be known about this ‘Ghosts’ jet — he’d specified that he must have it in a darker gray. Just a couple of shades darker than what the original metal was painted as. And the thing was? Somehow, amongst his captains ranking, the government and even the fuckers down in Lockheed — they’d said yes to the request. Even if a few bureaucrats in the Pentagon were waving the red flag from the start.

So he guessed that’s what the plan was then, to go and catch a sneak in the middle of the night of what it looked like, though Kyle tried with all of his might to persuade him otherwise, John was dead set on seeing the beauty that stood in the dead of the night in Ghost’s hangar, wielded far away from the rest of the base, but close enough to know that the rest of the team always, haunted by a Ghost, he guessed that’s where the name came from then. Given that this was usually seen beside the B-2, a call sign of Ghost would’ve been fitting for someone in a something like this. And it seemed like fate was tempting him all and amongst this, because, as John approached the hangar, as big as it was, there was a crack left open, not closed, like all the other times he’d passed it in his own jet. Only to then realize this was the reason why they had called him Ghost to begin with, no one thought he was around, until it was too late.

Everyone knew this Ghost, was a guy, they’d heard his voice, never heard him laugh, was only ever a man of a few simple commands and went off when requested. What caught John MacTavish off guard however, was not only the hangar open, but the place had reeked of oil and fuel, only to be diverged its acoustics of the tin metal in the sound of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, a far cry from the throat roar of the hotdogged engines, John could already tell what Ghost had been doing to the poor thing. Either someone had been here recently or there was still someone here, but that never mattered as his Scottish blue eyes once more, got him fucked over, classical music be damned.

The metallic gray was no longer present, much like he had seen on the various photos that had beautifully given the thing a personality of beauty, and yet deadly. But instead, it was given a more, mature grayed look, as if it was a rehashed version of the F-35, the very same one he had been seen in this afternoon in a reskinned jet. Sudden realizations hit the man when thinking in Ghost’s logic, not too shabby for a Ghost when John had realized that much to his enemies disliking, when they suddenly realized that the jet was no longer a most recent US fighter, it was too late to break off anyway.

And much akin to John’s own footsteps, he’d realized that he was pulled in by the absolute sheer squared beauty of the thing and had moved right into the Ghost’s trap.

“What are you doin’ in my hangar?” Ghost lowly spoke, standing to the side, having seen him since he strolled in here.

“Jesus wept!” John spoke as he suddenly turned around, the closed distance between them was something almost scary at just how close and personal this man had gotten, and all amongst that, he seemingly had the goal to wear a bloody balaclava, all the while wearing a stripped down version of the gear they would have to haul around on their bodies. Was he really that comfortable in wearing the same shit each day? At least the only thing invading his senses was oil and fuel.

“I said what are ya doing here?” Ghost questioned before his eyes glanced over at the hangar “Squadron leaders gonna know about this,” his voice loomed.

“Sorry,” That’s all the weak bastard had as he tried to pick himself up faster than he could pull back on his own stick. “A’m interested in that piece of art ye’v got there, heard you were the one flying the Lightning around this mornin’”

“So you were the two hanging around the fence”

John stiffened at the sheer mention of that, he’d seen them? He didn’t think he had given the height already gained as he passed the pair of them from the runway.

“Wanted to watch her give her a proper launch, sir” John hesitated as Ghost only snorted and shook his head at the mention of the last word.

“Flight Lieutenant to you” This Ghost guy seemingly didn’t want to have him out of his hangar after all, but there was no doubt that heavy brown eyes were on him, painted darker then the plane before him as his eyes registered on MacTavish’s uniform still barely on given the zip that was seemingly fought with, the sheen of sweat that was just above the ridgeline of his eyebrows gave away just how much he’d been working during the rest of his day, when he seemingly wasn’t cheering this man on, then again. MacTavish did seem like a familiar last name, what could hurt but to take a guess.

“Apologies,” John moved ever so closer to the jet, almost as if he were to go ahead and, to the thought running in the back of Ghost’s mind, steal it. Poor bastard, probably wouldn’t be able to handle the ride as well as he could. “Does that mean I get to call you LT then?”

The cocky chatter over the radio, often with another teammate, only gave Ghost all the more confidence to take that stab in the dark to try and pinpoint just who he was.

“You can, so long as you tell me if you’re the one flying that bloody F-16 around.”

John’s eyes suddenly went wide, and of course, that cocky Brit saw it, and with his own pair too. His soul had actively left his body in the acknowledgement that someone had noticed his maneuverability, everyone else had F/A-18’s. But MacTavish was the one that stood his ground when he said he wanted a former fighter pilots F-16, ready to be given back to the Americans, decommissioned, probably in a scrap heap, and yet, here he was, breathing new life into it and treating it like it had just come off the factory rollers. Though, his only fault that he seemingly had with it, was that of the lack of gun ammunition, paling in comparison to something like the beast that stood before him.

“Uh, and why would tha’ be?”

Ghost paused, raising a brow in confusion, maybe he was going to have to talk to John’s squad leader, had he really not seen beyond his two feet at just who he had under his wing, the man could maneuver the thing as well as he could like the jet he stood before and maybe, if he ever took the chance (which, in high unlikely doubt he would) he could probably pilot Ghost’s, if not, with just a bigger amount of hesitation.

“Just wanted to give a recommendation to the squadron leader as to who to take under our wing, old talents retiring at the end of the year, figured I’d give whoevers flying that F-16 and the one with the yellow strip along the body of the ‘18 a fighting chance at joining the 141” He brushed it off, like it was a chance to come clean. Ghost knew that MacTavish was the one flying the thing, often put in a good word about it to Price. And Price often agreed, that and ‘Gaz’ who was often his wingmanaccording to Price’s notes were often hotshots, but never in an egotistical, ‘wanting to show who’s boss’ way, it was always one of teamwork, and he quite enjoyed seeing them chant as one of their other teammates took down a target before they did.

“The 141?” MacTavish asked

“Yeah, just need to find out who the pair are in the two jets first” Ghost was toying with him as he finally made a move over to his own, inspecting the various scratches that were seemingly evident in the light, but gave the aircraft a seemingly weathered look, one that, Ghost admired.

“There a reason why they call you the Ghost?” Quick this one was to change the subject, avoiding it, but copying him all the more in his movements as John did the same, placing a gentle hand along the aircraft as his calloused fingers felt a deep scar along the face of the jet, maybe that’s why he rarely had repairs done to the thing other than ones that were required. Maybe that’s why he wears the mask, he’s damaged, just like the bird before him – but he still flies, still finds meaning in the daylight and blue hues of skies.

“There a reason why you’re dancing around the question?” Their hands moved along the surface of the steel at almost the same time, unknown, but as if they were tracing one another's patterns as the question was left in the air for a bit too long before they finally moved to the nose of the aircraft, having no choice but to look at one another as they did so.

“Could say the same,” He watched as Ghost moved towards him, facing him, how he towered over the man with that stature of power, and yet, the only real dominating power he seemingly had left was his rank, and the jet. Because all the smug bastard did was place his hands behind his back and look down at the Scotsman, as if inspecting him as he did the jet, to see if like him, he too had scars beneath that mohawk and blue eyes that seemingly contrasted ever so beautifully along the dark gray. “What happens if one of us already knows the answers?”

“Then I guess one of us will have to await the answers of the future, but if they already know the answers, they shouldn’t have to wait too long” They both knew one another were staring, helplessly, but stopping it neither as eyes behind that mask squinted ever so gently. So he did have his scars, one on the chin, must have had a bad accident for it to get that bad, and the blood from it too.

“Then I guess I’ll ‘ave ta’ see me way out of this museum then huh? Wouldn’t want ta make a scene now aye?” John smiled, physically having to retch himself from the spot he stood in, not wanting to move away from the view that was before him.

“Don’t quite appreciate customers making a scene and disturbing the nature of this art” So he wasn’t the only one to quickly move along with what he was suggesting as he followed him, only ever a few steps behind, maybe that’s why he got that name, loud as anything in a jet, then he never exists once the engines shut off.

Ghost eventually stopped following him as John made his way out near the doors of the hangar, lingering around just a bit more before he stopped in his tracks, just maybe, if he really did have the answers, he could see how his future LT would respond. “Don’t think I could handle two pieces of art in a museum, never been able ta handle more than one” He swore up and down he saw the man’s head snap into place about that comment, a slight squint at the body language that John was trying to portray as he moved through the hangar doors. “Have a good night, LT”

“Officer Mactavish.”

Payback time.

“Aye sir?” And they’d fallen into line already, a wingman, of sorts, to a Ghost.

“Call me Simon”

Now MacTavish was standing there, being a complete idiot, baffled by the fact that he, of all people, managed to get into the inner circle of a man named Simon, a Ghost. A snort was then heard through the airy atmosphere as he suddenly turned around and walked back towards the stairs of his office, looking back over his shoulder, leaving him in a scrambled state that was the brain of John MacTavish.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” He paused, “For a F-16 Pilot.”

So that’s his name.

#spectersblog #cod #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mw22 #specterwrites #soapghost #call of duty #ace combat #ghost x soap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain price #john price #kyle gaz garrick

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stellar-constellations · 1 year ago

Text

An Alliance (Part 3)

Fem! Spy! (Y/N) x Yuri Briar

Parts: One, two, current part, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten (to be continued when Spy x Family has more Yuri content!)

(Y/N) is given her own backstory that is important for the story!

The setting for this story is based off West and East Germany's (because Spy x Family is heavily based off Germany in the 1940-1950) laws (or at least replicated to the best of my abilities since it's unknown what time period Spy x Family is exactly in, we'll go with 1950 for the sake of this story).

Historically-accurate women misogyny and mistreatment! Only small comments and historically-accurate laws (replicated to the best of my ability).

The story, plot, and settings might not match up to the Spy x Family manga as it's not completed and the manga is still being crafted.

This series contains spoilers for the manga and anime!

The man’s alarm went off, causing him to jump up immediately. He quickly turned his head to look at me, seeing my glare.

“Turn it off…” I mumbled, turning my back away from him.

“I’m surprised you decided to stay.” He spoke, genuine shock in his voice.

“I have my reasons to stay. Don’t think it’s because of you.” I huffed, then covered my head with the covers.

“Hey! Don’t go back to sleep! We have work!” he complained, grabbing the covers and lifting them off my head and to my chest.

“There’s no ‘we’ in work.” I whined, grabbing the covers as he held onto them.

I pulled the covers back to me, only to have them pulled back from him.

“There’s no ‘i’ in work either!” he retorted.

“There is in State Security Service. Go to your job.” I huffed.

“Our job!” he spoke, completely grabbing the covers off of me.

The cold hit and I shivered, glaring at him.

“When I walk out of that bathroom you better be dressed and ready to go.” He spoke, glaring back at me.

“I won’t promise.” I commented lazily.

He rolled his eyes, getting up from the bed and walking to the bathroom.

What a jerk, making me wake up at… I looked at the time and my eyes widened. 5 A.M?!

I sighed, getting up from the bed and lazily pulling the covers up to fix it. I carefully placed Flower on the bed in the middle to make sure she was safe before grabbing my suitcase and grabbing clothes, quickly changing.

I put on a black long-sleeved shirt and black tights, wearing dark gray shorts over them and sliding into my black shoes. I brushed my hair (if you have it) until it was tangle-free, then put on my glasses (if you have them) and did quick sprays of perfume.

I walked out of the bedroom and to the kitchen, looking around the cabinets. I noticed in one that there was coffee in it.

Coffee? Well, he does seem like the type of guy to make coffee in the morning. He seems like a successful person, and successful people drink coffee. I thought to myself, then grabbed the coffee grounds.

I should poison it, then escape. I know I signed that contract, but what are they gonna do? As far as I'm aware, they don't have a tracker on me.

I placed the coffee grounds in the coffee filter, making sure the machine had enough water as it started to brew in the pitcher.

“You’re a fast changer.” He spoke, causing me to jump.

He noticed, smiling, but he decided not to tease me about what.

“What? Were you planning on seeing me change?” I teased. “How bold of you, Sir.”

He flushed, an angry expression on his face.

“No!” he shouted.

"You don't need to be shy. I'm flattered that you love me so much!" I smirked, swaying side to side as he screamed.

"I DON'T LOVE YOU!" he screamed.

"Now, now. You have to calm down. We still have neighbors." I pointed out.

His face went red as smoke crawled out of his ears and nose, yet he hushed up as the coffee machine went off, signaling the coffee was done.

"You made coffee?" he questioned, looking at me.

"Yeah. You seem like someone who'd like coffee, I mean, you had it in your cabinets." I spoke.

"Oh... T-thanks..." he muttered.

"Don't thank me, I was planning on poisoning it, but then I realized that your boss took my poison." I admitted, nonchalantly grabbing the pitcher and pouring the coffee into two mugs.

"Oh, really? I'd drink it so I'd never have to see your face again." He smiled, taking the mug from my hands.

"How do you make your coffee?" I questioned.

"Six spoonfuls of sugar and 3/4 cup of milk. Why?" he questioned.

"D-dude!" I exclaimed. "Six spoonful?!"

"What? How much do you add?" he asked.

"...Four spoonfuls." I sighed.

"Yeah! That's 2/3 as much as mine! And how much milk?" he questioned.

"Like... an eye-full amount. I don't measure it..." I admitted.

"Let me see how you make it." He huffed, crossing his arms as he stepped to my side.

My face went red from embarrassment as I showed him how I make mine.

"That's literally just like my coffee! Just a tad less sugar and a tad more milk!" he shouted.

"Well make yours than we'll do a taste test!" I declared.

I watched as he made his and sighed.

His looks exactly like mine when it's finished!

"Okay, we both take a sip of ours, then each other's." He spoke.

I nodded as we both dragged the mugs to our lips and took a sip.

"Now each other's." I spoke.

We took sips and I huffed.

"It taste just about the same. Yours is just a tad sweeter." I frowned.

"And yours is just a tad less stronger." He admitted.

I sighed, but my disappointment quickly turned into excitement.

"Hey, sweetie~" I teased.

"How many times have I told you not to call me those names, brat?" he huffed, red in the face. "What do you want?"

"We just shared a kiss~" My face lit up from happiness at his reaction.

"NO! NO WE DIDN'T!" he screamed.

"There's no reason to be so shy, my love~ After all, we're...t-together." I stuttered, my teasing turning to embarrassment and disgust at just saying it.

"I WOULD NEVER KISS SOMEONE LIKE YOU!" he shouted.

I giggled, taking my coffee from his hands and switching it with his.

"You're so cute, honey~" I teased more as his face blew up.

"You're a brat, brat!" he huffed, covering his face with his arm.

I smiled as he swiftly turned around and walked to the door, quickly grabbing his jacket. He took an audible deep breath, then turned around.

"You gonna hurry up or are you gonna walk?" he grumbled.

"I'm coming." I answered, grabbing one of his coats and running over to him.

He rolled his eyes, turning his head away to hide his smile poorly.

"Are you growing soft on me?" I teased.

"Of course not! It's just going to be cold tonight, that's the only reason I'm allowing you to wear that jacket!" he shouted, trying to justify himself.

"Sure," I smirked, "Honey~"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm seriously going to punch you."

"Let's get going before we're late." I spoke, latching onto his arm.

"Hey! What are you doing?" he exclaimed.

"I'm acting like your..." I softly choked, building up the courage to say it as I muttered "y-your...w-wife..." I whispered, almost inaudible to hear.

Luckily, he heard me so I didn't have to repeat it.

"You said that when we're in public and at work, we'll act close, remember that?"

"And behind closed doors, we're nothing. Remember that?" he spat harshly.

I pouted, but nodded as me smiled brightly.

"Good, now let's go." He spoke.

He opened the door, having us both step out before he turned around and locked the door.

Yeah. We're nothing. I thought to myself, ignoring the powerful sting in my heart. Is this what rejection feels like? Damn, I feel sorry for everyone I've ever rejected.

I turned my head to the side so the man couldn't see my face as I silently sighed to regain my posture. What am I thinking? I don't even know this man's name, so why would I grow attached with this...jerk!

I would've started brewing up a better insult until someone spoke up behind us.

"Oh, Mr. Briar!"

The man turned around so fast, making me do a small ballet spin at his quick movements.

"Oh! Miss Nanami! What a surprise!" he spoke, his face bright.

He looked at me and spoke with his eyes: "say anything wrong and you're dead."

"I didn't know you had a girlfriend!" the elder woman gushed. "You two look just like me and my husband when we were younger."

"Ahaha... yeah. This is actually my wife, Mrs. Briar." He smiled, hiding his left arm as I did the same since our rings would be on our un-dominant hand's ring finger (we both appear to be right-handed).

"Oh! She's your wife? I'm sorry, I haven't seen you around here!" she smiled.

"Oh, don't worry about it! I don't really go out that much unless it's for groceries or work." I fake-smiled, my eye twitching slightly.

If this woman was a spy or extremely-observant, she'd notice that my twitch meant the smile was fake, but luckily, she's old and not wearing glasses.

"We'd love to stay and talk, but we have to go to work. Sorry, Miss Nanami." The man, Mr. Briar, apologized.

"Oh dear. I'm sorry for bothering you two. Have a good day." She smiled.

"You too, Miss." We both said in union.

When she turned around, we both immediately glared at each other.

"Mr. Briar, huh?" I smirked, finally learning something about his identity.

"Don't you dare start it." He hissed through his teeth.

"Mr. Briar. Mr. Briar." I tested the name on my tongue.

"What are you doing?" he deadpanned at me.

"I'm testing your name." I spoke. "Briar. Briar. Briar." I chanted, thinking. "It'd be nice if I knew your first name."

"It would be nice." He smiled. "Too bad you're not getting it."

"Hmph!" I huffed. "Be that way! I didn't care much anyways!" I lied, before resuming to my chanting. "Mr. Briar. Mr. Briar." I hummed, thinking. "Mrs. Briar!" I smiled, looking at Mr. Briar as he glared at me, red in the face.

"Shut it!" he demanded.

I giggled, following him as we walked to the elevator.

"Mrs. Briar. Mrs. Briar." I chanted. "(Y/N) Briar. I kinda dig it."

"Don't expect to keep the name for long..." he grumbled, pressing the first button.

I groaned, grabbing the elevator bar with one hand and tightening my grip on his.

"I should just click the buttons over and over again until the elevator malfunctions and we'll be stuck in it. It'll be payback for being a pain in my ass all the time." He smiled smugly.

"Oh? What are we going to do while we wait to be rescued?" I teased as his face lit up.

If he's seen enough movies, he must know what that means.

He huffed, covering his face with his free hand.

"Don't say stuff like that!" he exclaimed.

"I just asked what we're gonna do." I smiled, giving him smug smile back.

"Just shut up." He groaned.

I gasped, acting shocked as I pretended to know what crossed his mind. "Mr. Briar! I can't believe you would assume something so lewd!"

"I DIDN'T! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO DID! AND STOP USING MY LAST NAME!" he screamed.

"Whatever. Come on now." I spoke, walking out as the elevator doors opened, tugging him along with me.

We walked out and to his car. I waited for him to open his own door before trying to open mine, but the bastard locked it.

“Come on! I even waited for you to get in first!” I huffed, a not-so-pleasant expression on my face.

“It’s still just as funny as the first time.” He chuckled, unlocking the door.

I opened it and got into the seat, letting out a relaxed sigh at the drive we’re going to have to do. It’s not a far drive, but it’s not exactly around the corner either.

“I can’t believe you get up at five in the morning to go to your job. The sun isn't even up.” I groaned, looking out the window.

“Do you not get up to do your job?” he questions.

“I do, but I got up early on special occasions. Most of my spy missions required me either tailing someone or helping behind the scenes; I was never one who liked to jump into the gunfights and stuff. That’s not my speciality.” I sighed.

Reminds me too much of what I had to go through back in the army...

Briar hummed, thinking.

“Do you perhaps know of Twilight? The Westalis spy?” he questioned.

“Of course I do. Every spy is aware of him, even the newbies.” I answered.

“Do you know his face?!” he shouted, leaning over the car seat to mine, excited with a smile on his face.

“No!” I answered back quickly, moving my body away to give us some space in between as my face heated up. “He’s the top spy. I’ve never seen his face since he’s a master at disguise. I helped him once or twice for a mission, but that was to find some missing links and codes. Me and him don’t really like being around each other.”

“You sure you’re telling me everything?” he questioned.

“Yeah. Sorry, man, but not even Twilight allows other spies to see his face. He’s cautious about it since all the spies are getting captured and ratting each other out. So, he’s smart.” I admitted, distaste in my voice at his success.

Of course that bastard is away doing whatever while I’m here stuck with some dude who absolutely despises of me and trying to use me for information. He did what I didn't do and that's how I got caught... part of it at least.

“Damn it.” Briar sighed. “He’s our top suspect. The SSS has been trying to get for years.” He groaned.

“Eventually, he’ll make a slip up. All spies do, they’re human too, you know?” I pointed out.

“They may be human, but they have no hearts.” The man growled, his grip on the steering wheel tightening stark white.

I wanted to say something back, but I didn’t want to make him mad this early in the morning.

What a lapdog. I thought to myself. He shouldn’t be saying stuff like that without understanding how the enemy and their civilians live their own lives. . . We got out of the car, Briar locking it as I quickly ran to his side and grabbed his hand, holding it as he smiled for anybody nearby.

“If anybody asks about us, I’ll do the talking.” He spoke through his teeth.

He could be a ventriloquist. I thought to myself, noticing how his smile didn't shift at all when he spoke.

“Okay.” I mumbled back, showing I understood.

We walked hand-in-hand to the normal looking building. He opened the door for me as I waited by the side before grabbing his hand once more and walking into the office. We walked through a door, entering a room with many computers and people with headphones, listening to whatever.

Probably bugged rooms.

“Let’s go to the Director and get things settled.” Briar whispered into my ear.

I nodded, walking past the computers.

We made our way to a different hallway, turning and going down yet another one.

“Second-lieutenant.” Someone spoke.

What’s with people ambushing us? I thought.

We turned around and Briar smiled.

“Hello, lieutenant!” he spoke, letting go of my hand and saluted.

I panicked and quickly followed with the salute.

Lieutenant! He’s above Briar’s authority. There’s a chance he might not know above our little situation here—are those stitches on his face? And why does he look so damn dead?!

“Is there anything you needed, sir?” he questioned, stopping his salute which led me to stopping mine.

“Who is the girl?” he questioned.

“This is my wife, (Y/N) Briar.” He spoke. “She just recently joined the squad yet hasn’t received a uniform yet. I’m taking her to the Director to get last-minute plans all sorted out.”

“Hm. Very well then.” He spoke. “You’re dismissed.”

We walked away from the Lieutenant, making it to the Director’s door.

“Ugh. I can’t believe I called you that.” He gagged, sticking out his tongue.

“I don’t know, you said it pretty smoothly. It sounded to me like you were accepting it.” I smiled, poking his shoulder.

He glared and slapped my hand away, causing me to giggle while internally pouting at his hostility.

That hurt too. He’s strong, but it makes sense since he’s apart of the Secret Police.

We walked into the Director’s office as he was on the phone speaking to someone. We walked into the office, waiting patiently with our hands behind our backs as we waited. Occasionally Briar would look over at me, only for me to stick my tongue out at him playfully as he shoots me a not-so-playfully glare.

“Yes. Uh-huh. Alright. Understood. We’ll send some of our officers over. Alright. Have a good day, sir.” He hung up the phone and looked up.

“You may sit.” The Director spoke.

I looked over at Briar and spoke. “You can sit. I don’t feel like it.”

He silently walked over and sat down on the chair across from the Director. I strolled over and leaned up on Briar’s chair, placing my arms on his head as he growled.

“Stop it.” He spat.

“No.” I responded, gently playing with a piece of his hair sticking out from his hat.

The Director smiled. “What brings you two here? Already looking for a divorce?”

“That would be great.” Briar smiled, causing me to glare at him.

“I’m not that bad.” I spoke.

“She couldn’t even get out of bed this morning.” Briar pointed.

“Not my fault we went to bed so late.” I rolled my eyes.

The Director coughed. “Oh. Well I see the relationship is going swimmingly.”

“Ah! N-no! Not like that Director!” Briar gasped.

“I don’t mind the misconception.” I smiled, laughing at Briar’s reaction as he told me to “shut up.”

“No, you see, Sir. We were wondering about the arrangement. What is she exactly going to do?” Briar questioned.

“I thought you had that part settled out?” I questioned.

“I lied.” He smiled, looking up at me.

I looked at him, irritated as I flicked his forehead. He muttered a small “stop it, brat."

“She’s going to be accompanying you in all your missions. So whatever you want her to do, she’ll be forced to do it unless I otherwise say so.” The Director spoke.

"Hear that? You have to do whatever I say." Briar smiled evilly, crossing his arms.

"Oh nooo. Please be gentle." I spoke, causing Briar to scream loudly and the Director to burst into tears laughing.

After Briar eventually decided to shut up and the Director stopped laughing, the Director spoke up.

"Is that all you two need of me?" he questioned.

"Why did you choose me to be babysitting her?" Briar questioned.

"Babysitting? As if! I'm the one watching over him!" I spoke.

"I feed you and you live under my roof." Briar pointed out.

"I..." I paused. "I...uh..." I tried wracking my brain as Briar smiled at me smugly. "I made you coffee!" I declared, crossing my arms. "Psh. Can you believe this guy?" I spat out, pointing a finger at him.

"I know?" the Director sighed, playfully glaring at Briar as Briar looked at him with a look of betrayal. "But as for your question, second-lieutenant, I chose you simply because you're young and single." the Director smiled.

"You haven't been using that playboy face for anything? I'm shocked." I giggled as Briar looked awestruck.

"...T-that's it? No, like, motivation speech about me or something?" Briar responded, his face pale.

"Nope. You were just lonely." The Director spoke as I bursted out laughing.

Briar's face went even more pale as his mouth opened and closed like a fish.

"I like you, Mister-Director-Funny-Man!" I laughed, pointing at him as he gave me a thumbs-up.

"I can't believe my boss and my enemy are getting along..." Briar mumbled, putting his hands on his face and letting out a loud groan. "AND I'M NOT LONELY! I HAVE MY SISTER!" he screamed, then realized he screamed at his boss. "Er... Sorry, Director, sir!" he stood up and saluted, then sat back down in his chair.

"Ahaha! Sister-complex! Sister-complex!" I laughed, pointing at him.

He flicked me hard on the forehead, causing me to yelp and touch the spot as it effectively shut me up.

"Is that all?" The Director questioned.

"Briar told me I was gonna get a uniform or something; is that true?" I questioned.

"Ah! Yes! Your uniform." The Director spoke, opening a cabinet drawer and picking up a see-through plastic bag. "I knew you were going to stop by soon so I got it custom-made and tailored." The Director smiled, showing me the bag proudly before handing it over to Briar who gave it to me. "Go try it on! Second-lieutenant lead her to the changing room! Then let me see! I worked hard on the design." he cheered.

Briar sighed, nodding as he stood up.

"Come on, brat." He demanded.

I ignored the insult and followed behind him as we walked out of the hallway and went down hallway after hallway.

"Come to think of it. You're going to be the first woman in the force." Briar spoke up.

"I am? Do you have changing rooms or bathrooms?" I questioned.

"You're in luck. We have individual bathrooms." Briar smiled.

"Good. Like I'd let you see me naked." I smirked.

"Like I'd ever even want to see you naked!" he scoffed, his face turning red.

"Says the virgin." I smiled.

"I—! Why you!" he stuttered, his face going an even darker red as he tried to think. "Doesn't matter! You have four minutes to change before I cave the door open to catch you setting up bugs somewhere." Briar ordered.

"Ew. Who would do that in a bathroom?" I questioned, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door.

I made sure it was locked before quickly grabbing the plastic bag and opening it. I didn't know how long it'd take me to put on the uniform, but I was guessing that it would be slightly-difficult.

I took off my clothes and replaced it with black tights, a white button-up shirt, a dirty-green jacket to go over it, a dirty-green skirt, black boots, and a black tie.

Wasn't as hard as I'd thought it'd be. But a skirt, really?

I huffed, grabbing my old clothes and putting it in the bag.

"Oi! Honey!" I declared, slamming open the door.

"You're supposed to button the jacket and wear the tie correctly!" he complained, eyeing me.

"Why can't I wear pants?" I questioned.

"I'm not the one that made it." He deadpanned.

"Well, I know that! But I don't wanna wear a skirt!" I complained.

"Calm down, sheesh! You're going to get me in trouble!" Briar shushed.

"Your boss is gonna be in trouble when my foot is up his ass!" I replied.

"Let's just go to the Director and sort this out. He wanted to see it anyways" Briar sighed.

I huffed and sped-walked down the hallways, running to that Director's door with confidence and kicking it open.

"You have five seconds to call that tailor and demand pants!" I demanded.

"Let me explain this, see—"

"One."

"This is simply for the sake of SSS—"

"Two."

"Just hear me out!"

"Five, you've been heard." I huffed.

"Could you not run down the hallway like that, brat?" Briar spoke, appearing behind me and grabbing my waist to prevent me from attacking the Director.

"You said five seconds!" the Director exclaimed, wiping sweat off his brow.

"I'm impatient." I grumbled, crossing my arms as Briar lead me to the chair, sitting down and forcing me to stay between his legs as both his legs and arms wrapped around me, preventing me from jumping the Director.

"Nice save. Now as I was saying." The Director sighed. "You're the only girl on the force. This can help with advertisement since members of the SSS have been disappearing, most likely getting scrapped by Westalis spies too. This can also help getting easy information out of people being interrogated. It's statistically shown that people are more likely to be comfortable around women because of their motherly nature, and when people are comfortable, they let things slip. They'd be more honest and we would have less... accidents." The Director chuckled.

"Do I look like a mother to you?" I grumbled.

"We can change your attitude to be motherly and nurturing." He smiled. "But this could really help with the war. You do want it to end, don't you?" he questioned.

"Of course I do. I've seen some things. Do you see how people are in the streets? Everyone avoids the newspapers. Everyone runs when they see someone in an authority position or wearing an officer uniform. Kids run whenever they see someone with a briefcase. Everyone is living in fear, and that's no way to live." I stated firmly, then started to play with Briar's hair (much to his annoyance).

“It’s a small sacrifice for peace. Besides, I think it’ll suit you. He agrees, don’t you?” The Director spoke.

I turned my head to look at Briar, daring him to lie to me while having the audacity to make eye contact with me.

“It doesn’t suit you. In fact, you look stupid.” Briar responded immediately, causing the Director to sigh and me to hit his arm.

“Jerk!” I huffed, squirming to get out of his hold but to no avail.

"At least it's not pink. I was thinking of it, but I thought that'd ruin your camouflage." The Director admitted.

“We have no more questions.” Briar spoke.

“Good. In that case, you have your first SSS mission, (Y/N). Second-lieutenant, you’ll show her the ropes of how we do things here. And again, Mrs. Briar..." the Director smiled, specifically looking to see Briar's face.

Briar cringed, letting out a disgusted groan as I giggled.

"Your husband is in charge." Now I cringed with Briar as he let out an even louder groan of disgust at the word 'husband' before springing up once he heard that he was the one in charge.

"Here's your mission. You'll be attending Lieutenant down to city hall to capture Jim Hayward. He's a potential suspect of espionage." Me and Briar both looked at each other at the same time.

I mentally smiled as he looked at me, shocked in his eyes. "Now hurry on and go join Lieutenant. They're getting ready to leave soon."

"Yes, sir." Briar saluted.

"Yeah, what he said." I smiled, causing Briar to give me a tired-glare.

"Have fun, you two. Consider this my wedding gift." He smiled.

Both me and Briar groaned, leaving the room together.

"Let's hurry on. The Lieutenant is an impatient man when he's on the clock." Briar spoke, speed-walking down the hallway as I quickly followed in pursuit. "I can't believe you knew it." He sighed, walking into an office a little similar to the Director's, but smaller.

He grabbed a yellow envelope on the desk and shoved it in his pocket. I curiously eyed it but decided not to pry into it.

"You actually doubted me? I'm offended!" I shcoffed.

"You're a spy—I can't just anything that comes out of your mouth." He spat.

"You're so mean to me. I thought we were getting along since we shared a bed." I sighed.

"D-don't say it like that!" he shouted as I laughed. "Let's hurry up and get this over with." Briar grumbled.

Parts: One, two, current part, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten (to be continued when Spy x Family has more Yuri content!)

Want more Yuri content? Check out these headcannons and one shots!

Yuri Briar x Sick! Fem! Reader

Slightly mean! Yuri Briar x Fem! Reader

Yuri Briar x Fem! Reader headcannons + other fandoms!

Have any requests? Check my masterlist to see the characters I write for: Masterlist (Please request, I have too much free time and too little fics).

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arminsfavoritepookie · 2 years ago

Text

SOLITUDE by @arminsfavoritepookie

Pairing: MIKASA X FEM READER

(modern au pt.1). pt2 | I’ll post pt.3 if anyone requests it

Synopsis: In which you engage in a illicit forbidden relationship with your boyfriend’s best friend

Contains: Cheating, WLW smut, toxic relationships, cursing, smoking, alcoholism, forced proximity, jealously, public sex, secret relationship, choking, sexual tension, idk gay shit, etc Plot is nonexistent it's just smut...

Mikasa reached for her ancient, sputtering lighter and held it to the end of her cigarette. The flame flared up and illuminated her relaxed pose - her legs spread wide, her eyes hooded with some unidentifiable emotion. Smoke quickly pervaded the room as she took a deep drag, and a sense of anticipation spread throughout. There was something powerful in the way she inhaled and exhaled, and it held you captive, watching her as you felt an unfamiliar feeling swell up in your chest.

The tobacco aroma wafted across the room, enveloping you in an embrace of a million sensations that were as mystifying as they were magnetic. There was a certain peace in the moment and you couldn't help but to admire her enigmatic presence as you tried to puzzle out her silent and emotion-filled expression.

Mikasa kept smiling, no hint of her true emotions peeking through her relaxed facade. You found it almost infuriating how nonchalant she was about the whole situation, yet you couldn't bring yourself to get angry. A heavy, uneasy silence fell between the two of you, and all you wanted was for the moment to pass quickly. Why was she here, you wondered. Your boyfriend was, unfortunately, not present, yet Mikasa had shown no sign of surprise.

And you, with your gracious and hospitable attitude, had extended an offer of refreshments, regretting the invitation even before it had left your lips. All you wanted to do was escape the oppressive atmosphere that had developed, but all you could do was sit there, waiting for some kind of cue to give you an excuse to leave.

You shifted restlessly on the couch, your fingertips almost itchy with the urge to reach out to her. An unknown unease brewed within your being, it could have been from the anticipation that had filled your being since the start or it might have been the massaging of your own thighs in an effort to draw her attention to you. As the charged atmosphere hung between the two of you, an immense desire to make your feelings known took over, enveloping you completely. Just being in her vicinity had caused a flurry of intense emotions to arise within you

❝How you been, pretty?❞ she whispered, her arm stretched out along the couch and her lavender scent filled the room. Her gaze directed at the television, yet you could tell that she was entirely focused on you.

You lifted your head up from the depth of its hibernation, responding to her faint plea for acknowledgment. You hesitated before delivering your words, contemplating every possible answer you could conjure up within your soul.

"I'm doing alright, just feeling a bit exhausted," you said. She gave you a subtle nod, yet her eyes betrayed her discontentment. Your words hung in the air, and you could feel the tension building. You knew she wasn't pleased with your answer and it left you feeling very uneasy. A weary smile grazed across your face as the minutes dragged.

As you forced your gaze to the ceiling, a red hue passed through the otherwise gray fog from the burning tip of the cigarette. Even with your lungs slowly dying, the overpowering fragrance of the smoke seemed like a powerful reminder of her presence in the room. Her smoky tendrils danced across the floor like a spell was being woven and captivated your senses. You turned to Mikasa, coughing and found yourself momentarily transfixed.

Her formfitting clothes revealed the well-toned muscles beneath her shirt as she smoothly exhaled her smoke with every movement. A playful glimmer lit up her eyes as she cocked an eyebrow, clearly aware of the effects she had on you. Her grin widened and she carelessly flicked the remaining embers of her cigarette into the tray. You sighed in response, wishing you could focus on anything but her. Yet you couldn't look away from the enchanting figure as the smoke engulfed the room, capturing you both within it.

Mikasa's sensual laugh reverberated around the room, sending a thrill of anticipation down your spine and making you feel flushed with embarrassment. Despite trying to ignore it, you could still feel her piercing gaze upon you, knowing that smirk was never too far away. "Fuck, pretty, I'm sorry, I should have asked if it was okay to smoke in here," Mikasa said in a voice that was both sweet and dangerous. "Forgive me?"

Your heart raced against your chest, as you locked eyes with Mikasa. She had come closer to you, and your body tensed as her thigh pressed against yours. Taking a deep breath, you said with a feigned confidence,

"I'm not a baby Mikasa, I've smoked plenty of times". To emphasize your point, you let out a raspy cough. Mikasa seemed amused by your attempts to impress her and gave you a mischievous smirk. "Don't be afraid to tell me the truth, pretty, there's nobody here except you and me." Her words had a playfulness in them that made you feel annoyed—her dark eyes sparkled as she held your gaze

And to everyone else, that statement of hers could've come off as polite and conversational, like she was just a good friend of Armin's. But you knew the truth - she was up to no good. It was her trademark move - unannounced visits, overly intimate touches and gestures, endearments like 'pretty,' when she had no right to say them. Knowing how you reacted to words like that. And she kept at it despite the fact that Armin was in a relationship with you - and she was his best friend.

Your sweet boyfriend whom is completely oblivious to her flirting, blissfully unaware of the simmering desire that swells in every exchange of looks and touch.

❝What are you thinking now?❞ You saw the smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, almost as if she had read your mind, and that is what sends shivers down your spine: her power to guess what is going on inside of you, tease you, ask you what you are feeling when she probably knows already. She was merely unabashedly flirting with you.

Deep down, a dark and twisted side of you enjoyed the situation, but you couldn't bring yourself to tell her off and simply kept your gaze fixed ahead and pretended to be entertained by her flirting and touches. You lacked courage, and she was all too aware of it. "Are you just going to ignore me, pretty?" Mikasa came closer, placing her hand on your thigh, sending a wave of alarm, nervousness, and excitement through your body as the boundaries slowly faded away.

❝Come on, tell me what's going through your mind,❞ she said, her breath caressing your skin. Her hands gently moved dangerously near your clit, sending jolts of electricity to your heat. You let out a desperate sigh, a need so strong that you could barely control it. In the midst of your desire, you surprisingly asked if she had any more cigarettes left. She stared at you in shock before slowly retrieving another cigarette and lighter from her pocket, her lips quirked in amusement.

❝Shall we do a shotgun since you seem so eager?❞ A knowing smirk painted her face and the air around them suddenly seemed to crackle with something new, something captivating, something electrifying. You felt a flicker of unease; you had stepped into unknown territory.

❝Don't be scared, my love, it's only a lil smoke, I promise just inhale for me,❞ she cooed as she raised the cigarette to her lips again, her eyes glimmering in the darkness. You nervously took up the lighter and flipped it open, holding the flame to the end of the cigarette. Your heart raced and you looked up, meeting her gaze in the momentary burst of light.

She inhaled deeply from the cigarette, holding the smoke in her mouth while her palm was placed on your face. A cool sensation swept through you as she exhaled the smoke through your lips, their softness just barely touching each other as if a silent game was being played between you, and a fight ensued to see who would surrender first. Mikasa flicked her tongue across your lower lip, which resulted in a quiet moan erupting from you. Her heavy eyes locked with yours, an amused expression gracing her features.

"God, baby you really are filthy you know that?." White streams of smoke lingered in the air while she pulled back and studied you. The feel of her mouth pressed against yours stirred up a frenzy of feelings inside you. Every inch of your body was enveloped in sensations that can only be described as chaotic and blissful all at once.

As you gazed upon her with your heart ablaze with desire, she inhaled the last bit of the cigarette with her eyes closed, the hint of a smirk spread across her lips and her head tilted back against the sofa. The smoky air was heavy, almost palpable.

And then—Suddenly, you heard your cellphone ringing.

#mikasa smut #rivaille x mikasa #mikasa x y/n #mikasa x reader #mikasa aot #shingeki no kyojin mikasa #mikasa x you #mikasa fluff #attack on titan mikasa #wlw smut #gxg scenarios #aot x you #aot x reader #aot fanfiction

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hb-writes · 1 year ago

Text

The Thick of It

Summary: Charlie Specter is in the midst of an absolutely terrific new fantasy series and she won't let anything get in the way of devouring it...well, with some minor exceptions such as the minimally required amount of sleep to stay functioning and revenge against her cold-handed brother.

Prompt (from anon): "Your hands are cold" with Charlie and Harvey <3

Characters: Harvey Specter & Charlie Specter

Warnings: some allusion to cursing, but nothing really. Pretty in love with this one, actually.

Suits (Lines to Live By) Masterlist

With a little more than two hundred pages left to the third book in her new favorite series, Charlie hadn’t found much reason to stop reading the night before. She was exhausted from a long week at school and she had a paper due on Monday that probably should have taken at least slight precedence, but it was a weekend. Time to let loose. Time for a little self care.

That’s what she had told Harvey anyway when he returned from his date to find Charlie there on the couch in her robe and three blankets. He had scoffed at her excuse and her excessive blankets—it was a little cold out, the temperatures in the city plummeting a bit prematurely considering it was only October—but he had shifted the thermostat by a few degrees anyhow. Better to do that than to listen to her complain all weekend.

Because Charlie had made it clear that she had no interest in leaving the house, not with the temperature where it was and the rain that was forecasted, and not considering she was in the grip of those books he had barely seen her without over the last few weeks.

He’d amassed nothing from the titles. If someone had asked, he’d have told them his sister was reading something called The Royal House of Stone & Fire & Snowfall…or something like that. He didn’t have a clue what it was, but Charlie had told him they were fantasy novels, leaving it at that.

Falling asleep when she did, sprawled on the couch at 4:37 am, with the apartment dim and just one little lamp left on to illuminate the words on the page…well, that had been an accident. Charlie hadn’t meant to fall asleep, especially seeing as she’d made it so far—only two chapters left in the book.

She wasn’t sure how she had even left things off where she did. She’d always had the distinct feeling that by setting down a book in the thick of it, she was just leaving the characters she had come to love steeped in crisis, leaving them suspended there in whatever terrible bit of plot the author had written them into. And Charlie had left her new favorite characters in something akin to hell since falling asleep nearly two hours before.

She fell asleep with the sounds of a fictional battle echoing in her mind, but the apartment had been still and silent when she woke. Still and silent and…empty?

Some part of her was disappointed for giving in to her mortal needs not finishing the book already, but another distinct part of her thought maybe falling asleep had been a blessed thing seeing as Harvey was already gone, a note left on the kitchen counter explaining that he’d gone out for a run. A run that he no doubt would have dragged Charlie out on if she was awake when he’d come through. It sounded like a particularly unsavory type of hell to her—running in the freezing cold, gray skies threatening rain and preventing the sun from making any sort of noticeable rise.

Truth be told, Charlie was a little surprised Harvey hadn’t tried to wake her, hadn’t tried to convince her to join, but considering how out of it she felt now, barely functioning as she went about starting the coffee maker, Charlie thought it possible that her brother did try to wake her before giving up and determining her to be a lost cause.

The coffee maker began brewing and Charlie shuffled back across the room, to the couch and her book, burrowing back beneath the covers and reclaiming the warmth she’d left there. She’d be done with this book within the hour and she was glad that she had the next one beside her on the coffee table…glad she’d thought ahead to get it out of the library before the weekend, but for now…Charlie dove back into battle, rejoining her friends in the thick of it.

“Do I need to get your damned ears checked?”

Charlie didn’t even remember hearing her brother come in though Harvey’s tone suggested there’d been at least a few other questions preceding that one. Charlie thought she might have even heard a whisper of those questions, but it was hard to tell. If anything, Harvey’s voice had been on the distant periphery of Charlie’s awareness almost like the ghost of an echo or a calling from another world entirely because as far as she could tell, she wasn’t really here. Not in New York. Not in their penthouse. Not on the couch in her pajamas. Certainly not in the same space and time as her brother.

“Huh?” she asked, not bothering to pull her eyes away from the book. She didn’t need her eyes to hear him. Or her focus. And if she did need those things, whatever Harvey had to say was going to have to wait because Charlie was busy, and about 97% elsewhere, with only a handful of pages left to go.

She jumped as Harvey’s hand, the one that was indeed located in the very real, very cold world that was New York, clasped down on the exposed skin at the back of her neck. Reconciling very quickly with the concepts of time and space and temperature, Charlie scrambled to push him away, still holding the book open with one hand as she grabbed at his arm.

“Stop it, Harvey. Your hands are cold!”

Harvey chuckled as Charlie struggled, part of him savoring the warmth because his fingers were, in fact, frozen. “Are they?” he asked, releasing his grip only to settle the back of his chilled hand against her cheek.

“Yes!” She hissed, lifting the book and using it to smack his arm. “Do it again and I’ll break your fingers.”

Harvey pulled his hand away, but Charlie still hit him again for good measure, finding she rather enjoyed the resounding thump the paperback made upon contact even if the deviation was keeping her from finishing the story.

Harvey raised an eyebrow and Charlie stilled, arm mid-swing. “You hit me with that book again and I’m chucking the goddamned thing off the balcony.”

“I’m almost done with it so whatever,” Charlie lowered her arm, finding her page once again as she settled back into the couch. “Give me three minutes to finish reading and maybe I’ll take a whack at your head next time.”

She was about to start reading again, but Charlie turned to Harvey instead, the sickly-sweet, smug smile she’d intended on giving him falling from her face as Harvey held up the next book in the series after he snatched it from the coffee table.

“Yeah, and what about this one?”

Charlie set her current book down, readying herself to stand. “You wouldn’t dare. Give it back or—” Harvey shrugged, fitting the book under his arm and Charlie growled.

“Harvey, give it back!”

She reached out for the book, leaning over the back of the couch even as Harvey took a step back.

“How about you tone down the grumpy and take a nap, and I’ll think about it?”

Charlie huffed, turning away from him to resettle amongst her blankets and her book. “You’re a real jerk, you know that? A real ass—”

Charlie shouted, quickly ducking down under the covers after the book slammed against the back of her head, the thump no longer quite as satisfying when it was her body the book was making contact with. She had half a mind to go after him again, to start an all out war if that’s what he wanted, but it was a fleeting thought as she weighed her options.

As she weighed the book in her hands and recalled that not only did Harvey have a fair bit of weight and height and strength up on her, but he also held the fourth book in the series in his hands, the longest and thickest book of the series so far.

“Alright, alright. Truce, please,” she called out from beneath the blankets, already deciding that although she would let it go for now, Charlie would get her brother back later, whenever she finally got to the sixth book and it’s impressive 1067 pages…a verifiable tome that she had already confirmed was only available in hardcover format at the local library.

Suits (Lines to Live By) Masterlist

#suits #suits tv #suits usa #suits netflix #harvey specter #harvey specter fanfiction #charlie specter #lines to live by #halloween prompts 2023 #cleaning out my inbox december

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