#this is getting wildly out of hand but it's still fun to write

[merge-conflict]

most wanted

a/n: Valentine is referred with he/him and she/her pronouns here and neither are misgendering. :)

There’s only one place cool enough in the entire motel to keep Adam Smasher’s frame within the expected limits for hibernation– and even then only barely– which has left Alt very little processing capacity with which to determine her next course of action. The late owner had invested lavishly in his bolt hole, dug deep into the hard-packed desert soil and shielded from any but an intense scan, but he had not maintained anything like a working network. She has had no choice but to outsource workloads to the resources she has at hand and keep watch out for trouble while they all recover far from the grasping hands of Arasaka.

Long habit has her working silently. Even if Rogue or Johnny or Kerry had agreed to let her borrow their spare CPU cycles, she knows they would never agree to serve as her eyes and ears. So she does not ask. Their personal concerns are of no particular interest to her– and she keeps close tabs on Johnny only for his own health. He is the selfish star about which the others still orbit, and her responsibility whether he wishes it or not.

She receives the data feeds asynchronously, processed and transmitted over her ad-hoc network based on heuristics from bio feedback and natural language processing. It’s crude at best, nothing like what she can do when half of her isn’t compressed and tucked away, but it’s better than operating blind.

The first notification she receives that is early in the morning, the strength of Johnny’s adrenaline response overriding several other weighted variables. She sees what he sees, time shifted by several seconds after she frees her attention. The decreased frequency of his dreams has not been accompanied by a decrease in intensity. When he catches his breath he moves as though to swing his legs out of bed and then stops for no reason she can discern, looking at the sleeping forms of V and Kerry. His eyes linger on the rise and fall of their chests, the place where their shoulders touch– she dismisses the feed and returns to working through Smasher’s black box.

The second notification comes much later, from V. The timestamps on the recording already a few minutes old.

“–cause I needed to talk to you about something.”

Kerry stops abruptly in the middle of the stairs, forcing V to stop as well, one hand on the railing and the other on his shoulder. “Talk about what?”

“About backing me up,” V says, patiently. As with Johnny, the relic provides Alt with an incredible array of information– only unlike with Johnny, V knows she is watching.

<< Any words of wisdom from up on high?

The message comes directly on the heels of the first transfer of data. Alt sets it aside, awaiting further context.

“Backing you up for what?” Kerry asks cautiously, adjusting his grip around V’s side before continuing to help him down the stairs. The exertion keeps V from replying until they have reached the bottom, where he lets out a little sigh of relief.

“Convincing Johnny not to launch another crusade.”

Kerry winces and then laughs bitterly. “Nobody gets Johnny to change his mind but Johnny.”

Alt is the one who rebuilt V, so she knows him more intimately than anyone else but Johnny could. She understands the little rush that follows this declaration is happiness, confidence in the joy of new existence– of being something transformed. Something entirely new and unconcerned with what has been left behind. She understands it very well.

He says, “Johnny is going to change his mind.”

“If you’re so confident, what do you need me for?”

“You don’t want to?”

They come to a stop in front of one of the motel’s vending machines, which has suffered no small amount of physical abuse but remains cheerily lit, advertising a wide array of plastic-wrapped food and cheap entertainment. V leans on it, taking the most of the weight off his leg as he waits for an answer. Kerry frowns, pulling his cap down a little further, exposed for reasons that have nothing to do with avoiding the gaze of the few other remaining guests.

“Had this kind of argument before, remember? Never ends well.”

V sighs, but he can’t hide the intensity of his emotional response from Alt with just a neutral expression. This is the reaction that drew her attention, and for good reason. “I’ll beat it into his thick skull if I have to. I’ve done it before.”

Kerry hesitates, but before he can reply, Alt pauses the feed, distracted by another alert– this one the mention of her own name. She’s too resource constrained to watch two feeds simultaneously, so she simply swaps to the new one, picking up a conversation that is already a minute old.

“You really think he’s going to agree to that?” Rogue is asking Johnny, as she leans back in her chair.

“Got her here, didn’t I?” Johnny replies, his pacing undermining his confident tone. “Why do you call her that, anyway? She’s not a guy, she’s–“ He gestures irritably, with all his usual social grace.

“Never said he was,” Rogue answers. There’s something significant in her pause, but Alt lacks the data to determine what it is. “I wouldn’t do it if he didn’t appreciate it.”

“Yeah, right,” Johnny laughs. “You hate her guts.”

Rogue shakes her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It doesn’t matter. And what exactly are you going to do about Kerry?”

“What about Kerry?”

“I’m trying to help, remember?”

“Then help, instead of finding something else to bitch about.”

Rogue has admirable qualities, but the way she handles Johnny is not one of them. “Unless you want to take on Arasaka on your own, and I mean really on your own Johnny– you’re going to have to convince them to help too.”

“They’re already here, and so are you, Rogue. You gonna give up on me now?” Johnny runs a hand through his limp, chin-length hair. Alt doesn’t need to subject herself to the unpleasant backwash of his sensory data to know what he’s feeling. “Not exactly like you’ve got a lot to lose now, is there?”

“And whose fault is that?” They glower in silence for several seconds before Rogue adds. “And what about Alt?”

“She wants to kill Arasaka as much as I do.” He shrugs, begrudgingly. “Maybe more than I do, even. She’s not the problem.”

“And what is the problem?” Rogue asks, but before Johnny can answer V and Kerry return with breakfast.

Alt dismisses the feed and pulls up a synchronous stream instead, pinging V with a request that he immediately accepts. She finds herself back in the same room, this time looking out from his eyes instead of Rogue’s.

>> He believes there is nothing left to lose.

V manages his surge of anger passably well. Kerry, only a few inches away and always finely tuned, frowns before turning to Johnny. “What is going on? You two look like you’re about to explain how mommy and daddy are getting divorced.”

“Jesus, Ker–“ Johnny says, mildly. “It’s the opposite. Getting the band back together. Doing it right this time.”

“Doing what right?” V asks, in a tone that instantly raises Johnny’s hackles.

“Taking Arasaka down for good.”

“Militech’s favorite force majeure.”

Rogue laughs, although the sound seems to be involuntary. “Does that make Alt an act of god?”

Johnny ignores her. “Newsflash V, that old ronin of yours is never going to let you suck his dick, not even if you crawl back with your tail between your legs. You think–“

Despite his injury V vaults off of the bed with surprisingly alacrity, catching Johnny by surprise. They land heavily, wrestling for control, and Alt has to pick through their relic data to make sense of the fight. V hits Johnny’s bruised ribs first, stunning him long enough to break his nose. Adrenaline flares, and Johnny manages to grab V’s wrists, using his extra weight and muscle to flip him, where the pain from his leg immobilizes him as Johnny straddles his hips. He only gets in one solid blow to V’s face before Kerry pins back his arms.

“Fuck you, V,” he says, his nose and mouth rendered a vague bloody red smear through V’s occluded optics. “Sucker punch me over that fucking guard dog.”

V’s response is ragged and dazed, but no less furious. “You want to go off and die so badly I’ll kill you myself.”

“Both of you shut the fuck up,” Kerry snaps. “You’re a coward, Johnny, you know that? A goddamned coward.”

“The hell are you talking about?”

“You wanted us to live.” V’s hands come to rest on Johnny’s thighs, gripping tightly as though holding on. He blinks rapidly, clearing his vision of tears so Alt can finally see clearly. “Now you just want to throw that all away?”

“I’m not–“

“You are–“

“C’mon Ker–“

Kerry lets Johnny shrug out of the hold. He scrambles up to his feet, staunching the flow from his bloody nose with his hand before ripping off a pillow case to use instead, glaring at Rogue. “I suppose you’re in on this too, huh?”

“Common sense is not conspiracy,” Alt interrupts, broadcasting to all their comms. “It will be some time before I can drive and store this frame efficiently.” Or decide what to do with Smasher himself. “In the meantime I will not allow you to jeopardize what has already been started. And our targets will be considerably easier to hit if they are already at war with each other.”

“Targets, plural?” Rogue asks immediately, brow furrowing. “You really are insane.”

“No sane person follows Johnny out here,” Kerry says.

“I’m not going to endanger everything I’ve built by hovering over it with a big red target on my back. At least I didn’t run away from home like some lovesick puppy.”

“Shut up,” V says softly, propping himself up on one arm and reaching to Johnny with the other. All he can see are dark eyes– brown Kiroshi’s, brows furrowed, the rest of the face obscured by bloody fabric. Alt can see more, but she concedes she probably wouldn’t need to either. V’s voice is gruff, a poor mimic of Johnny’s original in everything but cadence. “Stop pouting and come here.”

"Hope you're fucking happy," Johnny answers, after a while.

"Aren't you?"

[snowballseal]

Hi! I really adore your writing. You have really caught each guys essences.

If your requests are open, I was thinking of something like how each guy would carry you and in what type of scenario. I thought Zayne would do bridal style and Sylus over the shoulder, but if you see it differently, feel free to do it as you see fit 😊

How they would carry you (LaDS)

Note: This was such a cute request!! I had fun writing it, though I definitely rewrote Rafayel's like three times cause I couldn't make up my mind on the scenario. I went with a different idea for Zayne, but I think you'll like it ;)

I really hope you enjoy this! And I hope I wrote them all well. Thank you for the request.

Also, I'm incredibly sleep-deprived, so I apologize for any mistakes/inconsistencies.

---

Sylus *over the shoulder*

“My feet hurt,” you grumble.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have worn such cheap shoes,” Sylus hums, voice bordering on between teasing and mocking.

You shoot the man a glare. He gives you a smug smile in return, arms crossing over his chest.

Of course he’s right. But you can’t admit that, not after you made such a fuss about ignoring his warning before the night began. You had been stubborn, maybe a little too stubborn. The restaurant you were going to was just so nice, how could you not wear heels? You wanted to look nice for your date, and they paired so well with your dark cocktail dress. Of course you’d forgotten about how much they hate your feet.

Every step feels like a bunch of nails digging into your feet. Why did you park so far away? Oh right, because you thought the night was so nice, you wanted to take a little walk before dinner…Not your best idea in retrospect.

Another step makes you wince.

Sylus suddenly stops. This forces you to pause as well, your arm curled around his elbow as you walk. You glance at him questioningly, trying to hide the pain, not wanting to bother him further by complaining. Or endure more of his teasing.

But his gaze burns over you intensely. You shift a little, heat climbing up your cheeks, but putting your weight on your other foot only makes that prickling pain shoot up your leg, and you can’t stop your lips from twisting into a light grimace.

For a brief moment, Sylus’ face softens. He lets out a sigh before removing his jacket. Your brow furrows as he slips it around your waist, the warmth of the fabric covering your bare legs.

“Sylus?”

“I’m not so cruel as to make a woman suffer, kitten,” he hums, securing the coat by tying the sleeves. He then leans up to your face, lips quirking up into a smirk. “Especially when she got all dolled up and pretty just for me.”

Before you can blush even darker, you’re suddenly being thrown over his broad shoulder. You let out an undignified squeak, instinctively squirming to try and get out of his grip. You kick your legs, hands scrambling against his back.

“Sylus!”

“Careful, kitten, otherwise I might drop you,” Sylus warns, voice dancing with amusement. His hand slips below the hem of his jacket to curl over the back of your thighs, locking them to his chest. You freeze, heart fluttering wildly. 

What a brute.

Though, there’s really nothing you can do to escape this man. Not that you really want to.

“Sylus, seriously, this isn’t funny,” you still whine, trying to keep face.

“Would you rather walk barefoot?”

Your nose scrunches at the thought. While you are in a nicer part of the city, it still sounds gross. You guess this is the lesser of two evils. Letting out a defeated sigh, you prop your elbows against his back to try to get comfortable. Also trying to ignore how defined his muscles feel against you.

Sylus hums approvingly, “There you go, kitten. Just relax.” 

His hand tenderly squeezes your thigh and you’re actually thankful he can’t see just how red your face is. Probably as red as the wine you had with dinner.

It’s definitely embarrassing. Especially when you pass by a few people, catching their odd stares. But it’s hard to care when Sylus starts massaging your legs, his touch overwhelmingly gentle in contrast to his previous actions. His thumb presses firm circles into your ankle, drawing a breathy sigh from you.

“Feel better, sweetie?” He murmurs, and you can feel his voice rumble through your body.

“Definitely helps,” you breathe, “Though you could have just carried me in a more comfortable way, Sy.”

“Now, where’s the fun in that?”

“This isn’t fun for me,” you grumble petulantly.

Sylus shifts, suddenly putting you down. You blink in surprise when you find yourself sitting on the hood of a familiar car, your lover leaning over you. His fingers trace your leg, grazing up your arm, until he can cup your cheek, bringing your faces so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips.

“And how can I make it up to you, my dear?” He purrs lowly, lips grazing yours teasingly.

“Well-” Letting out a shaky breath, you reach up and slip your arms around his neck. A blush still coats your cheeks, but you give him your best innocent look, pouting your lips as you mess with the silver strands at the nape of his neck. “I think a full massage at home might make up for the discomfort. The last one you gave me was pretty nice.”

Sylus quirks a brow in amusement, “Is that all?”

“Nope. I also want you to watch a sappy romcom with me. Then I’ll forgive your brutish ways.”

That breaks the intense air between you. Sylus chuckles, the sound deep and fond, making you smile. He leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“I accept your terms, kitten.”

“Good. Now chop chop, mister! Let’s get home!”

---

Zayne *koala style*

“Darling.”

Your eyes flicker open, eyelids heavy. Letting out a sleepy hum, you drag your blurry gaze to meet a pair of warm, hazel eyes. Zayne kneels beside the car, thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek to keep you from falling back asleep. You lean into his touch with a content sound, making him smile.

“We’ve arrived home,” he murmurs, voice quiet, “Would you like me to carry you inside?”

You nod, head still fuzzy with sleep. All you can really focus on is that you don’t want his touch to go away. It feels so nice.

“Alright. Can you wrap your arms around my neck for me, darling?”

You reach out blearily, your fingers blindly finding their way into the soft strands of hair at his nape. Zayne carefully turns you until your legs dangle out of the car, giving him a better angle to slip an arm under you. He picks you up like you weigh nothing, drawing you flush against his chest.

You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, letting out another happy hum as he readjusts you so you can tuck your face into his neck. One of his hands stays secured under you, the other sliding up to hold the back of your neck tenderly.

It’s almost impossible to not fall back asleep like this. Surrounded by his warmth, his fingers massaging your neck so lovingly, the gentle sway of his body as he walks. Your eyes flicker closed again as you nuzzle deeper into your lover.

You love when Zayne holds you like this. Not that bridal style isn’t nice, but this is just so much closer, so much easier for you to wrap yourself around him. Plus you like the feeling of his fingers gripping your thighs, reminding you of just how strong the doctor is. It just makes you feel…safe.

“Wish you’d carry me like this more,” you mumble thoughtlessly into his neck.

“Is that so?” Zayne hums, a small smile curling his lips.

“Mhm.” 

You press a sluggish kiss to his collarbone to show just how much you like it. Zayne’s steps falter imperceptibly. But you notice, a bubbly giggle escaping you.

“Don’t trip, Doctor Zayne,” you tease sleepily.

He pinches your thigh in warning. “Perhaps a certain hunter shouldn’t be so distracting.”

You squeak, pulling yourself further up by his shoulders. Zayne chuckles, palm smoothing over the spot, though he didn’t actually pinch you that hard. Still. You draw back a little to pout at him.

“So mean, Doctor Zayne. What if I bruise?”

“My apologies, darling,” he murmurs, not at all apologetic. You hold your pout, only weakening when he tilts his face up to brush your noses together. “I’ll be sure to treat it once we get inside. A kiss should do, hm?”

God, he’s so perfect. You’re not sure your heart can take it. The warmth behind his eyes, the small, rare show of affection. It leaves a lingering heat under your skin that turns your cheeks rosy pink, and you duck your face back into his shoulder to hide your blush.

“So, so mean,” you grumble.

A fond smile graces Zayne’s lips. If he’s being honest, he likes carrying you like this. He likes how you feel in his arms, your weight, your warmth, the rise and fall of your chest against his. It’s not often you let him take care of you without complaint, so he takes full advantage of when you do. It helps calm whatever deep-seated need he has to look after you.

The fact that you’re so easy to fluster is a mere bonus.

You settle back into a comfortable silence, barely paying attention as Zayne navigates through your apartment complex. You only notice when he shifts his arm further under you so he can fish his keys from his back pocket and unlock your shared apartment.

He doesn’t bother to turn on any lights as he carries you through your home, straight to your room. You grumble as he bends down to set you on the edge of the bed, your fingers tightening around his neck when he starts to draw back.

“Don’t go,” you plead softly.

“Wouldn’t you rather be in more comfortable clothes, sweetheart?”

“‘m already comfy,” you assure him, leaning against his chest, “Just take your pants off and cuddle with me.”

“What a bold patient I have,” he teases, though his voice dips into a low timber that makes you shiver.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, doctor,” you whisper, a little bashful, cheeks going warm again. “Just don’t want you to stop holding me.”

Zayne softens. His fingers trace along your heated cheek, drawing you back just enough so he can lean down and capture your lips in a lingering kiss. You press into him immediately, a delighted sigh passing your lips when he settles onto the bed beside you. When the kiss ends, you tuck yourself back into his side, content once again now that you get your way. A drawn-out yawn escapes you, and Zayne curls his arms around your waist, guiding you so your head can rest against his chest.

“Sleep now, I won’t go anywhere,” he promises softly into your hair.

“Mmm, love you, Zayne.”

“I love you too, my snowflake.

---

Rafayel *bridal style*

“Oh, “ you chirp, cool air washing over you as you step out of the venue, “it’s raining.”

The two of you were attending the opening night of Rafayel’s new exhibit. You’re surprised you didn’t even hear the rain, considering the streets look about flooded already. Puddles collect along the sidewalk, a small river running along the edge of the road. Paired with the rapidly setting sun, it leaves a chill in the air that makes you shiver slightly.

“I like it,” Rafayel hums and drapes an arm around your shoulders, drawing you into his side. You glance at him, biting back a smile when he playfully avoids your gaze, as if trying to keep your warm might hurt his “cool” factor. “The smell of the ocean is stronger when it rains, don’t you think? And the puddles look like tide pools.”

“They certainly do,” you giggle, “though neither of us are really prepared for the rain. Should we call a cab? I’d hate to ruin these shoes since you just got them for me.”

You look down at the kitten heels you’d worn for the event. They’re so cute, a soft baby blue color, decorated with little pearls. You remember pointing them out to Rafayel on one of your walks down the pier. They were just so pretty, and reminded you so much of him in a way, but the price was out of your range. Not that it deterred Rafayel, of course, who secretly went back the next day to get them for you.

A pair of shoes really shouldn’t mean that much to you, but every gift from Rafayel feels special. You can’t bear the thought of messing them up.

“Hmm, I think I have an easy solution.”

You let out a squeak when Rafayel suddenly ducks and sweeps you up into his arms, bridal style. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, clinging to him for dear life at the sudden loss of balance. The sound of Rafayel’s laughter rings in the air, light and full of mirth, as he dashes into the rain with you.

“Rafayel!” You squawk and break into your own fit of laughter despite the icy cold rain immediately drenching your clothes. “Rafayel! Put me down!!”

“I’m already carrying you, putting you down would just be more work,” he teases, that infuriatingly charming smile pulling at his lips. “Now you don’t have to worry about the puddles, at least.”

“But we’re still getting soaked!” You squeal, trying to hide away from the rain by tucking your face into his neck. “Why didn’t we just call a cab?”

“A little rain won’t hurt us, yeah?”

“Says the merman. It’s freezing.”

Rafayel chuckles, the sound close to your ear. Warmth blooms across your cheeks when he presses a kiss to your temple, the touch lingering and soft with adoration, making everything slow down for just a moment.

“Then hold me tight.” he whispers, voice dipping to a low rumble that has your heart racing, “Take my warmth. It’s yours, my beloved bride.”

Any remaining complaints get lost somewhere in your throat. The heat under your skin rivals the cold. A dark blush coats your cheeks, and you try to bury yourself against his chest. You can’t hide from him though, your neck just as rosy, and you can practically feel Rafayel beaming with pride.

Stupid fish.

But he is warm.

You let out a wavering sigh, pressing the cold tip of your nose into the warm crook of his neck. Rafayel shivers, but his hold around you only tightens, as if he wants to envelop you in the heat of his body. It’s almost like being held by one of those heat up stuffies. It’s so comfortable, you can’t help but melt into him, fondness for the merman curling deep inside your bones.

“Do you always run this warm?” You murmur and rest your cheek against his shoulder so you can look at his face.

“Not always,” he hums. A stray drop of rain drips down his jaw and you reach to brush it away. Rafayel’s voice shakes almost imperceptibly at the touch, the tips of his ears going red, “For the most part, Lumerians endure harsh, cold temperatures, so we actually run colder than you humans.”

“Then why are you so warm?” You ask curiously.

His blush only spreads, until his cheeks match yours. The artist glances away, almost looking embarrassed to admit, “My fire evol is useful for more than just fighting wanderers, you know.”

Ah. So he can warm himself up with his evol. And he’s doing it to keep you warm.

The revelation fills your chest with a giddy kind of love. Like, a fuzzy, dizzy kind of love. You bite back the urge to keep teasing him, to see just how red he can get. God, how can you love this man so much? Every new thing you learn about him, every surprise he somehow pulls out of his sleeve, leaves you slipping further into the ocean of affection you’re already drowning in. The rain is nothing in comparison.

“I guess you’re my knight in shining armor, then,” you sigh wistfully, “Against the wanderers and the cold weather.”

“That’s right.” Rafayel puffs out his chest a little, almost like a preening bird. A giggle escapes your lips, and he gives you one of those heart-stopping smiles. “You should really thank your knight in shining armor, cutie. Otherwise I might not feel so inclined to swoop in to save you next time.”

“Well, thank you, Rafayel.” In the blink of an eye, you reach up and draw his face down to yours, capturing his lips in a chaste, yet searing kiss. The artist jumps back, eyes wide as he stares down at your mischievous grin. “Even though we could have just taken a cab and avoided all of this.”

His shock quickly turns into a pout.

“You’re no fun, cutie.”

---

Xavier *piggyback style*

“Really, I’m fine, Xav-”

You wince as Xavier gently flexes your foot, hot pain prickling up your leg. The hunter gives you a rather disapproving look.

“You do not have to lie to me,” he sighs and lowers your foot back down, “I will not think less of you for being injured.”

Heat creeps up your neck, and you have to tear your eyes away from his soft, unassuming gaze. It really wasn’t that bad. While fighting a wanderer, you had dodged an attack too quickly, somehow, twisting your ankle in the process. You couldn’t just stop fighting though, so you had grit your teeth through the pain until you finished the wanderer off, and then collapsed on a nearby rock. That’s when Xavier had rushed over to you, asking what was wrong.

You attribute your embarrassment to the stubborn bit of pride you carry as a hunter, so used to taking care of yourself that you don’t often let others do it for you.

“I’m really okay, it’s probably just a sprain,” you grumble, “I’ll ice it when I get home.”

“And how exactly do you plan to get home?”

Your nose crinkles. Right. Glancing back at Xavier, you find him looking at you with a small, rather amused smile, eyes sparkling with mirth. The little punk. He really can be mischievous when he wants to, huh?

But you do not have an answer to his question. So you just shrug, letting out a heavy sigh. You’ll just have to rely on him this time it seems.

“Would you like me to carry you?”

Immediately, your blush spreads up your neck, painting your cheeks rosy and warm. Eyes wide, you look at him incredulously.

“Xavier, that’s- I don’t- What?”

“I can carry you.” The hunter tilts his head, much like an adorable puppy. Your heart flutters at the sight. How are you supposed to resist that?

“I mean,” you hesitate, scratching the back of your neck, “if you think that’s the best solution…”

“It’s the simplest one,” Xavier hums, quickly standing up, pulling you carefully to your feet as well.

He turns around, ducking a little so you can get on his back. You hesitate again, though.

“Are you sure?” You ask, voice wavering.

“Positive.” Xavier looks at you over his shoulder. That gentle smile curls his lips again. “Who wouldn’t want to carry a pretty girl on their back?”

God, you hate him sometimes. Shaking your head, you gingerly step closer. You curl your arms tentatively around his shoulders, careful to avoid his neck so you don’t choke him. Then you jump. Xavier catches you with ease, fingers slipping under your thighs to hold you as he stands up straight again. It only takes a moment for him to find his balance as you get comfortable, your chin tucked over his shoulder.

He hardly seems affected by your weight. Like he’s carrying a light backpack. It eases your consciousness a little.

“I always forget just how strong you are,” you mumble.

Xavier holds back a shiver at the way your breath warms his ear. His fingers tighten around your thighs though, thumbs massaging circles into your skin. You hum softly, facing tucking into the collar of his uniform. This is nicer than you thought it’d be.

“You could take a nap until we reach our destination if you’d like.”

“No,” you sigh, though you do feel suddenly exhausted, “That wouldn’t be fair. I want to keep you company.”

“Mm, okay. Then what should we talk about?” Xavier peeks at you, amusement curling in his chest at the thoughtful pout you give.

“How about…what we’ll get for dinner tonight? We did complete the mission, afterall, we deserve a treat.”

A low chuckle escapes the hunter. Tilting his head, he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Whatever you’d like, my star,” he hums, fondness warming his usually calm voice, “Is there something you have in mind?”

“That new diner opened down the block from us, we could try that!” You suggest, excitement lighting up your features, like a kid in front of a christmas tree. You look at him, smile brighter than any star he could compare you to. “What do you think?”

How could he ever resist you?

“Mmm, sounds delicious.”

“Perfect! We’ll go there then!”

You spend the rest of the walk back to the transit station talking about what dishes you might order, what movie to watch as you eat. Anything and everything. Neither of you notice the odd looks you get, too comfortable to care.

You all but forget about the pain in your ankle. Why focus on that when you can focus on the absolutely charming man willing to carry you all this way?

---

Can you tell which characters I main based on this? Just curious.

[skywalkerslvt]

Cramped—Logan Howlett

❥Pairing: Logan Howlett x AFAB!Reader (no pronouns other than 'you' mentioned)

❥Summary: While on the run from enemies, Logan and reader find a temporary hideout; a cramped supply closet. Things ensue...

❥CW: 18+, smut, forced proximity, minor dry humping, fingering, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it hoes), 2.2k words

❥a/n: god I'm such a fucking slut for this man. Hope u enjoy reading this highkey cliché fic as much as I enjoyed writing it (I had way too much fun writing this it's concerning) NOT PROOFREAD!!

The plan had seemed foolproof—until it wasn’t. What was meant to be a quiet infiltration erupted into gunfire and chaos, forcing you and Logan to improvise on the fly. You sprinted through the labyrinth of hallways, the sound of pounding footsteps and barked orders hot on your heels. Just when your lungs felt like they'd burst, Logan's hand shot out, gripping your arm and pulling you into a narrow doorway. Before you could react, he dragged you into a cramped, pitch-black closet, slamming the door behind you. His chest was flush against your back, one hand swiftly covering your mouth to stifle your gasps while the other was wrapped around your waist. The heat of his body pressed into you as his breath tickled your ear. "Quiet," he whispered, voice low and rough. "We can't outrun them. We're hiding here until they pass." The tight space, the sound of your heart pounding in your ears, and the intensity of his presence made it impossible to focus on anything else.

You could feel Logan's chest rising and falling against your back, the heat of his breath on your neck sending shivers down your spine despite the tension in the air. "Quiet, huh?" you muttered under your breath, shifting slightly against his hold. "This was your idea, remember? Charging headfirst into a whole squad of armed men?"

Logan’s grip tightened on your arm, his voice a low growl in your ear. “I didn’t hear you coming up with any better plans. Unless you count running in circles while getting shot at as a strategy.”

You rolled your eyes, even though you knew he couldn’t see it. “Maybe if you’d actually listened to me for once, we wouldn’t be hiding in a damn closet right now.”

Logan huffed, his breath warm against your ear. “Yeah, well, maybe if you weren’t so damn stubborn, we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.” 

You opened your mouth to retort, but the sudden closeness of his body, the feel of his rough hand that had moved from your mouth to your collarbone, and his hot breath fanning against your neck stopped you short. The tension between you had always been there, simmering under the surface, but now, in this cramped, dark space, it felt like it might just boil over.

Blinking, you regained your composure. “Well, I-” you began, but were quickly cut off by his hand covering your mouth again, your words muffled against his flesh. 

“Someone's coming,” he breathed, his grip on you tightening as you were pulled impossibly closer against his body. Sure enough, footsteps sounded outside the door a few moments later. 

As the footsteps halted right outside the door, the tension between you and Logan grew almost unbearable. Your heart pounded wildly, not just from fear, but from the electric charge that seemed to crackle in the air between your bodies. Logan's chest pressed firmly against your back, his hand still covering your mouth. The warmth of his breath fanned against your neck, sending shivers down your spine despite the danger lurking just beyond the door.

You were hyper-aware of every point of contact–his solid body behind you, the rough texture of his hand on your skin, the way his breath hitched slightly as the person outside hesitated, listening.

Your senses were on overdrive, each second stretching out as your body reacted to Logan's closeness in ways you couldn't control.

It was wrong, wildly inappropriate given the situation, but the feel of his hard chest against your back, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, was doing things to you that you'd never admit out loud. You shifted slightly, trying to ease the tension in your muscles, but the movement only made things worse–or better, depending on how you looked at it.

Your slight wiggle caused your hips to brush against his in the confined space, and Logan's grip on you tightened, a low, almost imperceptible groan escaping him. The sound sent a thrill straight to your core, your breath catching in your throat as you realized what you'd just done. You could feel the hard length of him pressing against you, his "predicament" unmistakable in the dark, cramped closet.

Logan's fingers flexed against your waist, his breath coming faster, rougher against your ear. He didn't pull away, didn't loosen his grip, and for a moment, you were both frozen, caught in the tension of the moment, the thin line between danger and desire.

Your pulse raced, and the temptation to grind back against him, to push things just a little further, was almost overwhelming. The footsteps outside were retreating, but neither of you moved, the charged silence between you heavy with unspoken need.

Logan sighed, his head thrown back against the wall in shame. He cleared his throat, his grip on your waist loosening slightly. “Listen…I-” he cut himself off with a groan as you pushed your ass back against crotch, your desire for him pushing your fear of getting caught to the side. 

“Shh. Just–just shut up,” you whispered, eyes squeezing closed as you leaned your head back against his shoulder. 

Logan's breath hitched at the unexpected pressure, his body reacting instinctively to the friction. His hand tightened on your waist, pulling you even closer as he groaned low in your ear, his restraint slipping. You could feel the heat of him through his pants, hard and insistent against you, the tension between you igniting like a spark to dry tinder.

"Fuck, you're really playing with fire," Logan rasped, his voice strained, teetering between warning and desire.

But he didn't push you away. Instead, his fingers dug into your hip, his chest pressed so tightly against your back that you could feel the rapid beat of his heart matching your own.

The weight of your mutual attraction was heavy in the cramped space, the unspoken desire that had been simmering beneath the surface now threatening to consume you both. You could sense the hesitation in Logan's movements, the conflict between wanting to push you away and the undeniable need that had taken hold of him.

"Yeah, well," you breathed, your own voice shaky with both fear and excitement, "maybe I like the heat."

You felt Logan's lips brush against the shell of your ear, his fingers now trailing your waistband, his hot breath fanning across your skin as his resolve finally broke. “Tell me you don't want this. Tell me to stop,” he muttered, but the way his body pressed into yours, hard and unyielding, told you he wasn't planning on stopping anytime soon.

You shook your head, breathing out a soft “no,” and that was all Logan needed to hear. His hand made its way down the front of your pants, fingers rubbing slow circles on your clothed clit as he sloppily kissed and bit at your neck. 

A small, breathless moan escaped your lips, the sound muffled by the thick air in the cramped closet. Logan's reaction was immediate–his hand left your waistband and clamped over your mouth again, his lips now brushing against your ear as he whispered harshly, "You need to keep quiet, darlin. Or we'll both get caught, and this won't end the way either of us wants."

The combination of his roughened voice and the intoxicating closeness sent a shiver down your spine. The feel of his body so intimately pressed against yours, his hand possessively over your mouth, only fueled the fire building inside you. But the very real danger just outside the door added a sharp edge to your desire.

Logan's hand lingered on your mouth, as if he wasn't sure whether you'd manage to hold back the sounds threatening to spill from you, the tension in his grip telling you he was barely holding on himself. His hips pressed into yours, the heat between your bodies growing more intense by the second, and all you could think about was how badly you wanted him, consequences be damned.

Logan's fingers hovered at the waistband of your pants, his resolve hanging by a thread. You could feel his hesitation, the way his chest heaved against your back as if he were trying to convince himself to stop. But when your hips shifted back, pressing firmly against him, it shattered any remaining restraint.

His hand slipped beneath the fabric of your pants, his rough fingers sliding past your underwear and finding your slick heat. A choked sound rumbled in his chest as his fingers began to move, slow and deliberate, tracing soft circles that sent jolts of pleasure through your body. He pressed his lips against your neck, muffling his own groans as he worked you over, the rhythm of his fingers steadily increasing in pace.

You bit your lip hard, trying to keep quiet, but each twist of his fingers made it harder and harder to hold back the whimpers threatening to escape.

Logan's other hand remained firmly over your mouth, his breath ragged in your ear. He was losing control, his fingers moving faster, deeper, curling inside you with a hunger that matched your own.

"Fuck," he growled softly, the curse slipping past his lips as he felt you tightening around him, your body responding eagerly to his touch. He couldn't take it anymore. The sound of your muffled moans, the way you writhed against him–it was driving him insane.

Without warning, he withdrew his fingers, earning a frustrated whimper from you. But before you could protest, he spun you around, pressing your back against the rough wall of the closet. His eyes were dark, filled with a raw, unbridled need as he captured your lips in a bruising kiss, his hand already working at the buttons of your pants.

You broke the kiss just long enough to gasp for air, your hands fumbling with the buckle of his belt, desperate to feel him inside you. Logan groaned into your mouth, the sound low and primal, as he shoved your pants down just enough to give him access.

He pressed you harder against the wall, lifting one of your legs to wrap around his waist as he freed himself from the confines of his pants. The feel of him, hot and hard against your thigh, made your head spin, and when he finally thrust into you, the sensation was overwhelming–an exquisite mix of pleasure and pain.

Logan's grip on your waist tightened, his forehead resting against yours as he began to move, each thrust rough and urgent, his hips slamming into yours with a rhythm that was desperate, almost frantic. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he drove into you, his breath hot and ragged against your ear.

"Fuck... you feel so good," he groaned, his voice barely a whisper, but the raw emotion behind it sent a thrill through your entire body. The tension between you, the weeks of pent-up frustration and unspoken desire, all came pouring out in the way he fucked you–hard, fast, and with a reckless abandon that left you breathless.

Every thrust pushed you closer to the edge, your moans growing louder despite your best efforts to stay quiet. Logan's hand quickly covered your mouth again, his other arm wrapped tightly around your waist to keep you steady as he pounded into you. "Quiet," he rasped, though the quiver in his voice betrayed his own struggle to keep silent. "Can't let them hear how badly you want this. How badly you want me."

The filthy words pushed you over the edge. Your body tightened around him, pleasure crashing through you in waves, and Logan groaned loudly against your ear as he followed you over the edge, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside you.

For a moment, the world outside the closet ceased to exist, leaving only the sound of your ragged breaths and the aftershocks of your release. Logan kept his forehead pressed against yours, his chest heaving as he tried to regain control.

Finally, he pulled back slightly, his hand still resting on your waist as he looked into your eyes, the intensity in his gaze softened by the shared experience. "You alright?" he asked, his voice low and hoarse.

You nodded, still catching your breath, the weight of what just happened slowly sinking in. But there was no time to dwell on it–footsteps sounded in the distance, reminding you both that the danger was far from over.

Logan adjusted your clothes quickly, his hands surprisingly gentle despite what had just transpired. "We gotta move," he whispered, his tone back to business, though the lingering heat in his eyes told you that what had just happened was far from forgotten.

With one last, lingering look, Logan cracked the door open, peering out to make sure the coast was clear. Then, with a silent nod, he took your hand, leading you out of the closet and back into the chaos that awaited.

[earth4angels]

𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

jacaerys velaryon x aunt!targaryen reader ͟ ͟ ͟ friends to lovers, sexual content but no smut, incest (reader is aunt), fluff, semi angst(?), aemond being dumb, jace knows how to fight, i refuse to believe laenor never taught his kids how to defend themselves. slight switch of povs, basically the dinner fight, but added my own take, not edited.

summary: after the accident in driftmark the relationship between y/n and jacaerys became distant, when it came to the petition of the heir to driftmark, feelings came back full force. it took a bloody fight yet again to get jacaerys to act on his feelings before it was too late. but also, to unite the house of the dragon.

a/n: um? this is probably more than 1k words, i really went in. i had so much fun writing this & gosh.. do i have the guts to expand their relationship BUT ANYWAYS ENJOYYYY

somewhat based on this request. jace tag list: @jacaerysgf, @star611, @jules420, @gracexthoughts, @astrxq, @reyndaisy, @hxtd

For as long as Jacaerys can remember, he had always felt deep affection for his dearest aunt who was no more than a year older.

At first, it started with a childish admiration for how she spoke to him, how she would run her fingers through his curls when he would run towards her after sword training, read stories about the doom, or Visenya who she claimed was the best warrior to ever exist. Jacaerys admired her, she was his favorite aunt not that he had many but besides Helaena, she was his favorite. Again, it started with a childish crush. The smallfolk had a joke spread about how if anyone wanted to find Y/N, one had to look for small Jacaerys who followed closely behind her like a pup.

She never minded the talk, she loved her siblings and her nephews, it was one thing that differed her from her own brothers, who grew to despise the Velaryon boys. She loved Jacaerys, the way he always spoke of his growing bond with Vermax, the small adventures they would take to the gardens, or the adventures they took through the secret passages, and the library. She especially loved the moments he would sneak her strawberry cakes during her high valyrian studies when no one was looking. To her, Jacaerys was so dear to her heart, she dreamed childishly how it would be if they married.

She never understood why the hatred grew to the point everything that pointed toward her older sister was prohibited. Her siblings never had a close relationship with their father, but she did, she enjoyed the stories her father told her, but she mostly loved building and painting his replica of the seven kingdoms with him. Her father, King Viserys had always talked to her about protecting their own, as it was said, the House of the Dragon had to stay together to hold the realm united.

"Damn bastard," Aemond muttered under his breath as he rushed past her dusting his now muddy training gear. She narrowed her eyes at her brother, the word bringing her to wince. It was not the first time she heard it, at the age of 6, her mother had prohibited her from spending time with her half-sister and her children since the fight at Driftmark. She understood why, but she could not bring herself to be cold towards her half-family.

"Brother, enough." Y/n had her hand up to his shoulder, Aemond's one eye glared at her, "You must learn to let go of this anger, it is treason to speak of that word out loud."

Aemond scoffed, "Of course, my dear sister, protecting the bastards, you still defend them after what they did to me?" Aemond had snatched his eyepatch from his eye, showing its bright blue glow of a gem towards her.

"Brother... we were all children! Luce was only protec-" She choked as she was now slammed against the wall, a hand tight around her neck, she wildly stared at him, alarmed.

"Protecting? Dear sister, you are more than a fool. You rather protect bastards than the blood of the dragon?" Aemond chuckled in disbelief, "You, the same as father are fools."

He let go of her as she slumped against the wall, her hand clasped around her throat as she heaved, trying to get air back into her lungs. She watched teary-eyed from the loss of air the shadows of her brother grow distant with the further he went down the hall.

"Y/n?" a voice spoke from the opposite side of the hall. She looked back to meet the face of her once-best friend. "Seven hells! What happened?!"

Jacaerys rushed towards her, lifting her carefully as if she were the most fragile jewel to exist. In a sense to Jacaerys, she was.

She blinked, confused as to where he had come from. The last time she saw him, they were children, and he had promised to write her, yet after five ravens, the letters stopped, causing her to believe he had grown to hate her for what happened that night. It was then she realized why Aemond was so upset, why her mother suddenly left her and Heleana from embroidery to attend the council. Her mother avoided greeting her half-sister. Today was the petition of who was going to take over Driftmark. The house of the dragon was united once again, but not in the way she wanted to.

"Nephew?" She asked, confused again.

"Come, sit here. Let me get you some water," Jacaerys had placed her in the comfort of the shade of a tree. He had removed his cloak, placing it on the ground for her to sit as he ran to get her water. She stayed in silence beside her dry coughs that slipped once in a while. Jacaerys appeared again with a glass of water, she muttered a soft thank you before she drank till her throat was once again free from the harsh itches.

She looked toward him, finding him looking at her softly, his eyes burying themselves in the soft lilac color of her eyes. She blushed, coughing to avoid looking at him instead she focused on the grass beside her, picking at it softly.

"So... care to explain why you have a red mark on your neck?"

Y/n bit the inside of her cheek before she focused her stare on the blank blue sky, if Jacaerys was not paying attention he would have missed the soft murmur of her voice, "It was nothing."

Jacaerys opened his mouth to argue when the bells of the castle banged so hard that they echoed through the hallways.

"Don't think I won't let this go y/n," he spoke softly beside her, she only blinked in response. He shook his head as his tongue touched the roof of his mouth and he let go, making a sound that almost sounded like a click.

"You should go, my sister would probably be worried as to why you are taking so long. It is rude to keep your mother waiting."

Jacaerys rolled his eyes, before he lifted a hand towards her, a gesture for her to grab onto it. She stared at his pale hand, taking a moment to admire the changes, he was muscular now, and no more stood the boy who almost looked easy to push around. She followed the path of his hand toward his face, her breath hitching when she realized he still wore the necklace she had made him when they were children.

"You... you kept it?" Y/n stuttered, pointing to his neck. Jacaerys hummed, touching it delicately, his fingers rubbing softly at the soft shells. She had made that the day of Laena's funeral, she went and followed the path towards the beach to find seashells. She made it in hopes for him to feel better. She never thought he would keep it after all those years.

"Why wouldn't I?"

She stood up on her own avoiding his touch in fear she might want to curl into the safety of his hold.

“Go figure. You stopped writing to me.”

“What?” Jacaerys stood in front of her, stopping her from stepping another step further from him, “I never stopped? What do you mean I stopped? I sent so many ravens to you. I never heard from you after the fourth or fifth one.”

Now she was confused. “I sent you ravens too! You never sent me any back, I waited… I figured you just blamed me for what happened,” she muttered.

Jacaerys did another click with his tongue, before he reached out to her, her small hands fitting perfectly well inside his.

“Whatever happened that night, it’s forgotten. We were children, you were not even there for me to blame you. Aemond being your brother changes nothing, I still care for you just as much as I did when I was a child.”

She tightened the hold of his hands between hers before looking into his eyes, all she found was a soft gaze, not anything that was malicious, as she would find mostly in Aemond’s eye.

She opened her mouth, then closed it, she did not want to tell him how she felt for him. It was like Jacaerys had read her mind, though he was one year behind her, he always looked after her, to Jacaerys - she was everything he wanted in a wife, and he dreamed of making her as such.

“I’ve missed you, did you not?” he lifted one hand to caress her braid that was left falling off her shoulder to slowly reaching for her cheek where he held her delicately once again.

Y/n smiled, the fluttering feeling in her stomach making it hard to not release a giggle, she felt home.

“Of course I did Jace, I missed you so much.”

Ser Arryk spoke from the entrance of the garden, his armor glittering with the rays of the sun reflecting it, “Princess? The queen is expecting you in the grand hall.”

She nodded, feeling regretful of not spending more time with Jace, she had so much to tell him, to get caught up on.

“Thank you Ser Arryk, I will be there in a minute.”

She looked towards Jace again finding him still looking at her, a glint of mischief flashed, she narrowed her eyes making him smirk, “I guess you have to go aunt.”

The way he said it made her want to clench her thighs together, she cleared her throat, “I’ll see you soon my dearest nephew.”

He laughed like the word from her mouth was the biggest joke he had heard. His curls bouncing with the shake of his body, he reached down for her hand, placing a lingering kiss, “Princess.”

She watched as he turned, walking towards the grand hall passing Ser Arryk who bowed his head. Her stomach was still fluttering, all she wanted to do was jump and roll in the comfort of her bed, but she needed to meet her family and yet again witness another rift between the family.

"Her children," a long pause echoed through the grand hall, Y/n had her hands interlaced with each other, squeezing them so hard her skin was becoming white. She quickly glanced around the room, noticing her brothers smirking with anticipation, to her half-sister's family. She came across the eyes of her prince, who looked seconds from using his sharp sword to kill. She licked her lips, the anxiety building, she knew what was coming, and honestly, she was looking forward to it.

"ARE BASTARDS! And she is, a whore," Vaemond exclaimed.

Echoes of gasps and murmurs were heard, but Y/n blocked it as it all happened quickly. The blood splattered harshly like a quick burst of wind splashing her dark emerald dress. She gasped, her body being pulled back by Aegon who quickly acted to wipe off the blood off her dress and the little that landed on her face.

She would lie if she said she did not enjoy what she saw, in fact, she was glad it happened. That word being tossed around needed to be acted with a consequence, and she was proud of Daemon for warning those who followed Vaemond in speaking of her family that way.

The court ended and she was left rushed to her chambers, her ladies-in-waiting rushing to prepare a quick bath as her father requested them to have dinner together.

"You all can go," y/n spoke as she untied the laces off her dress.

"Princess-" Elydia, her closest handmaiden reached towards her to help her protested.

"Please, I need to have some moments alone, I will notify when finished."

"Princess."

She sighed, the weight on her shoulders becoming too heavy, she rolled her head side to side to relieve the pain. As she sunk into the rose-covered bath, moaning in bliss from the warmth she was sunken into, a knock was heard from her bed chamber. A familiar series of knocks, one that she missed hearing, sparking a rush of adrenaline.

She rushed to throw on a light blue gown, her hair soaking the silk material, making her breasts noticeable. Her footsteps were rushed as she reached the familiar wall by her bed, she knocked a similar tune before she pushed into it.

Jacaerys stood behind the wall, in his hands laid a wooden box with letters, her letters.

"Hi," he spoke softly, his voice sending butterflies all over her body

"Hi," she moved aside to let him enter her room, her eyes flickering quickly to the door of her room before eyeing the male before her, "What are you doing here? If my guards, see you... the scandal we could be in!"

He smirked, his plum juicy lips - she did not want to stare so much but she could not help observing him - quirked to the side, "That did not stop us when we were children."

She scoffed, "You said it yourself when we were children."

He smiled mockingly before he stopped in his tracks. He did not expect to see her so... vulnerable. The fantasies started to play out in his mind, he recalled all those moments he thought of her late at night. The fire ignited inside of him when he saw her in the garden, her hair flowing through the wind, her soft features to her soft lilac eyes.

Jacaerys wanted to propose to her mother a betrothal, to finally make y/n his, to act out all the fantasies he thought when she appeared in his mind.

"Jace?" She whispered, feeling self-conscious about the way he stared at her. He looked ready to bounce, his brown eyes scanning her up and down, she squeezed her thighs together.

"You... aunt I can see you wholly," he cleared his throat to avoid his voice sounding so raspy.

"Excuse me?" Y/n was confused until he gestured to her body, "Oh... Oh!" Her cheeks blossomed with a deep scarlet red tint; she rushed across the room to grab her robe tightly wrapping it around her body.

Jacaerys cleared his throat again, "Um... I just wanted to stop by before we saw each other at dinner again, the letters you had sent me."

Her cheeks still stained with red walked towards him, gathering the box between her hands, "So what with it?"

"I received and sent you letters y/n. I never stopped writing to you, I even made Mother annoyed with how many times I have asked her if there was ever anything sent to me."

She blinked her confusion, "Jacaerys I always wrote to you, your letters never came but I always sent you updates how things were here - "

"I know of everything, but I am giving you complete honesty on the fact that I never stopped," he stepped towards her, his hand on her cheek with his thumb rubbing soft circles calming her.

"What do you want me to do with that information? Do you know how much our families hate each other? How much Aemond goes around cursing Luce's name, your name? I shouldn't even be talking to yo-"

She stopped when he stepped closer, she felt his breath on her lips, her eyes darted down his lips to his eyes. Her breath hitched, he was so close. So close, she just wanted to taste how soft his lips truly were.

"Tell me to go, and I will. I will never bother you again, but tell me, you never want to see me, and I will."

Jacaerys hoped she never spoke of the words, as he wanted to kiss her, to tell her of the once confession he wrote in those many letters. She was just so pretty; he wanted to steal her and take her to Dragonstone where he wanted to marry her. He wanted to taste the sweetness between her legs, to have her scream, moan out his name, to fill her belly with the future heirs of Westeros.

His hand stayed on her cheek as he continued to stare, waiting for her to speak. Her breaths came out shallow and she began to shake with need.

"Don't go," she whispered, her hands reaching to grab his shoulders, pulling him closer towards her, "Please don't leave me."

"Gods," he wrapped his arms around her as he shakingly asked her, afraid she will finally reject him, but he hoped, "Can I kiss you?"

She gasped, the dazed look in her eyes fading as she began to pull away, "No... No... we can't Jacaerys! We are not betrothed, we are not promised to each other, my virtue could be quest-"

Her rambles were left to the old gods to wonder as Jacaerys placed his lips on her, "No offense, but you talk a lot."

She groaned against his lips at the jab he made but melted into the kiss, a kiss she longed for as the feelings that she did not want to admit surfaced. She only read books about the acts of kissing, yet she felt as if she knew with the way she kissed Jacaerys.

Her core suddenly felt tingly with how he was holding her, his hand deep inside her hair as the other ran down the silk of her gown to hitch a leg around his waist as he guided her down her bed.

"Jace..." she moaned, her throat begging for air as she pulled away, yet he did not stop, his lips trailing down her cheeks, prepping her with soft kisses to finally nipping at her throat. She moaned again.

"I have always wanted to do this," he whispered against her throat, "I badly want to take you, to have you sore, so fucked out of your mind that you forget your own name," he raised his head, his elbow by her head to prep himself just so he can look down at her.

She breathed heavily, "You..." she reached out, "You can't..."

"I would never dishonor you that way, but I will fight to make you, my wife. I will speak to mother, to my grandsire."

"Jace..."

He placed a kiss on her nose, smiling when she let out a giggle, "Tell me you also want me."

"I never wanted to admit it, but I do, I have always wanted you."

A knock disturbed their sweet bubble, and they both scrambled away from each other as y/n pulled her gown down. Jacaerys grabbed his cloak she did not even realize he had removed as he moved to the secret passage again.

"Princess? The queen requests your presence, dinner will start shortly."

She looked at Jacaerys as he whispered, "I will see you soon aunt." Y/n rolled her eyes but still smiled as she nodded.

The wall closed, and as if nothing happened, the room became quiet once again, she gathered her thoughts as she replied, "Almost done, please help me dress Elydia."

The entire time she was prepped for dinner she was smiling to herself. She could not wait to see her prince again. She had even requested for her hair to be loose, just two small braids creating a crown decorated her. She had wanted to look perfect for him.

Dinner was awkward, to say the least. Her family was beyond divided, as she sat beside Helaena, it was too quiet, the only noises came from the cooks who were walking around to place the food on the table. She watched as Aemond sent nonstop glares towards her nephews.

She had found out through Helaena that Aemond had lost against Jacaerys during training. Jacaerys had taken his sword one minute into sparring. It finally made sense why Aemond was so upset when she came across him in the garden. Her lips tugged into a quiet snicker at the idea of her brother being put in his place.

As she drank her wine, her father spoke.

"It pains me to see our family divided. As the house of the dragon, we must be united to have the kingdom prosper in peace. All of you must leave behind your childish arguments! Do it for me, your father, your brother, your husband, your grandsire. Leave behind this anger!"

As her older sister stood to make a toast in hopes of making peace with her mother, she made eye contact with Jacaerys who was already looking at her. He smiled softly at her before he looked towards his mother, his mouth turning into a smirk as he hid it behind his glass of wine. Her eyebrows furrowed, and as she was going to question her sister's voice came through.

"... It has been decided for the good of our families, and to make the future of House Targaryen stronger, that Princess Y/n, and my son, Prince Jacaerys be wed. They shall be in the future the King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

Alicent shot up from her chair, "What?!"

Viserys wheezed but held strong as he banged his hands onto the table preventing an argument once again, "I wholeheartedly agree to this proposal as my dearest grandson himself asked to be wed to my beautiful daughter. They are to be wed as soon as possible."

Y/n couldn't help but smile widely, "Thank you, father," she looked towards her oldest sister, "Sister."

"Har! Har! Har!" Daemon raised his glass with a mischief glint in his eyes, his mouth into a wide smirk, he enjoyed seeing Alicent and Otto Hightower's plans get ruined.

Her mother could not argue against the newest betrothal since the King had officially declared it. She also had made peace with her once close friend as they toasted to each other. However, that did not stop her brothers from having a mind of their own, their mouths ready to retaliate.

As the night passed, and her father was no longer there to hold the peace, she held her breath as she knew, no she felt the anger boiling from her family. Aegon was the first to let out jests, and with that followed Aemond who did not hold back.

Jacaerys stood, his hand slammed into his uncle's shoulders to sit him back onto his seat, "You will keep your mouth shut about my betrothed. Jest all you want about me, but my wife-to-be, you will keep shut. Understood?"

Aegon snickered, satisfied with the reaction, he lifted his hands up in surrender.

She did not want to admit how it ignited such a need for her soon-to-be husband. She has never found him any hotter than what he looked like. His curls covered his dark gaze, his veiny long hands clasped together as to hold himself back.

"Boys. Enough. Let's finish dinner without any more arguments." Rhaenyra spoke in hopes of stopping the tension that was boiling.

It was enough for a moment. As Lucerys snickered at the pig that was placed on the table, in hopes for his uncle to join in the fun, as he believed it was an innocent act of jest. The blood came and what was a peaceful dinner, turned into the dragon's war.

"I dare you to say that again," Jace spoke from beside her, his hand holding hers to calm himself.

"Are you not proud of your house, dear nephew?" Aemond mocked, Aegon snickered, as the adults surrounding them stopped their dinner to hear what was going on, "I thought you considered yourself a strong knight."

A growl-like rumble came from Jacaerys as he rushed to punch her brother over and over. She scrambled towards them, yelling for them to stop, Aemond had gotten two hits through, but Jacaerys had the upper hand as his knuckles were bloodied. The guards had come to pull her brothers and nephews apart.

"Enough! All of you, back to your chambers! Now!" Rhaenyra spoke, sending them to their rooms. Y/n felt the angry tears stream down from the exhaustion of the fights between her family.

She yelped when a hand pulled her into the shadows of pillars. With a scream stuck in her throat, she widened her eyes at Jacaerys who had his hand on her mouth to stop her from screaming.

"Come back home with me, we will marry before the old gods," he whispered.

"But if I leave, I can potentially make mother and grandsire even more mad..."

"You are already promised to me, the realm will soon learn of it, ravens are being sent as we speak. Nothing will be able to stop our union, please. Just come home with me."

She hoped she was not making a mistake, for she loved Jacaerys so much more than waiting around for her family to come between her happiness. She only hoped, this union, would unite the realm and stop any possible war that Helaena had spoken of. As she kissed Jacaerys in the shadows, the said sister smiled as she poked another thread into a gown to continue the embroidery.

"From the blood of red and green, the pain will end as the union will bring peace once again."

[hungharrington]

Your last blurb has me thinking of Steve and soft early relationship smut where it’s still fairly new and exciting and he’s just so sweet and wants to be close to you 💔💔

this is basically the premise of a little less conversation BUT it’s also such a good prompt anyways that i wanna write something goofy n domestic hehe <3 u put heartbreak emojis but i’m making this goopy sry! and actually it’s not even soft god i’m sorry MDNI this entire blog is 18+

Steve sinks into you in one slow thrust and makes a noise like he’s been stabbed, his forehead to your collarbone.

For one very long moment, he doesn’t move.

“You… you okay?” You ask, all breathy yourself. Your cunt pulses wildly, eager for him to start moving, for some friction— but you’re worried he’s maybe hurt himself somehow. “Steve?”

“I’m good,” He hisses, voice all tight like he is very much not at all good. It blends away as a husky tone threads through his voice. “God, sorry, you just feel—“

He gives a little rock of his hips, pulling out an inch and thrusting back in and a beautiful moan pulls from his lips. He does it again, pulling out a little further and pushing himself back in to your wet, inviting cunt.

He groans again, “Oh my god, I like you so much.”

You startle a laugh, your arms around his neck sliding down so you can pull his head up a bit. Steve’s flushed and looking sheepish by the time you get him face to face. His hips haven’t stopped moving, still small, perfect thrusts in and out, driving you mad.

“Sorry,” He says again, half panting. “Not the best thing to say the first time we fuck but,” He huffs, a throaty moan slipping out in the middle of the sentence. “It’s true.”

You’re beginning to pant too, all your inhales sounding gaspy and high. Your thighs spread more instinctively, pulling them further back to your chest, letting him get in deeper.

“N-No, it’s good,” You say, smiling a bit as he focuses on your face, his lips parted and pupils blown wide. “I really like you too.”

Your words inspire another moan, particularly loud, and his hips rut into you with more fervor, a soft lewd squelching noise beginning to fill the bedroom. Steve moans shakily, peppering sloppy kisses up the side of your neck.

One hand shifts on your hip, sliding up to press your leg further out and unexpectedly, and there’s an audible pop of a joint cracking. Steve stills instantly, still inside you, as he stares down at your hip.

“Oh my god—”

“No, no, it’s fine!” You hastily interrupt, knowing what he’s thinking. You tug his gaze over to you and away from your leg, seeing the smidge of panic in his eyes. “It just cracks sometimes, you couldn’t know that, it’s fine, it didn’t hurt.”

Steve deflates rapidly, giving a relieved chuckle against your chest where he buries his face. When he speaks, his words are all muffled, “I thought I broke your hip.”

You can’t help it, you laugh a bit at that— imagining his panic at the thought. For the third time, you urge his face up and out of hiding, leaning up to nuzzle against his face.

“Quickest way to end a relationship ever,” He jokes, but you can hear the genuine worry beneath his humour.

“No, no, I’m sorry I should’ve told you,” You murmur tenderly, dropping little kisses along his cheeks and nose. His face blazes hot beneath your ardent affection. “But hey, we’re figuring it out, aren’t we? That’s part of the fun, yeah?”

You use your ankles, crossed over his tailbone, to press him into you and Steve gets the message quickly, starting up his gentle thrusts again with a grunt. The soft noises of sex resume, mixed with your combined low moans. The rhythm from before is easy to slip back into. Your cunt throbs hotly, pleasure starting to drool through your stomach.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes heavily, watching your face closely. “Part of the fun. Fuck, you’re so pretty.”

He says it so sincerely that it makes you gasp, clenching around him and eyes screwing closed for a moment. A low whine crawls out your throat.

“God, fuck you for saying that,” You say, with no heat at all. You can’t open your eyes just yet, you’ll combust if you see how handsome he looks right now.

“Yeah?” Steve huffs, sounding a little smug. Your cunt gushes at the sound of his voice. “Oh, you’re right. Figuring this stuff out is the fun part.”

You whine as he fucks in a little harder, the angle just right to have your gut twisting up in pleasure. Your breath is ragged and you finally open your eyes again, swallowing back another sound at the sight of Steve. Messy haired, pink cheeks, reddened lips. He looks hotter than you’ve ever seen him.

“Shut up and hold my hand,” You say— because two can play that game. It works a charm. You can feel the stutter in his hips, see the ripple on his face, hear the whimper in his throat.

Steve keens, tucking his face down into your neck again. His hand searches the sheets til it finds yours, fingers intertwining before he presses your linked hands into the mattress and ruts into your snug cunt harder and faster, deeper.

“F-Fuck,” He stammers, a moan lilting the word. “I like you so much.”

You can’t even laugh this time round because your mind is starting to melt a little at the edges— but it makes the pleasure all that much better, knowing he means it.

[luveline]

Jade omg i love coworker james so much!! I was hoping i could request them taking the elevator up to their office together and it breaking down and them being stuck together!! Super cliche but i think it could be really cute and fun and that you’d write it so well!

You decide today is the day you stop pretending to forget something in your car. James has been nice lately. He does still hide your mug everyday, and he acts like an idiot at your desks. Just yesterday he made a parachute for one of his little figurines and made it land in your lunch. But he keeps saving you when you’re in trouble, and he might think he has to do it but it’s not true. 

If something goes wrong, James is the one who helps you out. Maybe it’s proximity, but maybe he’s just not the jerk you pegged him to be. 

So you’re being brave. You get out of your car, to James’ surprise, and you give him a teeny tiny smile. “Morning,” you say, making your way to the office steps, and following closely behind him. 

“Morning,” he says, looking back. He holds open the door for you without further comment. 

You walk in through the building’s lobby and past the main receptionist to the twin elevators. There’s a downstairs to the building, the lab, where the company conducts their water safety testing, and an upstairs where you and James and your colleagues work. He hits the elevator button on the right, you both wait for it to come down. 

“Did you see about that movie?” you ask. 

“I did!” He laughs at himself generously. “You’ll have to be more specific, I’m afraid.” 

“Crazy, if you gave me like, two more seconds before you interrupted, I would’ve specified.” You catch yourself scowling and soften your expression. “You know, the movie you told me about with the aliens that can hear you from ten miles away.” 

“Oh. What was I supposed to see about it?” 

You should’ve waited in the car. The elevator descends and the doors open. James waits for you to go in first before he follows, and you let him click your floor number as you lean against the mirror. 

You elect to wait in silence as the elevator chugs up, and up, and.

It stops short with a horrible sharp sound you’ve never heard it make. 

James looks at you, then the control panel. The doors don’t open. “That’s fucked,” he says hotly. 

“We stopped too early, right?” 

“No, no way.” He clicks the open door button, waiting approximately half a second before he starts to spam it. 

“Wait, what if you mess it up?” 

“Mess it up? It’s stuck.” 

You glare at him. “It’s not stuck.” 

“It’s stuck.” James slams his hand into the emergency button and waits with a frown for it to ring. “Hello?” he asks. 

“James, it’s still ringing.” 

“I’m glad this is funny to you,” he says. 

You hide your smile. You’d been unnerved by the sound, sure, but the elevator isn’t creaking or whining, it’s just stopped. There’s an inkling of worry growing in your chest. You’re perhaps a smidge too tired to panic. It’s barely 8AM. 

And James’ reaction is wildly comical. He glares at the control panel and rings the emergency button again, and again. Nobody answers. After a few long seconds of this, the control panel goes dark, backlit numbers fading. 

The overhead light blinks out. 

It’s quite dark without it. 

“What the fuck?” James asks. Surprisingly, he sounds less panicked than before. “The electrics gone. A power cut?” 

“It’s really dark,” you say unhelpfully. 

“If only I had one of my darling Smiskis to light up the lift.” James takes his phone from his pocket and turns on the torch, your eyes aching but then thankful for the added illumination. You can see his face again, the tug of a brow too handsome to be meant for grumpiness, and the confused pout of his lips. He has a lovely face, with sweet eyes, dark brown hair framing it, and the aura around him when he’s smiling is lovely too.  He’s a little less lovely when he frowns, but not by much. “I’m gonna shout,” he warns you. 

You and James spend that first half an hour believing the lift to be a short problem. Then another half an hour on the phone to Remus and then your boss, who assures you both that the maintenance team will fix it within the hour. “Within the hour?” James says to you where you’ve sat cross-legged on the floor. “Within the hour? How long do they think we’ve been in here?” 

“Maybe we can call the fire brigade to come and save us?” you suggest quietly. You and James are in very close quarters. His shouting has hurt your head. 

“They might have to. Why does nobody know what’s wrong with the lift? Are they really that complicated?”

James sits down beside you dejectedly. The lift is snug, but there’s room for him to sit further away that he doesn’t use. 

“You okay?” you ask. 

“Fine.” 

You open your bag in your lap and unveil your thermos. It comes with a cup as the lip. “Do you want some hot chocolate?” 

James tips his head back against the wall. “Yes,” he says, “okay. You never finished telling me about the alien movie anyways. What’s the news?” 

You smother a smile. “I’m not telling you. You should’ve listened to me the first time.” 

For some reason, you don’t argue once in the two hours you spend stuck. Not after the initial bickering. You drink your hot chocolate and you end up sitting together watching the trailer for the movie on your phone, and neither of you move away after. That is, until the elevator flicks back on and the doors are being pried open —you spring apart, caught red handed enjoying each other's company. 

[unsolvedjarin]

COMPLICATED — prologue

pairing: (fernando alonso x driver!reader) (grid x platonic!reader) — mostly older!grid

summary: you and fernando were known to be the biggest rivals on and off track back in 2012. that rivalry even crossed the line to pure hatred many years ago. but how did that hatred turn you two into the loving iconic couple of f1 you are today?

note: i’ve been dying to write this for AGES. it’s the fic that’s the reason i made this blog. keep in mind however this is just the prologue, so i’m simply setting up the story for where i want it to go. after this mostly social media chapter it gets plot heavy. anyways i hope you enjoy this!!!

INSTAGRAM

liked by danielricciardo, lewishamilton, and 528,293 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial, aussiegrit, jensonbutton, sebastianvettel, lewishamilton

yourusername beach day with my boys! had so much fun pretending to know what i’m doing while surfing (do NOT trust mark when he says he’ll teach you how to surf. he’s horrible.)

view comments

aussiegrit you falling off the board 272872 times was of your own accord, don’t blame the teacher!

jensonbutton mate you fell off your OWN board 272872 times, i think when it gets to that it’s the teacher’s fault

yourusername get his ass again for me jense

fernandoalo_oficial looking great amor! 🥰

yourusername thanks to my amazing photographer 🫶

jensonbutton what about the pictures i took?

yourusername they were definitely pictures!

fernandoalo_oficial posted a new story

—2012

This was not Fernando Alonso’s year. Losing the World Championship by 3 points was not good on his ego nor on his morale, yet here he was.

Everyone was celebrating Sebastian now for having won his 3rd World Championship– but Fernando was angry. Not at Sebastian, but at you. 

You who had gotten first place. 

You who was third in the Drivers Championship and had no chance to pass Fernando on the standings, yet still overtook him during the last two laps. You couldn’t even let him win.

“Good race Nando,” he heard a voice in front of him say. He paid no attention to it.

Getting no reply from him, you scoff and put down your water bottle. “I know you’re mad at me for getting first, but at least have some sportsmanship.”

That gets him to look up and take a proper look at you, post race sweat and your race suit dangling at your hips. He thinks you glow look terrible in this light. Because he was sat on some stairs, you were standing over him, hands on hips with a slightly smug look on your face. 

“Don’t be a sore loser. It’s unbecoming.”

“I could have won the championship. I was three points away— three, and you could not even let me have that?” He gestures wildly. “I know you dislike me, but stealing my championship is far and beyond, L/N.”

He stands up, purposely hitting your shoulder as he walks past you. 

Oh the bastard. He wanted to throw out accusations? Fine. 

“Oh don’t be such a hypocrite. I stole your championship? What good would that even do me? I’m third in the standings, there was no way I was going to catch up to you,” you retort. Fernando was still facing away from you, but frozen on the spot. You knew he was listening. “I went faster because my contract with Mercedes expires this year. I’m losing my fucking seat, I need to prove to other teams I’m worth it. It’s bad enough you’re constantly fucking badmouthing my character to the press, and now you question my integrity as a driver? Honestly, Alonso, grow the fuck up. Not everything is about you.”

A silence befalls the room. Fernando doesn’t speak or do anything, and the seconds waiting for a response feels like minutes. He’s facing you at this point, speechless in his Ferrari race suit that looks fucking great on him. Too bad he’s a shitty person.

You sigh, exhausted. “Nothing?” 

He shakes his head and looks down. Of course. He’s got nothing to say. Resigning, this time you’re the one to walk past him and towards the door behind him. He tries to look at everything else in the room that wasn’t you, the walls, the stairs, the tables, but that wasn’t enough to avoid your exasperated look that he could see through his peripheral vision.

He should’ve done something, anything. Stop you from walking away, tell you he’s sorry, just something. But he didn’t do anything. That was his first mistake.

One of many.

—PRESENT

MAHK WEBBAH

once again asking if we can change the group name

JENSE

it’s correct though? But while we’re on the topic of the groupchat can we change the photo

YOURNAME

no

its beautiful whats wrong with you

JENSE

okay then we’re not changing the group name

MAHK WEBBAH has left world champs + mark

YOURNAME

give him a few minutes he’s having a temper tantrum because skysports labelled his name as “Sebastian Vettel’s former teammate”

SEBBY

IJBOL

NANDO

??????

JENSE

??????????

YOURNAME

where the fuck did you learn that

AUTHORS NOTE: i know some of these are ooc but i had too much fun making the fake tweets 😵‍💫 this is quite a plot heavy fic from here on out, so put on your reading glasses!

[starmatzz]

𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐰/𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠

bf!wooyoung x gf!reader | bit of pray/hunter kink

author's note: hii! thank you so much for all the notes and support! although it's not entirely my cup of coffee to write "x reader" stuff, i see that you guys like it, which motivates me :)

“Alright, you go hide, and I’ll count,” Wooyoung said with a mischievous smirk.

It was a lazy Saturday, the kind of day spent either engrossed in your own hobbies or tangled up together on the couch watching movies.

That is, until Wooyoung came up with the bright idea to play hide and seek. At first, you rolled your eyes, playfully dismissing him, but how could you say no to your adorable boyfriend?

As soon as Wooyoung closed his eyes and started counting, you glanced around the apartment, determined to find the perfect hiding spot. There was no way you were going to let him win.

You quickly made your way to your shared bedroom, slipping inside the closet and crouching down. Carefully, you pulled the door almost shut, leaving a small gap just big enough for you to peek through. Your heart raced with excitement as you tried to steady your breathing, determined to stay hidden.

“Twenty eight..twenty nine..thirty! I’m coming!” Wooyoung’s voice rang out, teasing and full of excitement.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, finding the whole situation amusing. It was silly, but it was fun—exactly the kind of thing that made being with Wooyoung so special.

However, as you listened to his footsteps echo through the apartment, your heart began to beat faster. Each step felt closer, and the anticipation of being found was starting to get to you. You bit your lip, trying to keep completely silent, but you could already feel the tension building.

“Where are you? Come out~” Wooyoung’s playful, sing-song voice echoed through the apartment, sending a wave of butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

His tone was teasing, almost mysterious, and you could tell he was thoroughly enjoying himself. The adrenaline coursed through your veins as his footsteps grew louder, closer. It felt like your hiding spot was suddenly far too obvious, but you stayed completely still, determined to outlast him.

“My sweet doll… come out, I won’t bite~,” Wooyoung called out, his voice dripping with playful mischief.

Through the narrow gap in the closet door, you caught a glimpse of the bedroom door swinging open, reflected perfectly in the mirror across from you. Your breath hitched as you watched his figure step into the room.

“…Maybe,” he added with a sly chuckle, his footsteps slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. He moved with a mix of confidence and playfulness, scanning the room as if savoring the chase. You pressed yourself further into the shadows, your pulse racing as you tried to keep perfectly still.

You clamped a hand over your mouth, desperately trying to steady your breathing as your heart pounded wildly in your chest. Suddenly, the thought of him finding you sent a nervous thrill through your body—you didn’t want to be caught. Not yet.

The sound of Wooyoung whistling filled the room, a soft, haunting tune that only heightened the tension. It was as if he was toying with you, drawing out the suspense on purpose. His movements and the teasing sound of his whistle made it feel like he was closing in, and every second felt like an eternity.

Suddenly, Wooyoung’s whistling stopped, and the silence that followed felt deafening. You froze, your heart skipping a beat as you felt his gaze land on the closet—reflected in the mirror.

Your eyes widened in panic, watching as he turned to face the closet. A sly smirk tugged at his lips as he took slow steps toward it, like he already knew exactly where you were.

Your breath caught in your throat, every nerve in your body on edge as the gap in the door grew darker with each step he took.

You squeezed your eyes shut, as if somehow that would make you invisible, shielding you from his inevitable discovery.

The silence was oppressive, stretching out endlessly as if time itself had stopped. You couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore, and the absence of sound was almost worse than hearing him approach.

All that filled the void was the frantic pounding of your own heartbeat, so loud in your ears that you were certain he could hear it too.

You were so lost in the stillness, so focused on calming your racing heartbeat, that you didn’t even notice the closet door creak open.

When you finally opened your eyes, there he was—Wooyoung standing in front of you with that signature smirk, his eyes gleaming with triumph.

“Found you, doll~,” he purred, his tone dripping with playful satisfaction.

Wooyoung’s hand gently gripped your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. His eyes sparkled with mischief, his smirk only widening as he took in your expression.

“What am I gonna do with you now, hm?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, sending a shiver down your spine. His presence felt overwhelming, and you couldn’t help but feel a little breathless under the weight of his gaze.

You swallowed hard, the tension between you two thick in the air. Wooyoung leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“Guess you’ll find out soon enough.” 

[temilyrights]

just go with it

melissa schemmenti x fem!reader

summary: reader runs into an old frenemy at the bar and enlists melissa to play her date. hidden feelings are revealed. inspired by the movie just go with it.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: alcohol (beer), swearing, old bully.

a/n: this was so much fun to write! i hope you enjoy <3 i think i included all the warnings but as always pls let me know if i missed anything! if u wanna be added to my taglist just lmk or fill out my form on my masterlist!

The night hadn’t exactly gone to plan, not that you were complaining. The Abbot family were supposed to be celebrating reaching the end of another quarter, even going as far as to select a bar up to Ava’s standards with extravagant cocktails and comfortable booths (but still with a generic enough dart board that Melissa would turn up). Ava had shoot down your usual place saying, “Girl, I’ve got a reputation to uphold and even entering that place would lose me 1K on Instagram,”

However things had immediately started to splinter when Gregory and Janine failed to turn up, still very much in the honeymoon phase of their relationship. And then Barbara had ordered two cocktails which had immediately gone to her head and called Gerald to come and pick her up. Jacob got a text for Avi and ducked out apologetically, Mr Johnson disappeared somewhere, and then Ava declared she couldn’t be seen dead out in only a group of three so she ditched, which meant less than two hours into the night only you and Melissa remained at the bar. 

You’d initially been irritated, having looked forward to a family night out all week. But when Melissa dragged you to the dart board saying “We don’t need ‘em.”, her hand warm in yours and her smile bright. You’d suddenly forgotten every thought you’d ever had.

“Another bullseye for me!” Melissa smirks victorious, dancing as she turns around to face you. “I think that means ya owe me a drink, hon.” 

You roll your eyes, but can’t bring yourself to care that deeply at the sight of the redheads joy. She seems to be having a great time, despite everyone leaving. And you’re determined to soak up every moment of this additional out-of-school Melissa time until she decides to call it a night. 

It feels like a blessing, and the sight of her in a strappy leopard print top with enough cleavage to cause your brain to short circuit when she‘d first arrived definitely didn’t hurt. She looked beautiful with her red curls down past her neck, and her brown leather jacket and red high heels on. Any day now you were gonna get this raging crush under control and not look at Melissa Schemmenti and see the sun, any day… 

…just not today if your traitorous heart had any say. 

“Another of the same?” You ask, nodding towards her beer with a grin on your lips. 

“You betcha.” She shimmies closer to you, her teeth biting into her lip. “And when youse get back we’ll have another game. If you can take the heat.” 

Your face heats up and you force out a laugh to cover up how wildly attractive you find her. You push yourself off the barstool and side step her. “Uh yeah, another game sounds good. I’ll be right back.” You step back, giving her a slightly too tight smile before you run away to the bar. 

So chill Y/N. Wow, excellent game. If she didn’t want you before, I bet she does now.

You groan as you approach the bar, resisting every bone in your body that wants you to slam your head very hard against the bartop to hopefully knock some sense into yourself because that was just plain embarrassing. Instead, you settle on waving down the bartender and ordering two yuengling's. 

They make quick work of your order and you pay and mutter a polite, “Thanks,” before turning away with your drinks, ready to head back to Melissa. Determined to not make a complete fool of yourself this evening. 

“Y/N L/N!” A shrill voice calls and your blood runs cold, “Oh my god, is that really you?” 

Your eyes fall close as you blow out a breath and send a hail mary that maybe, just maybe, that voice won’t be connected to the woman you believe it to be. 

Of course, life doesn’t work like that and when you open your eyes you come face to face with your old college ‘friend’. If a friend meant someone who constantly put you down and had to be better than you at all times. Suddenly the last day of college doesn’t seem long enough ago, god you could’ve gone the rest of your life without seeing this woman and that still wouldn’t have made up for the torment of the three years of friendship with her. 

“Alisha, Hi.” You grimace. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

“I know!” She cackles, “I’d never expect you to be somewhere this close to classy. I remember the dives you loved in college.”

Your smile tightens and you force a humourless laugh. “Well, great to see you Alisha, but I really should be getting back to-”

“No, no, no, come on we must catch up!” She interrupts. She shakes her hair performatively and presents her hand, showing off an obnoxious diamond, “I, of course, got married. My husband is here actually and you must meet him.”

“Congrats, but I really should be getting back to my-” 

“I’m sure your friend won’t mind.” Alisha waves a hand. 

She grabs the hand not holding the two bottles of beer, her face etched with pity. “I noticed you don’t have a wedding band. It’s okay, your time will come.”

You try to shake your hand free, but Alisha’s grip tightens. “Seriously, Y/N, not everyone can be as lucky as-”

“Hey hon, everythin’ alright?” Melissa interrupts, an obvious edge to her voice. Her hand perches on the small of your back as she gives Alisha a once over, and despite the other woman being four inches taller than her, you know Melissa could take her effortlessly. 

Alisha’s eyes widen before melting into a smirk as she extends her hand, “Alisha, Y/N’s closest friend from college.” 

Melissa looks at you before looking back at Alisha and scoffing, “Right.” 

Alisha drops her hand, but doesn’t look disturbed, in fact she looks more excited than you’ve ever seen her, if you exclude that one house party she threw where she got the entire football team to attend and ended up sleeping with the quarterback. 

More than slightly disturbed, you push the beer in Melissa’s direction, “Here, sorry.”

“Thanks, hon.” She accepts the drink, her fingers brushing yours as she does. 

You watch Alisha hungrily eat up the action, and you know what’s gonna happen next before she even opens her mouth. “So, you’re Y/N’s girlfriend?”  

The redhead’s eyes widen, her drink pausing on its way to her mouth. And before she can reject it, and Alisha’s face grows even more victorious in your pathetic aloneness, you jump in and answer. 

“Fiancée, actually.” 

You should be awarded an Emmy for the way you keep your face straight and don’t cringe as both Melissa and Alisha swing around to face you. 

“I left my ring at home,” You roll your eyes. “She only popped the question recently. Haven’t quite got used to wearing it yet.” 

“Really?” Alisha questions, eyes narrowing. “Well now you must join my husband and I for drinks. We can toast to the newlyweds and newly-engaged.” 

She grabs your hand, pulling you away before you can protest again. You look back at Melissa, silently begging for help, but she just watches you with an arched brow and smirk before she takes a long sip from her beer and saunters after you.

Alisha doesn’t release her grip until you reach the booth in the corner of the bar. Her husband, an even taller man, presumably quite handsome if you’re into that sort of thing - but in your opinion quite boring looking - sits scrolling on his phone and nursing what looks like a whiskey sour. 

“Honey, I found some friends.” She says, sitting down beside her husband. “This is my best friend from college Y/N, and her fiancée…oh,” Alisha tips her head, smiling widely “In all that excitement I didn’t get your name.” 

Melissa doesn’t respond, instead signalling you to slide in the booth first so she can be on the end. 

“It’s Melissa,” You respond, ignoring the redhead’s dark look for sharing her personal information. 

“Traitor,” She mumbles quietly into your ear, her breath hot. 

You roll your eyes, even as you struggle to breath properly. If she’d saved you when she had the chance you wouldn’t be in this situation. 

“What a lovely name,” Alisha gushes, and you don’t need to turn to see Melissa’s glare.

Alisha drops her head to her husband's shoulder, who wraps his arm around her back with a boy-ish grin, “And this is my husband, Victor.” 

“Ladies, nice to meet you.” 

You force a smile and take a long sip from your beer. 

“I was just saying to Y/N how funny it is running into her.” Alisha laughs, “We’re only in Philadelphia because the jet needed to refuel. It was not part of our plan,” She rolls her eyes, “Honestly, can you imagine living here?” 

“What’s wrong with Philly?” Melissa challenges, eyes narrowing

“I’m just saying it wouldn’t be my first choice.” She waves her hand, like she hasn’t said anything offensive. “Victor and I live in California, but we’re heading to Paris because this one’s talking at a convention for dentists.” 

“Wow, impressive.” You nod politely.

“You ended up here?” She asks, pity evident in her tone. 

“I chose here. I love Philly. I’ve got an amazing teaching job and an amazing group of friends. It’s a really good community.” You say seriously. There were some things Alisha could make you feel insecure about, but Philly was never going to be one of them. You were happy with your life. 

“And your fiancée, right?” She challenges, “How long have you been together?” 

Melissa’s arm wraps around your waist and she tugs you tightly into her side. You try not to let the surprise at the action show on your face. 

“Two years. Known each other for three through. She swooped in and saved me when the kids were drivin’ me mad and kinda hasn’t stopped since.” 

Your heart flutters as you stare at Melissa from beneath your lashes, warmth settling in your chest. You know the exact moment she’s talking about, it’s the first time you properly met, about a month into teaching at Abbott. You’d heard the commotion coming from her classroom while your first-graders were in music class, and had popped your head next door - just to check - and found a clearly stressed out redhead trying to control a large class of second and third graders. 

You’d made your way in, with a calm “How can I help?”. Melissa had just thrusted worksheets at you and pointed towards the third-graders. From then on you popped in to help whenever you had a free lesson, and if it meant staying later to catch up on lesson planning you decided it was worth it, especially as it led to one of your favourite friendships.

“You have kids?” Victor asks. “I love kids.” 

“No, teacher. We work together.” 

“Oh, that makes sense. Y/N was never one to have much of a social life outside of her work.” Alisha rolls her eyes, “Of course she’d have to meet her partner at her place of work too. She never had much luck when it came to dating, always so alone.” She juts out her bottom lip patronisingly. 

“I dated.” You defend, “I just happened to put my studies first, which was the whole point of being at college.” 

Alisha nods and takes a sip from her drink. Your eyes narrow at her. You don’t realise your hand has tightened into a fist until Melissa pulls it into her lap and begins gently caressing your knuckles, slowly coaxing it open again. 

Victor’s phone rings, an obnoxious beeping sound that shocks you enough that your hand pulls away from Melissa’s. You miss the touch instantly, wanting to reach back but knowing you shouldn’t. 

“Oh sorry girls, I should take this.” 

“He gets lots of important calls.” Alisha supplies proudly, as she slides out of the booth to let her husband out. Melissa lifts her brows, shooting you a look of disbelief and you struggle not to laugh.

They stand together beside the table. Victor drops his forehead to Alisha’s and inhales deeply. “Your beauty, your drive, your wit.” He breathes dramatically.

Alisha hums, “Your intelligence, your thirst, your strength.” 

Their nose’s rub together, and you swear your soul leaves your body as you watch them open mouthed in disbelief. You turn to Melissa whose face is screwed up in outright disgust. 

Alisha sits back down, a content smile on her face. “It’s something we do whenever the other person leaves. Say what we love most about each other.” 

“You really ain’t from Philly, huh?” Melissa laughs, taking a long sip from her beer. 

“You guys should try it.” 

“I ain’t doing-” 

“I don’t think-” Melissa and you both start to say at the same time.

“Not everyone can do it.” Alisha waves. 

Your eyes narrow and Melissa puts down her beer. 

“You know what, we’ll do it now.” You say, determined. 

Melissa smirks, eyes bright with challenge as she looks between you and Alisha. “Sure thing, hon.” 

“Okay, just look into each other’s eyes and say three things you love most about each other.”

You turn to face Melissa, knee’s brushing against hers. You blow out a breath, suddenly nervous looking at her this closely. Her green eyes hold your gaze, a reassuring smile on her face and it helps you steel yourself. 

“Okay. Uh, I love how much you care about the kids.” You start, easy, honest, tame. “You do so much for them, more than anyone even realises. But they love you so much. You’re a phenomenal teacher. You’ve got such a beautiful heart, even if you do try to keep it hidden.”

Melissa listens to you with soft eyes, a wet chuckle breaking from her lips.

“It’s not even just the kids. The things you do for Barbara, Janine, Me. You are extraordinary. I see how much you care, I see your kindness.” The words flow from your lips, the truth that you should probably keep hidden. 

She scoffs, shaking her head, “I ain’t that soft.” 

“I love how safe you make me feel.” Your breath shakes as Melissa’s eyes widen. God too much, too honest, but maybe she’ll just think you’re selling the lie and won’t know just how true every word coming from your lips is.

“Whenever something happens you’re the person I want to find. And you just know how to make it better. Before you, I never needed someone else, but now I literally…I just, I don’t know, I gravitate towards you. When I’m with you I just know everything is going to be okay. I feel safe, like together we could take on anything.” 

“I wouldn’t let anythin’ happen to you.” She smiles gently. 

Your heart stutters, “And your smile, god that smile.” It makes you soar, you can’t breath as words spill from your lips, “I love it. I look forward to lunch everyday because I know I get to see that smile. Your smile starts my day, and everytime I get to see it I feel like I’m doing something right.” 

She stares at you and you clear your throat, breaking your gaze. “And that's three.”  

Melissa grabs your hands, her fingers stroking your knuckles, prompting your eyes to return back to hers. “My turn.” 

You nod silently, unable to speak as you watch the women in front of you. Heart pounding. 

“I love your company. No matter my mood, it’s good. You’re just nice to have around. Whether I’m cookin’ for you, we’re drinkin’, or we’re stressin’ out over work. It’s fun with you.” She shrugs with a shy smile.

You grin. God your heart can’t take this. It still pounds and you can’t differentiate between truth and lie. She sounds so honest, eyes so gentle and you desperately want to fall in and believe every single word leaving her lips. 

“You’re stupidly generous too and I love you for it, even if it makes me wanna hit ya sometimes.” 

She rolls her eyes and you both chuckle. 

“You say I have a good heart, but I watch the way you keep giving to everyone around you without expecting anythin’ in return. You’re always offering to cover a lesson or lunch shift, even though I know it means you’re staying at school later to catch up on lesson plans.” 

You shift, you really hadn’t thought she’d noticed. “It’s nothing really.” 

“It’s somethin’. You’re good. Like, actual good, and you don’t find that often.” 

Your eyes soften, tears threatening to pool as you itch to reach out and pull her in, kiss her. 

“And you know what else I love? Your eyes.” She nods, with a shining smile. “When they catch the light? Stunnin’. They are so expressive, always shining, sayin’ things even if you don’t.” 

You draw in a sharp breath, eyes locked with hers. Wondering maybe if-

“I won a competition for the most beautiful eyes.” Alisha’s piercing voice interrupts. You jolt away from Melissa, having entirely forgotten about the other women’s presence. 

“I’m pretty sure I’d still win if you entered. No offence, Y/N.” She laughs shrilly. 

You drain the last of your beer, your chest still tight and your bearings off. 

Melissa snaps. “Alright, I’m done. I dunno if your parents were too nice to you as a kid or didn’t tell you they loved you enough but either way I don’t care. You ain’t speaking to my girl like that anymore, especially if you think your ugly ass fake contacts in any way compare to her stunnin’ fuckin’ eyes.” 

Alisha’s face finally falls. 

“So goodbye, we’re leavin’. And you and your guy can get the hell out of Philly fast before I find someone to jack your dang car.” She grabs your hand, fingers entwined with yours and tugs you from the booth with her. 

You laugh, feeling lighter the further away you get from the gobsmacked women you left behind. Melissa weaves you between people and out the bar, not letting go of your hand until you're safely outside and the door has shut behind you. 

“That was…” You look at the redhead, shaking your head and grinning, your entire body buzzing. “God, I just…”

She chuckles, her hand landing on your waist. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” Her other hand digs into her back pocket pulling out her phone, “I’ll call a cab.” 

Your heart thunders. Your hand reaching for her chin bringing her face back to yours. She’s so close…. “You are extraordinary.” 

Her cheeks pink as she tries to shrug off your touch, “Y/N,”

“No.” You breathe, bringing her back to look at you. Your gaze falls to her red painted lips, your chest tightens. And you know you could let go, step back and you’d both pretend this moment had never happened, but you don’t want to. 

You want to lean in and kiss those pretty lips. Finally say fuck the point of no return. Because all the fears and risks that were keeping you from plunging in all seemed irrelevant when your body felt this alive. 

It’s like you’d finally woken you and you knew you didn’t want to go another day without kissing Melissa Schemmenti. 

You lean in. Melissa’s shaky breath expelling against your lips before she meets yours. Tentative at first, once, twice, three times, before her hand fists into your shirt and yours moves to her hair, and then a moan is pulled from her lips and your gone. Frantic and heated you devour each other. Her phone is roughly shoved into your back pocket so she can paw at your ass and then she’s walking you back into the wall. Her body is finally flush against yours and you gasp in delight as you drown in the sensation, unable to think clearly as you passionately kiss her.

When you finally separate, you’re both breathing heavily, foreheads resting against each other. Melissa’s lipstick is a mess, her lips swollen, and you think she’s never looked more beautiful. 

“Ya mess.” She tuts affectionately, breathing still broken as she reaches out to wipe her lipstick from your lips. 

“And who’s fault is that?” You chuckle, grinning like a fool. 

She rolls her eyes and you want to kiss the expression off her face. You lean in to do just that, but she steps back, her eyes shifting away from you. 

“Hon,” She shakes her head, finally wiping the lipstick off from around her own mouth. 

A pit lands in your stomach, panic coursing through your body. No. You’ve come this close. You weren’t losing her now. 

“You can’t tell me you don’t feel this too.” 

She looks at you, eyes soft and pained, “‘Nd you can’t want this.” 

“Did you not hear a word I said in there?” You ask incredulously. “God, Mel, all of that. Every single word. I meant that.” 

“You meant it?” She questions, unsure. 

You shrug, vulnerable, exposed. “Of course. How could I not? You’re the best person I've ever met.” 

She scoffs, wet, stumbling forward back into your arms. “Fuck you.” She murmurs and captures your lip. You expect it to be harsh and heated, but she’s so gentle and slow, her lips tenderly moving against yours like you’re something to be treasured and if she pushes too hard you might break. 

You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, caressing her cheek lovingly when you separate. She watches you in awe, eyes so gentle and you’ve never felt so content in your life. 

“I meant everythin’ too.” She confesses.

You grin and press a quick peck to her lips. “I had my suspicions.” 

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever. You wanna actually get out of ‘ere?” 

You laugh, “Yes, please.” 

“Leftovers and beers at mine?”

You hum in delight, not missing the way Melissa’s eyes darken, her eyes dropping to your lips. “That sounds perfect. And watch something on Netflix?” 

“Whatever you want, hon.” She responds, dragging her gaze away. “I’ll call a cab now.”

She takes a couple steps away, to make the call and you unashamedly watch her the entire time. Your eyes taking in her figure and lingering on her ass. Because, hey, who can blame a girl. 

It was Melissa goddamn Schemmenti. 

Your teeth pulling at your bottom lip, do nothing to suppress your grin.

I guess you really might have to thank everyone in Abbott for leaving tonight if this was the result. 

You weren’t quite a big enough person to thank Alisha. 

You would have gotten there without her.

Eventually.

taglist: @aburman03

[leaderpinhead]

Leona - The Whoopsie Wedding

Prompt: "Accidental" Marriage 6 months later, and I'm still trying to complete this prompt challenge. Otherwise known as "my excuse to write random LeonaxYuu stuff."

“Unca Leona!” 

Leona’s ear twitched in response to the high-pitched shriek. He made an abrupt about-face and lengthened his stride. The slap of sandals against the stone floor behind him made his ear continue its erratic fluttering. 

He had nearly made it to the end of the hall when Kifaji turned the corner in front of him. The old chamberlain’s satisfied grin made a muscle above his eye twitch to the same rhythm as his ear. “Ah, there you are Prince Leona. I was just looking for you. There is a dignitary—” 

The sandal slapping grew louder along with the insistent shrieking. “Unca Leona!” 

“—who wishes to meet you—” 

Leona twisted on his heel without hesitation. Cheka yelped when Leona snatched him out of the air mid-pounce. Throwing his nephew over his shoulder, Leona prowled down the hallway in the opposite direction of Kifaji. “Can’t play replacement for my brother right now. Busy.” 

The corner of his mouth twitched up into a smirk at the startled stutter that escaped Kifaji. “Prince Leona! This is a delicate business relation Crown Prince Falena has—!” 

Cheka giggled and wildly kicked his legs. Leona swallowed a growl and pinned the boy’s flailing legs beneath his forearm. “Were you not one of the people insisting I spend more time with my precious nephew? Falena will understand rescheduling the meeting. He rescheduled an entire assembly to attend a little play at his son’s daycare.” 

The tired sigh behind him was worth the sharp yank of his hair. He knew he couldn’t argue against Leona’s logic—his brother would be over the moon the moment snitched on him. Leona willingly spending time with his nephew? A new national holiday would be created just to celebrate the miracle. 

Checkmate. 

Leona couldn’t stop the new growl that rose after another yank on his hair. He flipped Cheka off his shoulder to sit on his forearm. Cheka—the oblivious brat that he was—squeezed his face between tiny hands and grinned. “Unca Leona! Unca Leona!” 

“What?” Leona impatiently snapped. He shifted Cheka to his sit on his other arm in hopes the brat would release him. It was a temporary solution because Cheka’s sticky fingers were like magnets to his face. “Stop shouting. You have my attention.” 

Cheka hummed. One sandaled foot kicked Leona in the ribs. The lion mask—a smaller version of the one Leona wore with his liongarb—slipped down Cheka’s forehead. “I been lookin’ everywhere for you! Timmy says you ran off to nap, and I says nu uh ‘cause yous a big boy, and big boys don’t take naps!” 

Timmy was as a big a brat as Cheka was. The amount of times Leona suffered through listening to Cheka complain about his friend disagreeing with him were too many for Leona to count even if he cared to keep track. Leona couldn’t say that without Cheka getting all weepy for his friend though. Sade would give him a death glare until he finally went back to Night Raven College if she found out he made Cheka all weepy when he should have been having fun with his bratty friends during the Cloudcalling Festival. 

He also wasn’t about to admit one of those bratty friends had been right. 

“What do you want?” Leona asked with a heavy sigh. Strategically speaking, dealing with Cheka was the lesser of two hassles. Unlike a bunch of sweat-smelling, greedy businessmen, Leona could slip away once Cheka’s extremely tiny attention span waned. He just had to find the right beetle to distract the brat. “I have other things I have to do before returning to school.” 

Cheka pouted. His sticky fingers found the strands of beads hanging from the lion mask on Leona’s head. “You gotta go back? But why?” 

“I’m only here for the festival,” Leona said with the thin patience of already repeating the same sentence several times. “What do you want?” 

The question distracted Cheka from pouting over Leona’s inevitable departure. Cheka pulled on the strand of beads and pointed to one of the doorways ahead of them. “We needs you for a very big thing!” 

Leona heavily sighed. The last thing he wanted was to waste his time with Cheka’s bratty friends. He wasn’t a kid-person no matter what Sade tried to say. He barely had the patience for Falena, the biggest kid he knew. Fortunately, kids were easily distractible. 

Kalim’s and Lilia’s happy greetings when he turned into the open doorframe made that muscle above his eye twitch again. Grim snickered when the only thing preventing Cheka from flipping over Leona’s forearm in excitement was his grip on the bead strand. “Look what the lion cub dragged in.” 

Lilia giggled like the deranged imp he was. The skinny little boy sitting next to him joined his cackling, a pair of small round dark ears flicking from a mop of brownish-red hair. “He certainly does not disappoint! What an excellent sniffer you have!” 

Kalim’s laugh sounded less deranged and more ignorantly happy. The chubbier little boy sitting next to him had a dopey type of smile on his face. “I’ll say! It didn’t even take him five minutes. I can’t even find Jamil that quick!” 

Cheka emitted a happy grumbly noise at the praise. Leona whipped his forearm out from beneath Cheka, making his nephew squawk in surprise, before grabbing him under the armpits. His eyes cut across the room to where Yuu sat on a floor mat with the last of Cheka’s friends, another lion cub dressed in a liongarb costume with strands of beads woven through her braided blonde hair. Neither of them looked up from the pile of beads on the ground in front of them. The lion cub patiently showed Yuu how to string the beads, continuously measuring the length of the strand around Yuu’s wrist. Yuu nodded with an air of unwavering focus. 

Leona ignored the two and turned an unimpressed glower at the others. He flicked his tail at them. “Why am I not surprised none of you stayed at the hotel like I told you to.” 

Kalim laughed, predictably missing the sarcasm in Leona’s voice. “Kifaji came by my suite with an invitation from Cheka after we came back! Jamil was busy packing up everything, so I accepted.” 

“It would be incredibly rude to reject an invitation from nobility,” Lilia added. Leona caught the bright glint in Lilia’s eyes. “As a representative from Briar Valley, I would hate to taint any diplomatic alliances. Malleus would be highly displeased if he didn’t receive future invitations to visit.” 

Leona’s upper lip curled slightly over his teeth. “Like I’d invite the lizard anywhere.” 

That glint became brighter. “Oh ho! Whoever said it would be an invitation from you?” 

Leona’s eyes narrowed at the challenge. If he hadn’t needed Lilia for the Bead Brawl... 

A light tug on his pants made Leona drop Cheka. Cheka landed on the other two boys, who had gathered around Leona’s knees. They squealed and wiggled in a mound of limbs Leona found disturbingly...squishy. Even Leona couldn’t contort into the pretzel positions they did. 

Leona decided to ignore all of them and directed his next question to Yuu. “Did the beauty queen and Jack miss the invitation?” 

Yuu’s eyes barely flicked in his direction, her focus on her current task of stringing beads. “Vil wanted to go soak in the Ivory Springs again before we left. He said it was the least he was owed after the injury he took for you in the Bead Brawl. Jack went with him since he’s been feeling better. He still wanted to see parts of the city even if the festival has kinda died down after the rain.” Yuu glanced up long enough to meet Leona’s gaze. “I made him take three bottles of water with him.” 

Leona grunted. “It’s not my problem if he has another heatstroke. He’s aware of the risks now.” 

Cheka jumping on his leg was the perfect excuse to dismiss Yuu’s unconvinced hum. Leona stiffened when Cheka’s friends grabbed him without hesitation. Was that snot dripping out of the chubbier one’s nose? 

“Unca Leona! Unca Leona!” Cheka demanded. “You gotta play with me!” 

Leona bristled at the command. Kalim’s cheery laugh was the only thing preventing him from punting Cheka and his friends across the room. “Cheka told us only you could play the role in the game he wants to play because it’s one of the most important roles. He wouldn’t even let Vil fill in before he left!” 

“’Cause only Unca Leona can do it!” Cheka insisted. He twisted away from Leona and ran across the room, taking his friends with him. “Unca Leona is leader of the Sunset Warriors! Timmy! Pupa! Come stand here!” 

Leona ignored Cheka haughtily commanding his friends in favor of imagining Vil’s reaction to Cheka’s logic. He almost wished he had been there to see the offended huffing. Leona could imagine that was why Vil had chosen another trip to the Ivory Springs as opposed to an opportunity of running into the rest of Leona’s family at the palace. 

A tug on his fingers made Leona glance down at the little girl. She stared up at him with narrowed blue eyes. Leona narrowed his eyes back down at her. She barely stood taller than his knee, yet she had already mastered the same judgmental stare Sade gave him when he skipped “important” family activities. 

Her glare never wavering, she held out one of the beaded bracelets she and Yuu made. “Take this” 

Leona’s fingers twitched, but he didn’t immediately obey her command. “Why should I?” 

A jab to the back of his ribs made him turn his glower on Yuu. She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. “She’s not asking you to eat a cactus. You can accept a gift without pretending you’re offended.” 

“A gift?” Leona questioned. The girl tugged on his fingers again, and he fought the urge to snatch his hand from her grasp. "Being told to accept something doesn’t sound like a gift.” 

“It’s not a gift,” the girl confirmed. She yanked on one finger hard enough for Leona to feel the hollow pop of a joint. Her tail angrily swished behind her when he conveyed his displeasure with a muted growl. “You gotta take it to give to her.” 

Leona frowned. He shot Yuu a suspicious glare, but she only shrugged. She held up the bracelet she made and gave it a little shake. “Don’t look at me. I’ve got my bracelet.” 

The little lioness emitted an annoyed huff. “That’s not yours either! Come on. Cheka! We’re ready.” 

Cheka jumped at the sudden shout. He ran back across the room to grab a patterned throw blanket draped over a bench. He climbed up on the bench and threw his shoulders back. Timmy and Pupa ran over to stand on the right side of the bench. Without receiving any instructions, Kalim, Lilia, and Grim moved to stand on the opposite side. Kalim grinned widely at Leona while Lilia softly snickered into his hand. 

Grim put his paws on his hips. “Let’s get this thing over with. I wanna go grab some more food from the festival stalls before they pack everything up!” 

Cheka solemnly nodded at the girl. “Bring Unca Leona and Ms. Yuu to me, Zahara.” 

Zahara slipped between them to grasp their hands, dragging them forward behind her. Leona loudly sighed and questioned his earlier decision to avoid Kifaji. There was no escaping Cheka with the others here. Especially the prefect, who jabbed his ribs again when he when he didn’t budge from Zahara’s tugging. “Just play along.” 

It was Leona’s turn to roll his eyes towards the ceiling. He stood his ground for about half a second—finding the little girl’s impatient grunting to be amusing—before another jab forced him to “play along.” By the time Zahara presented them to Cheka, his nephew had already become distracted with adjusting the throw blanket over him like a robe. A polite cough from Lilia snapped Cheka’s attention back to them. “Oh, right! Estimated peoples! We came here today to, uh, join the macaronis!” 

“Macaronis?” Timmy—or Pupa, Leona honestly didn’t know which of Cheka’s friends was which, but it was the scrawny looking one—repeated. His head bobbed around in a way that reminded Leona of a meerkat peeking out of his tunnel. “What does macaronis gotta do with anything?” 

“It sounds tasty,” Pupa said with the same dopey smile he’d had since Leona arrived. 

“I dunno what the macaronis do,” Cheka said with a shrug. He pulled the blanket over his shoulders again when it slipped. “But that’s what they said.” 

Timmy’s entire face wrinkled. Zahara jabbed his ribs in the same way Yuu had jabbed Leona. “Hush! We’re not done yet.” 

Leona never thought he’d empathize with one of Cheka’s friends, but the exasperated sigh from Timmy had him nodding in agreement. Lilia leaned over and whispered quietly in Cheka’s ear. Cheka’s ear twitched. Leona glared at Lilia when he fell back into his place with a giggle. 

Cheka threw out his hands. “Present the bracelets!” 

Yuu offered her bracelet to Cheka without hesitation. Cheka shook his head. He leaned forward and in a loud whisper said, “You gotta give it to Unca Leona, Ms. Yuu!” 

Leona’s fingers rolled over the beads of the bracelet Zahara had forced onto him. A memory whispered at the back of his thoughts, but Lilia’s giggles and Grim’s bemoaning “Hurry up!” chased it away. Yuu did as Cheka said and offered the bracelet to Leona instead. When Leona didn’t immediately accept it, she gently swung it from the tip of her finger. “Don’t make me put this on you myself.” 

Leona snorted. Deciding the quickest route to escaping all this was to play along, Leona took the bracelet from her. He tossed the other bracelet he held at Yuu, figuring that was his role in this weird game. He smirked when Yuu scrambled to catch it before it hit the ground. 

“The bracelets are presented,” Cheka happily exclaimed. He hopped in place on the bench. Leona took a small step forward when Cheka’s bouncing put him perilously close to the edge of the bench (because Sade would chew his ear off if Cheka broke an arm). “Holy macaronis is complete! Now you go whoopsie, and I get a cousin!” 

It was the first time Cheka’s prattling had left Leona completely speechless. His ears twitched from Kalim’s happy applause and Cheka’s friends’ mixed reactions of excitement and childish disgust. Lilia’s giggles had morphed into deranged cackles again. Grim’s head swiveled between them all. “I don’t get it. Is this another weird human thing? ‘Cause last I checked, macaroni was for eating, not...whatever this is.” 

Leona whipped his head towards Yuu. Her expression had completely flattened save for the small wrinkle between her eyebrows. She slowly blinked when Cheka jumped off the bench and tackled her legs. His thin tail swished behind him like an excited dog. “Can you give me a cousin before you leave? I want him to come to my next birthday party!” 

The whispered memory roared to the forefront of Leona’s tangled thoughts. Sade’s stupid friend—the one who had a shotgun wedding last summer. The one Sade kept calling a “whoopsie wedding” because she wasn’t about to sit down and explain to Cheka why everyone kept whispering about a missing baby. Sade had even said the couple exchanged bracelets they had made instead of rings because it was trendy or something equally as stupid. 

The kids—being kids—didn’t notice the new stiffness in the prefect or the shift in Lilia’s cackles. They huddled around Yuu and celebrated with happy cries. Cheka was the first to break away, and then it was like nothing had happened. Cheka took off across the room, and the other three naturally followed, the two boys grabbing an unsuspecting Grim and dragging him along with them. The direbeast sputtered when he was forced to sit between Cheka and Zahara while Timmy and Pupa served them imaginary plates of grilled beetles. 

Kalim was easily pulled into the game, “eating” his pretend beetles with gusto alongside Cheka. Lilia cackled and patted Leona’s elbow. “What an exciting way to end our adventure here! Now, you take care of our dear prefect. I know plenty of young men who will have a thing or two to say if you make too big of a whoopsie." 

An awkward cough from Yuu was the only thing that prevented Leona from snapping at Lilia’s retreating back. She wouldn’t look at him, fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist. “So, uh, that was something. Cheka has such a creative imagination.” 

Leona’s scowl flipped into a wide grin. He flicked his tail in her direction. She jumped when his tail brushed the back of her hand. His grin widened. "Imagination? You were the one who made the bracelet for me. You want me to believe you didn’t understand the significance behind it?” 

Yuu’s head snapped in his direction just as he had anticipated. Her eyes narrowed at him with obvious doubt. “It’s just a bracelet.” 

Leona hummed. He plucked at the larger red beads of his bracelet, feeling the shallow engravings in the glass beads. “I’m shocked you don’t have the Sunset Savanna’s traditions memorized by now. Jack brags about your dedication to learning Twisted Wonderland’s history after every little study session you froshes have.” 

The sunburn Yuu had developed over the last day slightly deepened in hue across her face. “I don’t exactly have the time to memorize every single country’s traditions. I’m the only one responsible enough to clean up all you boys’ messes after all.” 

Leona held back a derisive snort. He saw straight through her attempts to distract him, and he wouldn’t let her divert the embarrassment so easily. “Now I’m hurt. You’ve memorized the magical principles of alchemy but not engagement rituals? If I didn’t know any better, I'd say you were toying with my emotions.” 

“Engagement ritual?” Yuu didn’t sound nearly as scandalized as he would have liked, but where she was able to control her tone, her flush spread unhindered down her neck. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. What does a child’s imaginary game have anything to do with engagement rituals?” 

Leona clicked his tongue. He lifted his forearm and twisted his wrist for her to get a good look at his bracelet. The lie unfolded with the same ease as one of Vil’s flimsy little hand fans. “You see the symbol on these red beads? Couples once used the same symbol to proclaim their intentions of courting. If both parties accepted the courting, they’d paint the symbol on their foreheads with the same juice from the baobab fruit used to paint the Prince of Beasts forehead at his birth.” 

Yuu’s eyes remained narrow, but Leona caught the quick flick down to her own bracelet. She lifted her arm a second later and shook it with enough force to make the loose bracelet bounce against her smaller wrist. “All right then. Say I believe you. What’s the green beetle and yellow lion faces on my bracelet meant to symbolize in this so-called courting?” 

Leona barely blinked. “The green beetle is a promise to provide in even the harshest times. It was once said that the Prince of Beasts survived on a diet of insects after he became lost in the wilds beyond the savanna. Hence the symbolism.” He paused until he saw the slight widening of Yuu’s eyes, a subtle sign of her buying his lie. “I’d say the lions are pretty obvious. A promise of strength and protection.” 

That subtle hint of naivety instantly disappeared behind the prefect’s default blank expression. She crossed her arms and tilted her chin up to fully meet his gaze. The flush had paled to nothing more than a sunburn again. “Strength and protection, huh? Then shouldn’t the lions be on your bracelet? A promise from me for strength and protection? Because last I checked, it’s a pretty accepted fact that lionesses are tougher on the savanna than you broody, princely lions.” 

Leona sighed. He mimicked her posture, though his added slouch gave a hint of natural conviction. “Strength doesn’t come from just brute power. Wit can outmaneuver a flying fist with the right amount of flexibility and awareness.” 

“You’re so full of crap. Next, you’ll try to tell me a baboon’s ass is the symbol of wisdom around here.” 

Leona chuckled, finding her shift from gullible embarrassment to sharp skepticism amusing. He casually flicked his wrist while at the same time turning away from her. “If you want to be so dismissive of our traditions, I won’t stop you. More sympathy for me—the poor prince so callously rejected by an ignorant proposal. You can be the one to tell the brat he won’t be getting his whoopsie cousin anytime soon.” 

Yuu didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll tell Sade you made Cheka cry for no reason.” 

Leona stopped short and shot her a narrowed glare. He lightly hissed between his teeth. “The guards wouldn’t allow you close enough to speak to Sade even if Kifaji wasn’t the one watching the brat today.” 

Yuu arched one eyebrow. “Did you forget I have her cellphone number to video call Cheka? She’s even told me to text her if you ever gave me trouble.” 

Leona was going to have a chat with his sister-in-law. This was why he had never brought anyone around to visit—even if he had cared to bring anyone from NRC home, giving Falena and Sade direct access to people he associated with? Leona would rather eat vegetables for the rest of his life. 

Still, he couldn’t help but prod at Yuu’s renewed confidence. “And will you be telling her about our whoopsie marriage too?” 

Yuu’s eyelids lightly fluttered. “Well, someone has to confirm if Cheka has the authority to officiate a marriage, being a recognized prince and all.” 

Leona snorted and left when he caught Lilia shooting a wide grin in his direction. He wasn’t about to be stuck playing pretend with Cheka and his friends because the prefect thought she could use the threat of Sade to manipulate him. It was worth the risk of running into Kifaji again and being dragged to a boring, business luncheon. He could handle a slime-ball businessman; he wasn’t about to sit around here and lick the air pretending it was a grub soup with Lilia giggling on the side. 

A few days later, with the Cloudcalling Festival behind them, Leona pointedly ignored the bracelet Yuu continued to wear to classes and pretended the matching bracelet wasn’t stashed away in a drawer of his desk where even Ruggie wouldn’t find it. 

[beembeem]

Hey, Love your work! Do you think you could write aizawa x student reader that was abandoned? (platonic, of course)

Have a nice day!

Aww, thank you, Anon! I'd be happy to write aizawa content he's one of my favorites! (^_^) this request hits a little close to home (a bit too close haha) but I had a lot of fun writing this! Let me know what you want me to write next!

Y/n sat on the streets curb, clutching her go bag tightly to her body, the rain pelting her hunched figure and drowning out her silent sobs. Y/n knew her parents were tired of her, all the threats they threw at her, their constant bickering, the number of times her parents told her they hated them to her face. Everything boiled up, and in a fit of rage, y/ns parents threw her out of the house. Leaving her where she is now. A homeless teenager bawling her eyes out in the rain while sitting on a curb in the city of mustafu.

Y/n jumped when a hand was placed on her shoulder, she was so lost in her scrambled thoughts that she hadn't noticed the blue umbrella shielding her from the rain. Y/n looked up and then over at her homeroom teacher squatting beside her holding the umbrella over her. "Y/n? What are you doing out here?" He asked, noting your tear stained cheeks and red puffy eyes. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He questioned frantically scanning your body, without giving you time to answer he stood and pulled you up with him "I'll walk you to your house."he said before handing you his umbrella "m-my parents don't want me there" y/n said, already" choking on her words and fighting the tears that threatened to spill."your parents kicked you out?" Aizawa asked and y/n nodded, fiddling with her pajama shirt, her parents didn't allow you the luxury of getting real clothes on.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath, "alright, come on, I'll take you to my house." He said before grabbing your empty hand and leading you along."Despite the fact that having you at my house is wildly inappropriate, it's either that or you catching your death in this rain. He stated that matter of factly, "plus nemuri would beat my ass if she knew I left you out here." he walked with you following closely behind him before long. You ended up standing outside of his apartment door, your brain still processing the events, and short-circuiting y/n could barely remember the walk. Mr. Aizawa twisted the key to the door, opened it, and ushered you inside. You immediately took off your soaking wet slippers and stood awkwardly by the front door while Aizawa put his coat and umbrella in a nearby closet. "Alright, kid, I'll run you a hot shower, then I'll call nedzu and let him know what's going on." He said, "a-alright. " You filled with the fabric of your wet shirt again, starting to lose yourself to your mind when you were pulled back by two snaps."Did you hear me? Bathroom is the first door on the left, " he said while pointing down the hall."Oh! Sorry, " you apologized before quickly running off to the bathroom and savoring a hot shower.

After drying yourself off and getting dressed in the clothes, Mr. Aizawa gave you and you silently, walked to his kitchen where you found him slumped at the table. You awkwardly stood in the doorway to the kitchen. "Uhm, thank you for the clothes, Mr Aizawa!" You thanked him, and his tired moved from his phone to you."No problem, they're just things nemuri left here." He stated before going back to his phone."nedzu said he reported your parents for child abandonment." He said, motioning you to sit down in the chair across from him before he stood up "I made some cocoa, I made you some" he walked over to the kitchen counter and grabbed two mugs full of hot chocolate then returned to the table and set a cup down in front of you. "Thank you!" You said before taking a sip. "So," he stared at you. "What happened?" He asked bluntly. You froze for a few seconds before breaking down in tears .t-they just ditched me, I loved them, and they just threw me our like I meant nothing!" You cried."I - I don't have anywhere else to go! They were all I had and now I won't be able to go to UA because I can't afford my stupid tuition, and-and" it felt like you were choking, you couldn't let anything out except for tears and sobs. Aizawa moved to comfort you, pulling you into a hug and patting your head. He hushed you before saying, "we'll figure it out." You grabbed the back of his shirt and cried even harder.

There'd be hell for your parents to pay.

[laurfilijames]

Happy Birthday, Darlin'

Pairing: Jax Teller x female reader

Words: 4,014

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Smoking. Mild descriptions of cuts and blood. Mentions of fighting. Unprotected intercourse. Slight asphyxiation. Some insecurities about Jax and his habits.

Summary: It's your birthday, and while Jax is pressed to make it to you in time to celebrate, he makes sure all your wishes come true.

A/N: Happy Birthday to ME 🥳 yes, I'm that bitch who wrote herself a birthday fic because I can. I've been dying to write for Jax for so long and thought this would be a fun way to get a feel for writing his character. If my writing wasn't self-indulgent before, it definitely is now.

This takes place after Season 2 Ep 12 The Culling where the Sons fight The League/Zobelle's guys because I just found Jax to be wildly sexy in that scene (but also when isn't he?)

---

The night air was cool on his face as he ripped as quickly as he could down the quiet, country roads back into town, easily shifting into fourth gear knowing every cop in Charming would be responding to where he just fled from and not having to worry about being pulled over for his excessive speed.

Jax knew he was pushing it for time - your birthday over in just less than two hours - so with a reminder of his bruised and bloodied knuckles, he twisted the throttle and opened up his Harley even more in order to get to you faster.

With a smile on his face at knowing your neighbours already complained about his presence on your street, he let open again on the straight section of road about half a mile from your house, hoping you and everyone else would now be fully aware of his arrival.

The fight with Zobelle’s gang already had him fired up, but not nearly as much as getting to see you did, and as he pulled into your driveway, his buzzing fury changed into a different kind of energy entirely.

Taking one last haul on the cigarette hanging out of his mouth, he blew out the smoke and tossed it onto the asphalt, stepping on it with a twist of his dusty shoe as he unbuckled his helmet.

Jax glanced up to see the dim, warm light of a lamp in your living room, smiling to himself again that you were still awake and no doubt waiting for him as he took his backpack off his shoulders and unzipped the main compartment.

Relieved the box didn't get smushed, he pulled out the still perfectly preserved cupcake and dug in his pocket for the single candle he stuck in there earlier, bringing his lighter out with it along with another cigarette.

He placed the fresh smoke between his lips, not paying any attention to the cut stinging on his lip where it rested, focusing on sticking the candle in the center of the cupcake and lighting it. With the pink candle set ablaze, he brought his lighter to the end of the cigarette and inhaled as it burned the paper, shoving the Zippo back in the inside pocket of his cut before carefully making his way up the steps to your front door with his free hand blocking any wind made by walking from blowing out the tiny flame.

He grunted quietly to himself when he knocked on the door, his hand more sore than he thought it was after punching Weston's face in so many times, muttering to himself when he realized he was getting blood on the side of the cupcake from a split on his other hand.

"Ahh, shit," he sighed, knowing he didn't have enough time to try to clean anything up when he heard your footsteps coming to answer. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and quickly forced the smoke out with a deep blow, waving his hand so it wouldn't be in your face when you opened the door.

An automatic smile formed on his lips as soon as he laid eyes on you, leaning against the doorway in nothing but your panties and his white reaper crew t-shirt that he left the last time he was over, his voice hoarse as he started singing.

"Happy birthday to you," he began, taking a step through the entrance. "Happy birthday to you," he continued, getting right close to you until your faces were inches from each other, his eyes flickering over your shy, but happy features as his gesture made you flush all over.

"Happy birthday, darlin'. Make a wish."

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, looking from his intensely blue eyes down to the candle in front of you, and blew it out.

"What'd you wish for?"

"I'm not supposed to tell, Jax."

He smirked, leaning even closer to you so his lips were hovering over yours, "Then I'll have to guess."

His kiss tasted like smoke, but you didn't care, craving the nicotine that transferred from his mouth to yours like you were addicted to the habit itself, deepening the kiss by arching into him as if you were never able to get enough.

Jax walked forward, guiding you further into your house, the sound of the door closing lost on both of you as he kicked it shut behind him and eventually broke your kiss.

"I didn't think I was going to get to see you today," you whispered, your lids heavy with lust when you looked up at him.

"Yeah, well, I skipped out early to come give my girl her gift." He held up the cupcake and let you take it from his hand, watching your expression change to confusion as you noticed the blood stained on the side of it.

"Is that your blood?"

"50/50 chance," he laughed, swiping his finger through the icing before licking it clean.

“Should I even ask?”

“Probably not.”

You began taking in the deepening colours of purple and red on his cheek, the cut on his lip and the ones that flawed his hands, the concern you felt taking away from the joy in having him there.

“Is this why you're late?” you questioned, your fingertips ghosting over his cheek and down to his lip.

“So you were expecting me, then," he winked, his smugness always managing to outshine anything else, forcing you to roll your eyes at him.

He kissed you again, plucking the cupcake out of your hand and placing it blindly over on the hall table where you kept your keys and purse, his hands reaching up to cradle your face.

"I should report you for theft, you know," he warned, pausing to take a breath, nodding down at his shirt that hung loosely on your body.

"I think of it more as safe keeping until the owner comes back to claim it," you challenged, your eyebrows raising to show your displeasure in it being too many days that had turned into weeks since he was last here.

"Hey, at least I didn't miss your birthday," he objected, trying his best to defend himself, his head tilted while his eyebrows rose to crease his forehead.

You backed away from him, turning to walk through to the kitchen, looking back over your shoulder.

"And how many other birthday's did you celebrate in the meantime?"

"Oh, come on," he laughed frustratedly, your accusation making him look up at the ceiling. "You know it isn't like that."

You nodded slowly in silent agreement, trying not to let your insecurities and jealousies get the better of you.

He sighed loudly, waiting for a moment before following you, his voice raising slightly to make sure you heard from down the hallway.

"You're the only one I always come back to. The one I want to be inside every night."

Hearing his footsteps coming toward you, you closed your eyes and breathed out, terrified of the hurt he could cause but realizing you were being hurt every time regardless.

His voice was near and softer now that he was in the kitchen with you, making your heart pound faster in your chest even though he seemed so calm.

"You gotta stop pushing me away."

It was safer that way; always keeping him at an arm's length, never wanting to get your heart involved when you knew what he was like and how many beds he ended up in. Jax Teller could have any woman he wanted; more charm in him than all of Charming, a simple crooked grin or nod as he strutted past enough to seal the deal, and not one person could say he wasn't successful in his endeavors.

Despite it all, you wanted him, but kept it casual enough to get a taste of what you needed, having said to both yourself and him on more than one occasion over the years that nothing more would ever happen as long as his habits remained the same, and you weren't about to ask a man like him to change.

He came up to you, his hands holding your waist, his lips peppering across your shoulder and dangerously close to your neck. You closed your eyes again and sighed, relishing in the sensation while praying he didn't do the one thing you always told him not to.

But Jax always did whatever the fuck he wanted.

He kissed up along your neck, making you moan and breathe deeper, trying to keep some sort of resolve.

"Jax, you know my rule," you pleaded, feeling your entire body ignite to his lawlessness.

"Remind me what that is again?" he lied, continuing to kiss and suck your neck, knowing damn well what it was.

You shivered, feeling yourself slipping away and quickly becoming willing to do anything he asked or all the things you really wanted to do; the way he kissed your neck was your kryptonite and weakness and the one thing you always prevented in order to save yourself, fearing you would reveal exactly how you felt about him anytime he lingered there.

"Jax…"

He stopped, grabbing your chin to force you to look at him, his eyes dancing back and forth with yours as he looked at you seriously.

“I'm done playing. I want this," he said pointedly, speaking with surety.

You let go of the breath you were holding, still questioning whether to trust him regardless of how convincing he was right now.

Taking hold of your cheeks again, he smoothed his thumbs back and forth across them, an honesty and pleading present in those clear blues that made you lose yourself every time.

Before you could argue or plead your case, he crashed against you, inhaling deeply like he was trying to suck all the air out of your lungs, his tongue probing deep into your mouth to tangle with yours.

There was no sense in trying to hold back now, done with pretending for as many years as you had, the whine that passed from your mouth to his signaling your surrender.

The metallic taste of blood mixed with tobacco teased your tastebuds with each kiss, increasing your hunger to taste more of him while your body displayed those needs and your hands roamed frantically under his hoodie and the waist of his low-sitting jeans.

The leather of his cut was soft on your fingertips as you ran them along the open panels, feeling Jax’s eagerness increase in his kiss when you peeled it down his arms and placed it carefully on the kitchen chair beside you without looking. He shrugged off his hoodie and white t-shirt while you busied yourself with unfastening his belt and jeans, letting the weight of his knife pull them to the floor without assistance, leaving him standing in his boxers with a cheeky grin on his face.

“You seem pretty happy unwrapping your present.”

“Is this all I get?” you teased, matching his smile and giggling when he picked you up and put you over his shoulder, giving your bum a harsh smack as he started making his way down to your bedroom.

"Come on, birthday girl, let's go make those wishes come true."

A seriousness took over again once you were in your room, what remained of the playfulness exchanged just a minute ago in the kitchen leaving the moment your feet touched the hardwood floor, Jax peering down at you with a look you hadn't seen before.

You'd be lying if you told yourself you weren't absolutely terrified, scared of letting yourself fall even further for him, but the way his expression had softened and his eyes held what you knew had to be love for you in them, you were ready to give in.

“I mean it,” he muttered, one of his hands reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ear where you leaned into his touch.

You crashed against him, kissing him hard, the need to have him more fierce than ever and only fueled more by him meeting your enthusiasm equally.

Jax tore his shirt from your body, only pausing in kissing you for long enough to get your head through it, stepping closer to you so your bodies were pressed together, feeling his hard cock nudging against your thighs and then between your legs through his boxers.

More desperate for him now than you thought you had ever been, you tugged his loose-fitting shorts down roughly, your mouth watering as his dick sprung free and bounced temptingly before you took hold of it and began rubbing the silky, veiny skin, his approval of your touch sounding as a low growl from deep in his chest.

"Fuck," he hissed, his mouth close to your ear as he leaned in against you, his hips moving into your strokes.

Finding his focus, he let his fingers hook in your thong to pull it down over your hips, his head angling to meet your mouth with his again as he slipped his fingers in your folds to spread your slick, both of you pressing your mouths against each other's harder as ecstasy quickly took over.

This was normally the time where one of you would frantically reach for a condom, barely keeping it together in time to get it on him as the temptation to go without almost always won, and today it seemed it would. You had always trusted that he wrapped up whenever he was with anyone, and although you were on birth control you were happy not to take any risks, but today was different. You wanted him, and all of him.

Jax walked forward until the back of your legs met your bed, and forcing you to sit, he crawled in over you, his blond hair hanging in your face as you spread out beneath him and he settled between your open legs.

He gave you a once over before meeting your eyes, admiring your perfect form spread and ready for him to ruin, his cheeks flinching as he clenched his jaw while he waited for you to give him the go-ahead.

Your consent was silent as you lifted your head up to capture his lips with yours, his sun-bleached beard scratching over your chin, lifting your hips at the same time so you rubbed yourself over his leaking head.

Jax wasted no more time, driving into you deeply in one push, pausing when he bottomed out to flex his cock inside you. You moaned into him, your hands clawing over the tattoo covering his back, unable to believe how good it felt to have him bare inside you.

Immediately choosing a rhythm that was both slow and hard at the same time, he thrusted in and out and ground against you with perfect precision, sending you close to the edge faster than ever before.

"You feel so fucking good!" he growled, his mouth parting from yours and leaving a string of wet between them, moving his lubricated lips over to your neck where you whined loudly and rocked more into his movements.

"Fuck, Jax!" you cried, knowing you were leaving ten red trails across his pale skin, but feeling the need to claim him as yours.

He was doing the same, sucking at your neck to leave darkened blemishes behind, his tongue alternating where his teeth came out to nip harshly at the tender skin to soothe each bite, his tempo growing erratic as he lost himself in your dripping cunt.

You seemed to only get wetter the more he kissed your neck and fucked you deeply, hitting that sweet spot with his head with each blow, the way you squeezed his girth tightly as he dragged in and out of you making him want to blow it already.

He forced himself to pause, needing to compose himself so he could keep fucking you for as long as he could, not wanting this to be over any time soon. Your whining increased, making him unsure if it was because he was sitting idly inside you or that he was persistent in continuing to kiss your neck all over to the point you had goosebumps littering your skin and you writhing desperately under him. It made him smile, knowing he had such an effect on you, smug in his ability to have you past the point of control and that you were seconds away from admitting something you tried so hard to deny for so long.

If Jax was anybody but the asshole he was he would've said it long ago, but selfishly he wanted to hear it spill from your gorgeous lips first, and he didn't ever go down without a fight.

"Roll over," he demanded, pulling out of you and forcefully grabbing at your leg to help flip you onto your stomach, hooking your knee up to bend at a high angle.

You took your hair in your hand and draped it over one shoulder, exposing the side of it for him to do with what he wanted, making him smirk more that you clearly wanted him there despite what you always said.

The hand that wasn't supporting him on the mattress gripped your cheek and spread you apart, driving his dick in you again torturously slowly, watching your face contort as he stretched you open. Your hands tore at the sheets as you backed yourself into him to push him in further, meeting his hips in slow, rolling motions, that tingling sensation of your building climax quickly returning.

Sex with Jax was always mind-blowing and the best you ever had, but tonight it felt so much better, so much more powerful, and you knew you could never have it any other way again.

He leaned over you to gently kiss your neck, more carefully than before, his efforts in wrecking you focused in his movements even though the feel of his lips on your sensitive skin had you shivering and threatening to come undone just as much.

The scent of your skin was like a drug to him as he breathed deeply, his nose ghosting at your nape and in your hair, dragging him right along with you to a point he would never recover from.

Wrapping a hand around to wedge between you and the bed, he found your clit, rubbing precise circles with his fingertips in the way he always knew made you scream, the thought of feeling you cum on his bare dick making him feel more feral than he ever had.

"Jax, I'm so close- Fuck!" you cried, your breathing growing ragged, your limbs moving recklessly to try to gain momentum on your climax that sat waiting just on the edge, seeking to keep up with his ruthless pounding.

He slowed his pace, adjusting to a speed he knew would have you at his mercy, his fingers pressing onto your swollen bud harder but in more languid strokes. His nose brushed along your neck, his breath fanning out over your dewy skin before he started kissing you again, the way your body tensed beneath him telling him he had you right where he wanted you.

"God, Jax, I love you," you admitted, feeling freed and unashamed in saying what you had feared to the most, your body relaxing into your words and finding the release it sought.

Jax hammered into you, pounding you through your high, his grunts mixing with your shouts of pleasure as you quaked and strangled him tightly.

Giving you no time to recover, he sat back on his heels and lifted you up with him, his cock momentarily slipping from you as you positioned yourself over his lap, allowing him a glimpse of your milky cum that coated it and sent him into a frenzy.

He speared back into you, your pussy sensitive and still tingling from your orgasm, his hand holding you back against his chest and pinching one of your nipples between his fingers to keep you as stimulated as possible.

Reaching up to turn your face to the side so he could kiss you, he rutted up into you brutally, feeling your pussy stretch out over him with each pump, your wetness dripping out to soak his golden pubes.

His kisses turned sloppy, nearing his end, his hand slipping down to hold your throat where he could easily control the amount of air allowed to pass through your windpipe, the knowledge of knowing you trusted him enough to let him do it lighting him up with an intense buzzing.

Before he could give in to that temptation, he let one hand return to your tits that bounced with his thrusts, the other replacing his lips on yours as he pulled your bottom lip down with his thumb and shoved two of his fingers inside. You sucked on them appreciatively, wetting them with your spit thoroughly as he triggered your gag reflex and pinched one of your peaked nipples at the same time, making you moan and clench hard on his dick. Removing them from the heat of your mouth, he trailed them between your breasts and straight down your stomach, landing on your clit where he spread your spit generously and worked to make you cum again.

You ground on him quickly, the increase in your movements sending you through to another climax, the sound of him grunting and panting in your ear as he began to cum encouraging you, but not as much as knowing he was about to fill you up.

He drove up into you harder, his teeth scraping along your neck and up to your cheek where he growled in your ear roughly, "I love you, too, babe."

You came together, feeling his hot spend coat your insides and start to leak out of you as he didn't let up on fucking you, wrecking you harder than he ever had before.

Your body felt weak and charged all at the same time, like you were melting into him but somehow needing more, and sliding off his dick with a quiet moan at the loss of him, you turned around to face him, sitting in his lap where you wrapped your arms and legs around him and held him close, continuing to kiss him with a necessity that was greater than breathing.

Holding your head in his hands, Jax met you with equal fervor, his chest rising and falling sharply against yours as he worked to catch his breath, and slowly guided you to lay down in the sheets with him.

Your legs tangled together, your arms holding and caressing each other with a surety you had never known before, relishing in the after effects of a level of bliss you were positive up until now you were never going to experience.

Slowing your kisses until they stopped, Jax looked at you warmly and flashed you a lazy smile, and you couldn't help but trace your fingertips over the creases beside his mouth and then up to run through his tousled hair.

You felt a slight pang in your chest in knowing he would probably leave soon, needing to see to some duties for the club, always having to run off shortly after his time with you to go deal with something that his loyalties couldn't ignore.

"I don't want today to end," you whispered, not ready to call it quits on your birthday just yet, and especially not ready to let him out of your bed after confessing something so huge.

Jax shifted onto his back, stretching out with a groan to reach for your alarm clock on your nightstand to check the time; 11:51 pm. Following the cord from the back of it into the wall behind the table, he pulled the plug out, watching the screen turn blank before rolling back over to you, his knee wedging between your legs as he settled his weight on top of you.

“Your birthday isn't over yet, darlin', and I'm not going anywhere.”

---

Taglist:

@sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls @littlenosoul @blairsanne @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90 @paintlavillered

I went ahead and tagged everyone I have written down for my Charlie/Will Miller taglist so my apologies if you're not interested in being tagged in Jax fics and I will happily add or remove anyone as they wish!

[snowballseal]

How they react to you having a lot of tattoos

LaDS X Reader

Anon Request: I was curious if you would be willing to write the boys reacting to a partner with a lot of tattoos? I feel like MC is pretty covered up and as someone with full sleeves and a large back piece, it’s always interesting to see how people react to seeing them.

Note: Y’all killing me with these fun requests 🥺 I love this. I only have a few minimalist tattoos, but I want MORE. Thank you for the lovely request, anon. The scenarios were fun to think of.

Word Count: who’s to say 🤷about 1000 each

---

Rafayel

The first time Rafayel sees your tattoos is when you go on a date to the beach. You’re not even thinking about it as you change in the bathroom. When you decided to become a hunter, you knew you would have to cover up your tattoos. The policy, while being outdated in your mind, isn’t all that bothersome since you prefer to wear long sleeves anyways.

So it never occurred to you that Rafayel had never seen the full expanse of the ink on your body.

Which is why, when you step out and his eyes go impossibly wide as he looks at you, mouth dropping open, you’re first and foremost confused.

“What?” 

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you feel an inkling of insecurity curl in your chest as you look down at your two-piece. It’s nothing immodest, just a blue bikini that you thought was cute and also met your standards for support. It’s a little frilly, but a part of you thought he’d love that. 

“Do you not like it? I don’t uh, I don’t have anything else to wear…” Your voice comes out uncharacteristically meek.

That seems to snap Rafayel out of his daze. The artist shakes his head, the tips of his ears going positively red, as he still can’t rip his eyes from the lines decorating your skin. He reaches out, tracing the gentle petals of a flower on your waist.

“How come you’ve never shown me these, cutie?” He asks, voice touched with awe.

Oh. Heat creeps up your neck. So that’s what he was on about. You glance down at your body. You suppose it is a little jarring. It’s not like you’re covered head to toe, but you’re definitely a well covered canvas. Both of your arms have partial sleeves that curl up around your shoulders and continue along your collarbone. A large collection of flowers adorns the right side of your waist, traveling down your hip and turning into a pattern of vines down your leg. You have a few other ones, some silly, some heavy with meaning.

“Sometimes I forget I have them,” you admit a bit bashfully. Rafayel gives a low hum and your breath catches as his fingers continue to trace the lines on your waist, his touch warm and ticklish. “I’ve had some of them since before I started training.”

“I have to say, I’m a bit jealous that another artist has touched your body,” he murmurs, voice dropping to something low. His hand slips around your waist, drawing you closer so he can trace his lips over the intricate ink on your collar bone, ocean eyes glinting up at you with something possessive yet overflowing with adoration. “But even I have to admit this is beautiful work. Befitting my queen.”

Your cheeks go warm. As red at the tips of his ears. There’s something so reverent about his touch and it makes your heart flutter wildly, but you’re all too keenly aware that you’re still in public.

Not that it stops you from poking the fish.

“Would it make you feel better to know my newest one is for you?” You ask, reaching to touch his cheek with a teasing smile.

Rafayel’s face lights up. He draws back immediately, looking over your tattoos like an eager child until he spots the fresher ink on your left leg. You stifle a giggle as he drops to his knees, fingers curling around your ankle to pull your leg off the ground so he can get a better look. 

“Rafayel!” You bark out a laugh, balance stolen away. It forces you to lean on him just so you don’t fall over. “Geez, I could have just sat down, you know!”

“This is for me?” Rafayel, oblivious to your complaints, grazes his fingertips tenderly along your skin.

Shaking your head, you give his hair a playful fuss, “Yes, you impatient fish. It’s not done yet, but it’s about us.”

It’s the beginnings of an ocean scene. A beach circles right above your ankle, depicting the silhouettes of two younger kids, their hands clasped in a promise. As the ink continues up your leg, it transforms into what looks like a night sky, but instead it’s water, swirling lines of blue and purple, full of schooling fish, one in particular standing out, bright red among the cool tones. A familiar symbol. And on the back of your calf swims a graceful looking figure, reaching for the light, edges blurred between fish and man and water.

A lump forms in Rafayel’s throat as he touches the red fish, a familiar warmths spreading across his chest as the same symbol glows faintly. Seeing it on you fills him with an emotion he can’t quite explain.

“You do realize what this means, right?” Those ocean eyes flicker up to you. They glint like dark pearls, iridescent and beautiful, yet carry a depth of emotion that makes your breath catch.

“I do,” you answer unwaveringly.

Rafayel’s lips pull into a small smile. He never expected someone to do something like this for him. Though, of course you would. And it’s beautiful.

“It’s a stunning piece,” he murmurs eventually, leaning forward to press a kiss to your knee, right above the ink, his hair tickling your thigh, “Though I still think the canvas is the most beautiful thing of all.”

A snort escapes you and you bite your lip, heat rushing back to your cheeks, “You’re ridiculously corny, Rafayel.”

“I know.” His smile shifts into a wolfish grin as he stands up, scooping you into a hug. You squeal as he spins you around, holding on tightly despite knowing he’d never drop you. It’s only when you’re positively red that he stops, his mirthful eyes watching your face. “It’s worth it if I get to see this face. I swear, cutie, if you do more things like this, I might become unbearable.”

“You never could,” you giggle and loop your arms around his neck, “Though, I was thinking maybe next time, you could come with me?”

Rafayel raises an eyebrow, “Oh? You want to get matching tattoos? I’ll admit, I’ve never considered it…but if it’s with you, I can’t think of anything more fitting.”

“You’ll have to design it, of course,” you hum, tone turning a little more excited, “Oh, I can’t wait! It’ll be so fun! We can do it the next time I take a break, and after swimming season, obviously.”

Leaning in, Rafayel gives you a short kiss, laughing against your lips, “Anything you want, my lady. As long as it’s with you, I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”

---

Zayne

The first time Zayne sees your tattoos is when you reunite at Akso. You’re not sure how long it’s been, having only seen him every so often at Grandma Josephine’s for dinner. All you know is that he’s been busy, and is now one of the most remarkable young doctors in Linkon.

And also your new primary care physician.

“Knock knock.” 

You rasp your knuckles lightly against the door to his office, eyes lingering on the nameplate displayed prominently beside it. A strange sense of pride swells in your chest. To think, your childhood best friend would reach such heights.

“Come in,” Zayne calls, voice as aloof as ever.

You slip into his office and let the door shut behind you. The doctor sits at his desk, flicking through a file on his tablet. You hesitate on the edge of his peripherals, not sure exactly what to do or how to act. It’s been a long time since you two have been truly close, not since- But you’ve missed him.

A lot.

“My apologies, my previous surgery ran longer than expected so I am still collecting your records.” You blink, his voice drawing you back out of your thoughts. “You may take a seat if you’d like.”

“Okay.”

Maybe you’re the only one who feels weird about it. He seems completely unaffected, like you’re a normal patient, ever the professional. You awkwardly drag a stool a little closer to his desk, just far enough to not seem weird and so it doesn’t feel like you’re looking over his shoulder.

After the silence goes a tick too long, you can’t help but break it, fingers fiddling nervously with your sweater, “How have you been, Doctor Zayne?”

A faint smile ghosts across his lips. You haven’t changed one bit. 

“I’ve been well, thank you for asking. Work has become quite constant, so I’m afraid I haven’t been able to accept many of Josephine’s dinner invitations.” His eyes dart over to you briefly before focusing back on his screen. “You look like you’ve been doing well since we last saw each other.”

“I have,” you chirp, anxiety easing up a bit, “I’m really close to being finished with training and finally joining the Hunters Association. You should try to make it to dinner this week though! Grandma really misses you. She talks about you all the time.” You falter, cheeks warming a little. “...We’re all really proud of you, Zayne.”

Zayne’s fingers freeze against the tablet. An indecipherable look crosses his face, but he schools his features quickly and gives you a small smile.

“Thank you…you both have always been so kind to me,” he murmurs and finally turns to face you, “I’ll try my best to make it to dinner this week.”

Your face lights up, excitement sparking in your eyes. “Okay! I’ll let her know! She’ll probably make all your favorites. They haven’t changed, right?”

Zayne shakes his head, and you can’t help but kick your feet giddily. It’ll be nice to catch up. You have so many questions, and also so many stories to tell from your training days.

“Now that those plans are made, shall we proceed with your exam?”

“Right, right.” You almost forgot that’s what you’re here for. Nerves coming back, you shuffle on top of the stool. “What do you need me to do?”

“First, if you would remove your jacket, I’ll take your blood pressure and listen to your heart,” he instructs, voice settling back into something professional and neutral.

As Zayne turns away to fetch whatever tools he needs, you make quick work of taking your jacket off. The room is a little chillier than you expect. You wrap your arms around yourself to chase away the goosebumps that erupt across your skin. Your eyes stay glued on Zayne though, watching as he pulls a stethoscope and blood pressure monitor from one of his drawers.

“Do you usually do exams in your office?” You ask offhandedly.

“Not usually. As a cardiothoracic surgeon, I don’t often conduct general exams,” he hums, cleaning off the blood pressure cuff with a sterile wipe.

“Am I special or something, then?”

“With the rarity of your protocore syndrome, I thought it would be most effective to handle your care myself, yes. Though if it makes you uncomfortable we can-”

Zayne’s words cut off as he finally looks back at you. Surprise flickers across his face.

You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, though you don’t know why. Is there something on your face? A stain on your tank top? You glance down, finding nothing of the sort.

“What? What is it? Do I have something on me?” Your hands flicker up to your face, but you don’t feel anything.

Zayne blinks and shakes his head as if coming out of a stupor. The lightest blush warms his ears.

“My apologies. I just wasn’t aware you had so many tattoos.”

Oh. Holding out your arms, you look over the expanse of ink on your skin. You guess it’s a lot. It has taken you a few years, but you’ve effectively covered your arms and shoulders in art. Most of it is florals, with small, meaningful symbols or items hidden in the foliage. You also have a few others, though they’re covered by your clothes.

“I guess you wouldn’t have seen them,” you hum thoughtfully, “I wear a lot of long sleeves to Grandma’s dinners. And work requires us to cover them up.”

“They’re quite intricate.” He sets his tools aside, drawing his chair closer to you. His hand reaches for your arm, but pauses, his eyes darting up to yours. “May I?”

“Go for it,” you whisper, feeling a little bashful now that his attention is focused solely on you.

His fingers graze your wrist lightly, as if he’s scared to press too hard. You watch as he silently turns your arm over, taking in every minute detail of your tattoos. He lingers a little longer on the small, anatomical heart at the center of it all, surrounded by gentle jasmines. They’re incredibly well done, even he can see that, and they all look like they were done some time ago.

Something melancholic and sentimental settles in his chest.

“I remember when you were just a little girl, crying over her popsicle…You truly are all grown up now, aren’t you?” His voice is thick with something you can’t quite pinpoint, his touch turning impossibly tender as he traces the lines up your elbow.

Your heart flutters a little too wildly for your likings. “You’re all grown up too, mister chief cardiac surgeon. That’s a lot bigger than some tattoos.”

Another smile pulls at his lips, breaking his impassive facade.

“These have all healed well, though,” Zayne says, a spark of mischief flickering in his eyes as that strange emotion recedes, “You must have taken good care of them, and that alone is an impressive feat for you. That’s how I know you’ve grown up.”

A mock gasp escapes you and you pull your hand away to press it against your chest. If only to break the contact so he doesn’t notice your racing pulse.

“Doctor Zayne, I am deeply offended at your insinuation,” you insist vehemently, “I am a responsible person, soon to be an amazing hunter! I know how to take care of myself.”

“Says the woman who walked on a sprained ankle for a week out of pure stubbornness.”

“How was I supposed to know it was sprained?”

“I told you it was.”

---

Xavier

The first time Xavier sees your tattoos is after a mission that doesn’t go quite right. You come home with a bandage wrapped around your shoulder and chest, and the added instructions to change the gauze once a day. Which, of course, you can’t do yourself.

“Xav?”

Xavier glances up from where he’s sitting in the sun, a book long forgotten in his lap. Those sleepy blue eyes land on you questioning. You shuffle awkwardly in the doorway, a roll of gauze in your hand.

“Would you help me real quick?” You mumble, a soft blush warming your cheeks, “I can’t uh, I can’t change them myself.”

“Of course,” he hums immediately, standing and stretching languidly, much like a cat. “I am at your service, my lady.”

“Thanks,” you sigh, shoulders sagging, which sends a twinge of pain down your arm.

It was a nasty cut. You had been so focused on fighting one wanderer that you hadn’t noticed another smaller one appearing behind you. It was your fault, and thankfully it didn’t hit anything serious, but it was in just the right place to make moving your arm difficult.

Xavier silently leads you back into the kitchen. Taking the bandages from your hand, he pulls out a chair and motions for you to sit. You do so carefully, not wanting to jostle your body too much. The hunter sets the gauze aside and kneels down in front of you, his fingers finding the hem of your sweater and pausing, placid blue eyes turning up to you in question. 

Ever the gentleman.

A tiny smile pulling at your lips, you offer him a small nod. That’s all he needs to pull it off, his hands moving slowly, with the utmost care. Thankfully, the room isn’t too cold, the setting sun pouring through the window and warming the space. The fabric musses your hair as he slips it over your head, and you instinctively reach up to fix it.

Completely missing the way Xavier’s eyes go wide as he looks down at you.

There aren’t a lot of things that catch the hunter off guard. But the ink covering your skin certainly does. Even with the bandages, he can tell it’s expansive, curling around your shoulders, dipping down your upper arms, painting the entirety of your back. It’s reminiscent of Starry Night, hundreds if not thousands of strokes forming delicate lines that follow the natural curves of your body, flowing so beautifully that they practically beg his fingers to trace them.

And as always with you, Xavier has a startling lack of self-control.

You blink at the feeling of his fingers grazing your uninjured shoulder. His touch is so light, you could almost mistake it for a breath. Almost like he’s worried he’ll hurt you.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, voice twinged with concern as you try and twist to look at where his touch lingers against your skin.

“Stay still,” Xavier orders gently, and you freeze, brows arching in confusion. Realizing you're panicking a little, the hunter leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, offering a soft explanation, “You never told me you have so many tattoos. I simply want to appreciate them.”

“Oh.” Your nerves fizzle out, replaced with an embarrassed tinge of excitement. So that’s what this is about. “I forgot I haven’t shown you them yet. I guess I’m so used to them that I forget they’re there, especially since I have to cover them for work.”

Xavier shifts behind you, fingers following the lines over your shoulder. They bleed into a wash of color, dark blue and purple and pink splashes across your back. A small planet of light sits between your shoulder blades, numerous stars dancing around it. His touch lingers on the planet, a flicker of light spilling from his fingers as his evol reacts unprovoked.

“What made you choose this?” He asks, voice wavering imperceptibly. 

“I’m not sure,” you hum, shrugging your good shoulder, “I’ve always liked space. My grandma used to take me to the planetarium a lot when I was young, and I used to have dreams about it, of floating between planets and exploring the stars. I always felt drawn to this one planet, it was so pretty and it looked like it was made of light, but I could never reach it…”

Philos.

Something twinges in Xavier’s chest. How strange. You don’t remember the planet, that’s for certain, yet some part of you was still connected to it. To your home. To him. All this time…

“It’s beautiful,” he all but whispers.

Heat tinges your cheeks. That’s not usually what people say. It’s not for everyone, you know that. It’s a lot of ink, but you dreamt for so long about getting it. Still, most people usually just make offhand comments, not exactly rude, but not exactly compliments either. Like, oh that must have hurt a lot. Or, you must have saved a lot of money, huh?

Never beautiful.

And yet Xavier traces your ink with what almost feels like admiration. It makes your heart flutter with an uncharacteristic shyness, shoulders jolting up to your neck.

That’s when you remember your injury.

Letting out a low hiss, you drop your shoulder quickly as pain sizzles down your arm. Both of you had practically forgotten about it, caught in the moment. Xavier’s brow furrows again, an apology floating past his lips as he draws his fingers away - much to your disappointment.

“It’s okay,” you breathe, offering him a weak smile, “I just pulled it a little funny. We should probably check it, though.”

“Alright, I’ll be gentle,” he murmurs as he reaches for the edge of your bandage.

“...Thanks, by the way.”

You’re not sure what exactly you’re thanking him for. Helping you or his sweet reaction to the art decorating your skin. Maybe both.

And Xavier must know. He leans down, lips ghosting over your shoulder is an adoring kiss.

“Of course, my star.”

---

Sylus

The first time Sylus sees your tattoos is, of course, on the night you attend the auction. There’s no hiding the ink covering your body when you’re wearing a dress, after all. If anything, though, you think they’ll help you fit in a little better in the N109 Zone.

And you love the reaction Sylus gives you when you step out into the foyer.

For the briefest moment, his eyes go wide. Shock, perhaps the rarest emotion you’ve never had the pleasure of seeing on him, flashes behind those carmine eyes. In an instant, it disappears though, hidden with his usual cocky expression, one of his fine brow ticking up in amusement.

“I’ll admit, sweetie,” the man hums, “You’ve surprised me.”

You flash him a cat-like grin, satisfaction burning deep in your veins, and give a little theatrical spin, “Not what you were expecting, huh?”

Hardly a single part of your body remains untouched by ink. Most of the designs are artistic. Flourishing lines twisting and curling around your muscles, strangely reminiscent of the form his evol takes. They form a network of delicate webs across your body, sometimes forming shapes, sometimes with words written along the fine linework. 

It’s hauntingly beautiful. Sylus can’t help but let his eyes slowly rove over your form, taking in every detail. They’re like a map, and his fingers are itching to explore every part of you, to see just how far the ink slips below the hem of the dress. A dress which he bought for you yet can’t be bothered to even notice now, not with such a dazzling sight set before him.

“Who knew the kitten would turn into a tigress at night,” he murmurs, voice going low and teasing as he slowly circles around you, a predatory glint in his eyes.

Your boldness wavers. 

Sylus always seems to have that effect on you. Like a lamb straying from the herd and being found by the wolf. Prey before a predator starved, maw open and hungry, as if he could consume you whole. And all you can do is hold your ground, even if your legs shake, like that little lamb’s.

“Careful, Sylus,” you whisper, trying to appear unshaken by not following him with your eyes, despite the unease you feel not knowing exactly where he is, “This tiger has claws.”

You feel more than hear his presence come up behind you. A shiver traces down your spine when his breath skates over your ear, warm and far too intentional. In the same way, his fingers trace reverently down your arm, following the path of your ink, until they can intertwine with yours and draw your hand up to his lips.

“And that’s how I prefer you.” His voice is low, a mere rumble against your skin as he kisses your knuckles. Another shudder. “After all, it would be a shame to declaw such a beautiful creature. Even if she likes to scratch.”

God, you hate him.

You hate that it takes everything in you to rip yourself away from his enticing warmth. You hate that your heart is racing against your ribs, like it’s trying desperately to escape. And you especially hate the absolutely smug grin that plays on his lips (and the fact that you want to kiss it so badly).

“You’re teasing me,” you breathe unsteadily, putting space between the two of you.

Something dark flashes in his eyes, “Whatever do you mean, sweetie? I was merely giving you a compliment.”

“Then you give weird compliments,” you fire back, arms wrapping around yourself. “It sounds more like you’re making fun of me.”

Sylus pauses. Those ruby red eyes narrow on you thoughtfully, his lips pressing into a thin line. A tick of silence. Then his expression smoothes into something almost soft, and he takes a few measured steps towards you. Long fingers graze your palm again. A question.

And you give in far too easily, not fighting as he intertwines your fingers once again. His other hand skirts along your exposed shoulder, following the lines of your tattoo as they fade at your neck. You’re frozen under the sudden tenderness of his touch, your pulse racing against his fingertips.

“My apologies, kitten. That wasn’t my intention,” he murmurs, eyes boring into yours with an unnerving genuineness, “I simply meant that your tattoos are...befitting of your character. You are truly…” He looks you over once more, his gaze leaving a tantalizing heat in its wake. That dangerous smile curls his lips again. “Captivating.”

You inhale shakily.

No one has said something like that to you before. Not that you can remember, at least. It would sound cheesy from someone else, but from Sylus? The intensity of his tone leaves you feeling as unsteady as your heart. Lightheaded.

All you can do is blink up at him, eyes wide and doe-ish. No smart retort or comeback. Your mouth, in fact, feels remarkably dry. It fills the man with a touch of pride, rendering you so speechless.

Not one to let you stay dumbfounded for too long, though, Sylus lets out a smooth chuckle and taps your chin, “Careful, sweetie. If you look at me like that, I might just think you’re falling for me.”

Which of course works. Because he knows you better than you know yourself.

“I am not!” You squawk, face going up in flames. “You just surprised me, that's all! I didn’t know you were capable of such niceties.”

Sylus grins, drawing away as you swat at his hand, “Then it seems that we’re even.”

You scowl at him. So not fair.

“Now, would you like to accompany me to this auction, sweetheart?” He offers his arm. You keep your pout up for only a few seconds before giving in and slipping your hand around his elbow begrudgingly. Sylus hums in amusement, leaning in to press a ghost of a kiss against your cheek. “Looking like this, you’ll have no trouble getting the results you’ve been searching for, tonight. You’ll be the perfect distraction, my dear.”

“Well then, let’s not keep them waiting, shall we?”

---

Not gonna lie, Sylus' was probably my favorite. In my head I was kind of picturing the tattoos that Anthony Padilla has (from smosh, yes, sue me), and I just think he would totally call you a tiger since he likes calling you kitten.

Hope y'all enjoyed!

I'm really feeling some angst next possibly...

[delulufortoji]

ONE NIGHT ONLY - choso kamo

pairing: choso x fem! reader

content: 18+, MDNI, begging, whimpering, riding, sub choso, modern au, and yeah thats pretty much it

word count: 2.9k

author’s notes: this has always been one of my favorite songs, so i was like "lemme write a fic with this song"

He holds you tight, fingers tangling in the strands of your hair, trying to pull you in deeper into the kiss. His touch is urgent, bordering on desperate as he clings to you, His hands roam over the landscape of your body, seeking to map every curve and valley, striving to keep you as close to him as humanly possible. He’s drowning in the feeling of your lips on his, nibbling away at them to keep you from pulling away—the taste of your lips is like a forbidden fruit, a temptation too sweet to resist. He craved more of you, your softness, your warmth, your alluring scent, which clung to him like a second skin, a scent that enveloped him like a comforting blanket. It's a scent he knows he will miss when the night is over, a scent he wishes he could keep with him always.

Reluctantly, Choso parts his lips from yours, panting for air, his chest heaving with each breath. “Mm…” He moans, pulling you closer by your hips, his voice a low growl in the silence of the room. “More.”

You glance down at him—his face is flushed with desire, his dewy cheeks stained with the signs of his arousal. Sweat begins to build on his brow as his gaze takes in the beautiful sight that is you, a sight that leaves him breathless with anticipation, his deep purple eyes soft and tender as they roam over your body, drinking in every inch of you with an insatiable thirst.

You still recall the night you first met, the memory playing like a reel in your mind. The bar was alive, buzzing with energy and excitement, The air was charged with the raw energy of rock music, the rhythm resonating throughout the room as the crowd, illuminated by the flicker of red stage, jumped and screamed to the beat of the drums. But to you, the sound of the music, the cheers of the crowd, the clinking of glasses—all of it served as nothing more than background noise as your eyes locked onto the band 's drummer. All you could see was him, the gleam of the overhead lights reflecting off his pale skin, contrasting with the dark hair that fell effortlessly around his face. His features were refined, chiseled perfection—every line and angle of his face seemed carefully sculpted, created by the hands of an artist, creating an intimidating air of godly beauty.

But it was his eyes that seemed to call to you, that caught your attention—they were laced with disinterest, with a gaze that seemed to indicate he was a person who didn’t seem to care about anything, a piercingly cold stare that made chills run down your spine. His eyes, dark like a moonless night, held an intensity that seemed to cut through the air, that oozed mystery and brooding allure, but once they settled onto you, they softened, his face flushed as he stared at you.

Before you knew it, he was gripping and grabbing at your waist, his lips melting into yours as he drew you in closer, his hands wildly exploring your body with an unmatched sense of urgency, thrusting up in you.

Nights like those became routine. Every couple of months he’d fly out to see you, just for one night. You’d fuck, and then he’d be gone by the morning, leaving nothing but his lingering scent and an ashtray full of cigarettes. You knew whatever you had was nothing permanent, but each time he left, you found a piece of your heart going with him, leaving you longing for his return.

“Don’t get too attached,” you remember him telling you, his words echoing in the silence of the room. “This is nothing more than a fling.”

He sounded so cold and detached then, as if this was nothing more than a night of fun and good sex. You never would have imagined that the same person then would be in front of you now, eyes of longing and desperation as his hands traverse your body, fingers digging into your skin, pulling you closer, whining, pleading to surrender himself over to you, to let him drown in the pleasures you had to offer him.

“Keep going…” He mumbles, his warm breath fanning across your cheek. He’s completely consumed by the sensations you’re stirring within him—every lingering touch, every caress, sends waves of longing coursing through his veins, leaving him yearning for more. Yearning for more of you.

A sly smirk tugs at the corner of your lips as you ease him onto his back, climbing into his lap. You can’t help but want to tease him, to play with him a little as you see him in this state—tonight was your only opportunity, and you were going to take full advantage of it. This was a night of stolen moments, a night of passion and longing, a night that you both knew would end with the break of dawn. But for now, you were his, and he was yours, and that was all that mattered.

You brace your hands just above his knees, your legs spread out, giving him the most alluring view of your body, tits out and all. You look down at him, a soft chuckle escaping your lips—his dark hair is splayed out over the pillow like a crow’s wings, his plum eyes wide and dazed, his cheeks stained a rosy red from anticipation. You slowly trace your fingers down Choso’s stomach, following the curve of his body towards his dick, your fingers teasingly brushing against his hardening length.

His breath hitches, and he lets out a low, guttural growl. “Stop it,” Choso murmurs, but you can tell from the way he’s moaning and writhing under you that he wants you to continue what you’re doing, wants you to keep pleasuring him, wants to succumb to your will. You know just what you’re doing to him, rendering him too weak to refuse your advances.

You lean forward, lowering yourself onto his cock with a deliberately slow and gentle push, sliding his member into your cunt, letting it delve deeper into your folds. Choso can barely manage to hold back a whimper as you dive into your task, sliding up and down his length, taking him fully in and then lifting up, rocking back and forth, your movements slow and intentional, teasing him with the sway of your hips, making him wish for more.

“Ngh, don’t…” He lets out a breathy whisper, his hand slipping up your thigh and gripping you tightly for stability as you drag those pretty sighs from his mouth.

Each movement is enough to send Choso into a state of euphoria, driving him to the brink, leaving him in a blissful state of disarray. The sight of him, disheveled and writhing beneath you only fuels your desire to tease him further, tantalizing him with the feel of your pulsating walls gripping his length.

You smile as you ride him, glancing down at his flustered expression. One night only, you think to yourself. This was one of the only times you would ever get to see him like this, with his stoic facade melted away, his defenses shattered as he surrenders to the pleasure you offer, only his vulnerability and desire evident.

Choso’s focus narrows, his entire being consumed by the closeness you’re allowing him—the brush of your soft body against his own skin, the wet heat of your pussy clenching around his throbbing length, the feel of your sweaty palms locked together—all of it only intensifies the lust that had consumed him. He clings to your body with an unmatched desperation, his movements rushed as he rolls his hips against yours, trying to savor every precious moment of closeness—he’s already drunk on the sensation of being this close to you, yearning for more, longing for a way to be even closer than you already are.

You lean down, letting your mouth trail down his neck, your teeth nipping at his exposed skin, drawing soft gasps from his lips. Your hands roam over his toned chest, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, appreciating the hard firmness beneath your touch. Meanwhile, Choso’s squirming beneath the weight of your touch, his senses overwhelmed by the sheer pleasure and euphoria that you effortlessly provide him, drawing those precious mewls and whimpers from his lips. He’s completely under your control, each whimper, each plea for more making your heart flutter with satisfaction. You love the sight of him beneath you, completely undone by your touch—you relish in it, in fact.

“You like that?” You tease, slowing your pace even more just to see his reaction.

His brows furrow, and his lips turn curl into a slight frown—he clearly wants to say something, wants to object, but the way you’re riding his cock leaves him so overstimulated that he can only let out cries of pleasure. He presses his lips together, trying to stifle the moans that threaten to escape, but the overwhelming sensual gratification had already taken hold of him.

It takes him a while, but he’s finally able to force out one sentence: “Please…go faster.”

Your lips tilt into a smirk—you know exactly what you’re doing to him and it drives him crazy. You feel so good, so damn good. Good enough to drag a needy whine from his lips.

“No.” You say, an airy chuckle escaping your lips as you watch him squirm beneath you.

Choso doesn’t immediately reply, gritting his teeth and turning his head to the side, the veins in his neck tensing. He’s trying hard to keep his cool, to keep his frustration in check, but the effort is clearly visible. His sulking is brief, however, lasting only a few seconds before he turns his attention back to you, hypnotized by the sight of you grinding against him. He focuses instead on whatever sensations you are permitting him; the warmth of your skin, the wet heat of your pussy squeezing around his length, the squeeze of your palms around his knees. But it’s just not enough for him, not enough to fulfill his desire. He doesn’t want to waste time going slow—he wants to be completely and utterly consumed by the pleasures you provide him with. He can’t stand it a moment longer. In one swift movement he sits up and turns you both over, putting you on your back and pinning you beneath his weight.

For a moment, he simply stares at you, his gaze intense, as if he’s trying to etch the sight of you into his memory. His dark hair falls around his face, partially obscuring his vision, but he doesn’t seem to mind, his focus solely on you. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his voice barely more than a husky whisper, “I just…couldn’t wait any longer.”

You roll your eyes at his earnestness, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Just make this good,” you retort, a playful challenge laced in your words.

And that’s what he was going to do—he wants to be good for you, wants this to feel just as good for you as it does to him. He’s desperate to make you enjoy every second just as much as he does.

Choso’s hips slap against yours once—a single thrust already has you moaning, salivating at the sensation, nails digging into his skin for support, for something to anchor you.

“Fuck, Choso…” you manage to gasp out, your voice filled with raw desire.

Choso doesn’t respond verbally, instead, he forces himself deeper and deeper, driven by an insatiable hunger, captivated by the sensual sway of your hips, the tantalizing feel of your skin, and the addictive sensation of your clenching around his dick, finding himself overtaken by the primal urge to feel every inch of your body.

More. He craves more of everything you have to offer. He yearns to delve deeper, to explore every centimeter, every crevice of your body. He longs for a closeness so intimate, it would be as though you were momentarily conjoined as one person.

Choso begins to piston his hips with a purpose, each thrust a deliberate act of stretching you open further. The physical sensations that consume you both are no different than a potent drug, or an intoxicating elixir that fuels their connection. He fixates on the tight heat of your walls around his cock, the way your hips meet his rhythm, the delicious way you clench around him as his dick stretches your hole out.

“God…” Choso moans, unable to hide his pleasure. The sight of you before him is tantalizing, enough to strip him of any remaining self-control. The hunger in his gaze only intensifies, his eyes boring into you as he loses himself in the hypnotizing sight of your body. With a low growl, he pulls you down by your waist, his hips meeting yours in monstrous thrusts—his cock hits your sweet spot with precision repeatedly, each one eliciting a chorus of whimpers that echoed through the room, driving Choso towards the brink of madness.

His mind is filled with a single, overpowering thought - more. More, more, more is all he can think as his tip grazes your sweet spot, stealing those beautiful, salacious noises from your lips. Choso can barely focus anymore, can’t maintain his rhythm as he loses himself in you—you demand his concentration, demanding him to forget about everything else at this moment. And Choso succumbs to it all—the way your lips part every time you moan, each one a haunting melody that calls to him. The way your nails dig into his back, evidence of your passion imprinted on his skin. The way you writhe and surrender beneath him, the way your insatiable hole eagerly devours each of his thrusts - it all overwhelms his senses, controlling his every thought.

The rhythmic sound of your skin slapping against each other becomes a relentless symphony, a testament to your unyielding pleasure. Choso loses himself completely in you, completely drunk off of you—he just can’t help himself. You’re like a drug, impossible to resist once you get a hit. And you just looked so pretty beneath him, giving him the most captivating view of your body—pussy on full display, your eyes rolling back each time Choso hits your sweet spot. Every time Choso looks down at the naked body beneath him, his cock can’t help but throb, growing harder at the sight.

Choso can’t hold back any longer, his body reacting instinctively to the overload of pleasure. He lets out a contented sigh, his warm, creamy release flooding your pussy, filling you with his essence. Each pulsing jet of his cum stretches your walls, the sensation of being filled so completely driving you over the edge into your own orgasm.

He gradually slows down, each languid thrust of his hips causing his cock to pulse within you. His voice, husky and raw, breaks the silence. “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” His words trail off, his breath hitching in his throat.

Choso's body is slick with sweat, the muscles in his chest heave with each labored breath, his heart pounding against his rib cage. He closes his eyes, surrendering to the overwhelming sensations coursing through his veins, the pulsating warmth of his release still lingering within you.

Slowly, he collapses onto you, his body molding perfectly against yours as he holds you. His head finds rest in the crook of your neck, the tickling sensation of his soft hair against your skin sending a shiver down your spine. His arms wind tightly around your waist, pulling you closer against him, his fingertips lightly tracing patterns on your bare skin that leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The feeling sends a pleasant shiver down your spine—the soft sigh that escapes your lips draws his attention, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours. His gaze softens as he looks at you, lips curving into a gentle smile, his thumb brushing away a stray lock of hair from your face. His fingertips lightly trace the curve of your cheek, his gaze filled with a warmth that makes your heart flutter.

The gentleness of his touch, the warmth in his gaze, it paints a picture of a man different from the one you thought you knew—it's a side of him that you've never seen before, a side of him that he's only let you see this one night.

The gesture sends a warmth spreading through your chest, your heart fluttering at this moment of intimacy. Your heart swells in your chest, a warmth blossoming from within, spreading throughout your body. A smile tugs at your lips, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. You lean in, capturing his lips in a slow, sweet kiss, a shared moment of tenderness that leaves you both breathless.

But as you lay there, in his arms, you can't help but feel a sense of sadness creeping in. This shared intimacy, this closeness, it’s fleeting. It’s a one-night-only deal, a brief interlude in your otherwise separate lives. By morning, he wouldn’t call you until the next time he was in town. By morning, Choso would be back to his usual self, the man who seemed so distant, so unapproachable—the man who only surfaces in the dead of the night when he’s sick of being alone.

So, you draw him closer, nestling his head in the crook of your neck as you try to steady your erratic breathing. “It’s fine,” you assure him, your voice barely a whisper against his ear, “keep going.”

This is one night only, a stolen moment in time. And you intend to savor every second, to make each moment last as long as you can.

pls listen to one night only by sonder it's literally so good

[diremoone]

layers | geto/gojo.

— short story

you’re their favorite kouhai, everyone at tokyo and kyoto knows this. they also know that if anyone or anything were to touch or harm you in any way, they would feel the wrath of the most powerful duo. and one day, someone is dumb and foolish enough to do exactly that.

note(s): this isn’t a full complete drabble with a complete ending, but it’s something I’ve enjoyed writing. flop or no flop, this was a fun piece to write :D But tbh I’m thinking about deleting it and redoing it, or adding more. or maybe a part two lmao??

****

Trees were nothing but a blur of green to your vision. The car was going fast, way too fast for you to make out anything but the simple colors blue and green.

You blinked several times, shaking your head to keep yourself from dozing off. You were tired, so very very tired from such a long and exhausting two days of being on a First Grade mission that turned out to be a bigger issue and much more than it was worth.

They should’ve sent backup with me…

You leaned your head against the back of the backseat. You closed your eyes for just a moment, then opened them again for just a few seconds. The process was rinse and repeat; the only way to keep yourself awake.

Don’t fall asleep. Don’t fall asleep. Don’t… Just… don’t…

“Hang on, Miss [Last Name]!” frantically spoke the driver. He was probably looking in the rear view mirror, seeing you laying back on the seat with your eyes opening and closing. More so of the latter.

You heard the sound of a dial, then the voice of your driver hurriedly speaking into it. Problem was, you couldn’t understand a single word he was saying. It was all so… incoherent. Funny enough, it sounded like you were underwater.

Your head lolled to the side again, eyes half open with nothing but the same blur of green outside the window. Your hand was still over the wound, covering it with as much pressure as possible until you got to the school.

Unless you passed out first.

You could only imagine your upperclassmen holding this over your head as a joke for the rest of your life.

If you got to a medic in time, that is.

——————————

Everything had been fine. Just fine.

Great, in fact, he muses.

Him and Geto had been getting some ice cream to satisfy his sweet tooth, while Shoko complained that he was eating too much while munching away on her own ice cream like a damn hypocrite.

“What should we do now?” Shoko questioned.

“Might as well head back to the school,” Suguru suggested. “It is getting late and—”

“You’re no fun!!” Satoru complained. “Why are you so by the book?”

The black-haired male gives his childish friend a look of both amusement and exasperation. Of course Satoru was going to be like this. It was in his nature to be as anti-rules as possible. Especially if it meant pissing off the higher-ups.

“Alright, we’ll go—”

Shoko holds up a pointer finger to halt the conversation. “Aha, hold up guys. Sensei’s calling.”

“Maaaan! What now?” Satoru whines.

Just as the white-haired male goes to complain some more, he realizes Suguru’s expression changes. And that he’s not looking at him anymore — that he’s looking at Shoko now. So Satoru does the same, and now he sees his brunette friend’s face sheet white, eyes growing red like she’s about to start crying.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll be there.”

She clicks the phone off and looks to Geto, the whites of her eyes beginning to become red.

“Shoko?”

“We need to get back to the school. [Name]-chan’s hurt.”

The two males freeze, eyes going wider than saucers. But that reaction doesn’t last but two seconds, and Suguru’s pulling out his fastest Cursed Spirit he’s got and finishing the rest of the route back to school on it with his friends.

He and Satoru turn to look at one another, and Suguru knew his heart was the only one beating wildly in nothing but terror.

The three of them watched as the car pulled up; they landed as soon as the driver got out of the car.

Satoru’s and Suguru’s breaths hitched the second they landed beside the car.

Anger. Rage. Was there even a word to describe how they felt?

The red of your blood became the red of their rage — the red being the only color that they could see.

“Shoko, can—”

Her hand is already placed on your left side, her Reverse Cursed Energy pumping through your body. But the damage was done.

Your head rolled to the back of the seat, right hand limp on your stomach and left hand open, hanging loosely over the edge of the seat. Blood covered your palms, all the way up the inside of your forearms and up to the crook of your elbow.

And how pale your skin was. Was anyone supposed to be that shade of skin color? Of course it wasn’t. They knew that already. You weren’t supposed to ever be this way. Their adorable kouhai that was just too sweet and too nice for the world they lived in was never supposed to end up like this: sickly pale, blood pouring from the wound in your stomach and knocking on death’s door.

Shoko finishes healing you after what seems like forever. In reality, it’s only just a few minutes. But in those few minutes, both Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru come to a full understanding of something: they realize that you mean a lot more to them than just being their cute little kouhai. They can’t imagine you living in a world without you in it. Every thought of you not being there didn’t settle with them. They hated it. They weren’t able to envision coming to school without you passing by them in the halls. Seeing a world where they visited your headstone was unacceptable.

So many thoughts, so much anger, all accumulated within a matter of minutes that drives a permanent mark into their hearts and minds: that a world without you in it is not worth living in, and they love you too much to see anything else bad happen to you.

Suddenly, Yaga Sensei appears before them. Shoko moves out of the way so he can grab you, haul you into his arms and carry you to the infirmary where they have painkillers and other medicine. Shoko follows him, but Satoru and Suguru remain behind.

“Suguru?”

“Hm?”

“You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

“That we need to kill someone?”

“And that’s why you’re my best friend.”

———

Taglist: @vagabond-umlaut • @torusbabygoat

not the gojo x student reader you guys wanted ik ik but I wanted y’all to read this anyway so sue me 😭😭

[iamthesilentwriter]

Swimming Lessons

Harry Potter x Wolfstar!Daughter!Reader

Summary: You and Harry learn to swim, but that’s easier said than done – your fear of the water inhibits your ability to step into the pool. However, with the help of Sirius, you finally gather the courage to swim.  

Warnings: anxiety, brief panic attack, fear of the water, mentions of blood

Author's Note: Sorry for posting late! I got distracted studying for my Physics final lol. I enjoyed writing this fic and I hope you enjoy reading this.

Word Count: 4773

Navigation | Masterlist

You stand at the edge of the pool, toes curled against the warm tiles, but all you can focus on is the expanse of water in front of you. Harry’s bouncing on his toes beside you, excitement radiating off him, while your heart pounds in your chest. The pool seems so big, so deep.

“Come on, sweetheart! It’s fun, I’ll hold onto you the whole time,” James calls from the water, his arms outstretched toward you. His smile is wide and reassuring, but the thought of stepping into the pool makes your stomach twist.

Before you can protest, James reaches up and gently lifts you into his arms, just like he always does. “It’ll be okay,” he says as he steps toward the water, his voice soft and encouraging. “I’ve got you. You won’t even go under.”

The second his foot touches the water, your body locks up, tension shooting through your limbs. Your hands fly to his shoulders, gripping them tightly, your fingers digging into his skin as you cling to him. The pool feels impossibly deep as you look over his shoulder. The water looks like it’ll swallow you whole.

“N-no,” you whisper, your voice shaky as your heart races faster. “No, I don’t – I don’t want to.”

James continues walking toward the pool, gently reassuring you, but your panic starts to build. Your breath comes in shallow, rapid bursts as your mind races with thoughts of sinking, of not being able to touch the bottom, of the water pulling you under. The edges of your vision blur as fear tightens its grip on you.

“No!” you cry, your voice breaking as your fear spills over. You start squirming in James’s arms, desperately trying to get away from the water. “Please! Please, no! I don’t want to go in!” Tears flood your eyes, blurring your view of the pool as you begin to sob. “Please, don’t make me!” Your small hands grip his shoulders even tighter, trembling uncontrollably.

James stops immediately, concern flashing in his eyes as he feels your panic. “Okay, okay,” he says softly, his voice calm and soothing. He carefully steps away from the water and kneels at the pool’s edge, still holding you tightly against him. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to go in. I won’t make you. It’s alright.”

You sob against him, the panic still swirling in your chest, but his words start to reach you, grounding you just enough. James gently sets you down on the warm tiles by the pool, crouching beside you. He wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, his face full of concern. “No one’s going to make you, okay? You’re safe.”

You nod, sniffling, trying to calm your rapid breathing. But the fear still lingers, making your heart race.

Harry is already in the pool, wrapped in Lily’s arms as she bounces him gently through the water. He’s giggling uncontrollably, his face lit up with joy as Lily spins him around, sending splashes in every direction.

“Look, look!” Harry calls out, his laughter filling the air. “I’m swimming!” He kicks his legs wildly, water splashing up around him, and you watch as he laughs again, so carefree and happy.

James glances over at Harry and smiles softly before turning his attention back to you. “See? Harry’s having fun. When you’re ready, maybe you’ll have fun, too. But only when you’re ready.”

Harry, noticing your tear-streaked face, wriggles out of Lily’s arms and paddles toward the pool’s edge. “It’s okay,” he says with a grin, his small hand reaching out to pat yours as you sit frozen by the edge. “You can watch us, and maybe later we can swim together!”

His words are kind, but the fear still tugs at you, too strong to ignore. You nod again, biting your lip as you try to smile back. Watching Harry swim so easily, splashing and giggling in the water, only makes the pool seem even scarier. You hug your knees to your chest, unable to tear your eyes away from the deep, blue water.

James ruffles your hair gently. “Hey, no pressure. We can try again another time. You’re doing great just being here.” His voice is soft, soothing, and it eases some of the tension in your chest.

Lily waves from the pool with a warm smile, still holding onto Harry as he kicks and splashes. “You’re welcome to join us whenever you feel ready!” she says cheerfully, her voice light and encouraging. "But no rush. We’re just happy to have you here.”

You feel Harry’s hand gently squeeze yours again. “I’ll stay with you, okay?” he says. “We can watch Mum swim together.” You nod, taking a deep breath, the panic slowly starting to fade with the comforting presence of James beside you and Harry by your side. The water still seems so big, but with them here, it doesn’t feel quite as terrifying anymore.

The morning sun glows bright and warm, but the coolness of the water sends a shiver up your spine. Lily crouches beside you with bright, colourful floaties in her hands, her voice soft and reassuring as she slips them onto your arms. “These will help you float,” she says, adjusting them gently. “You’ll feel safe with them.”

Harry, already bouncing excitedly beside you, grins as his own floaties puff around his arms. “Look at me!” he exclaims, racing toward the shallow end. Without a second thought, he jumps into the water with a splash. “It’s so fun! Come on, you have to try!” His laughter echoes as he kicks his legs, floating easily.

You watch him, your stomach tight with anxiety. The way the water moves unsettles you, its ripples unpredictable. You take a hesitant step toward the pool, dipping your toes in, the chill creeping up your spine. It’s colder than you expected, and you pull back, biting your lip.

Remus kneels beside you, his presence grounding, his voice steady and kind. “You don’t have to rush, love,” he says softly. “We’re right here. Just go at your own pace.”

Encouraged by his words, you take another step into the water, feeling it rise around your ankles. But as it reaches your knees, panic flares in your chest. The moment the floaties touch the surface, they lift your arms awkwardly, making you feel unsteady. The sensation of being buoyed without control grips you, and suddenly, all you can imagine is sinking beneath the surface.

Your breath catches, and before you realize it, you scramble out of the pool, slipping slightly as you pull yourself onto the edge. Your heart races, your whole body trembling as tears stream down your face.

Harry notices immediately, stopping his splashing to swim to the edge, his face full of concern. “Are you okay?” he asks, pulling himself out of the water. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You can’t answer, your breaths coming in shaky gasps.

Remus is there in an instant, scooping you up with care, wrapping you in a soft towel. He holds you close, your small body trembling against his. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” he murmurs, gently stroking your hair. “You’re okay now. I’ve got you.”

You cling to him, burying your face in his shoulder, trying to calm down. “I’m scared,” you whisper, your tears soaking into his shirt.

“I know, love,” Remus replies, his voice full of understanding. “It’s okay to be scared. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Lily kneels beside you, her hand resting on your back. “You were so brave for trying,” she says gently. “You don’t have to swim if you’re not ready. We’ll be here whenever you want to try again.”

Harry, still hovering nearby, looks guilty as he fidgets with his floaties. “I didn’t mean to make you scared,” he says quietly, his eyes full of worry. “I just thought it’d be fun.”

“It’s not your fault, Harry,” Remus reassures him, adjusting you slightly in his arms. “She just needs more time, that’s all.”

You nod against Remus’s shoulder, still shaking but starting to feel safer. His hand continues to rub gentle circles on your back, and slowly, your breathing begins to even out. The warmth of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart calm you, little by little.

Harry sits down beside you, his hand resting lightly on your arm. “We can try again later,” he offers. “Only when you’re ready, I promise.”

You give a small nod, comforted by the support around you, knowing that when the time comes, they’ll be there to help you.

It’s late afternoon, the sun casting a warm golden light over the backyard, but all you can focus on is the sound of Harry’s laughter echoing through the air. James and Lily are in the pool, playing a game with Harry where they dip him under the water, just for a moment, and then lift him back up. Harry giggles wildly every time, water droplets flying off him as he splashes and kicks.

“Again, again!” Harry shouts, his eyes sparkling with joy as James lifts him up, then quickly dunks him under before pulling him back up. He bursts out of the water, laughing uncontrollably, tiny waves rippling around him.

You stand a few feet away on the pool deck, your toes just barely brushing the edge of the water. You’re watching them, your heart thumping nervously in your chest. It looks fun – Harry’s having so much fun – but the thought of being dipped into the water, of going under even for a second, sends a wave of anxiety through you.

“Come on!” Harry calls out to you, grinning from ear to ear. He splashes toward you, water droplets hitting your legs. “It’s so fun, I promise! You can do it, too! I’ll hold your hand!” He reaches out to you, his small, wet hand extended, waiting for you to take it.

You swallow hard, staring at his hand. He’s your best friend, and he’s smiling so brightly, so sure you’ll love it. Your heart pounds as you take a small step closer to the pool, your eyes flicking to the water and back to Harry. The water ripples around him, not deep, but deep enough for you.

“See?” Harry says, his voice full of excitement. “It’s just like going under and popping back up. It’s fun, I promise. We can do it together!”

Your hand twitches, wanting to reach for his, but as you step closer to the edge, your mind races. You imagine the water closing over your head, feeling the cool pressure around you, your feet unable to touch the bottom. You imagine yourself sinking, lost in the water with no control, the surface feeling so far away.

Your breath catches in your throat, and a sharp pang of fear strikes you. The image of being completely submerged flashes in your mind, overwhelming you, and without thinking, you scream.

“No!” The word bursts from your lips as you stumble backward, fear gripping your chest like a vice. Your feet catch on the edge of the pool deck, and before you know it, you fall back onto the hard tiles with a thud, your eyes wide, heart racing.

“Sweetheart!” James’s voice is filled with concern as he wades through the water toward you, his movements quick and careful. Lily gasps, her hands reaching for Harry, who looks stunned by your reaction.

You sit there, trembling, your breathing shallow and fast. Tears prick the corners of your eyes as the fear coils tighter in your chest, making it hard to catch your breath.

Lily pulls herself out of the pool and crouches beside you, her hand gently resting on your shoulder. “It’s okay,” she says softly, her voice calm and soothing. “You’re safe. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

James is beside you now, crouching down to your level, his eyes full of worry. “Hey, it’s alright. No one’s going to make you go in. You’re okay,” he reassures you, his voice low and gentle.

You’re shaking, your hands trembling as you pull your knees to your chest. Harry’s laughter is gone now, replaced with a guilty frown. He steps out of the pool slowly, water dripping off him, and he looks at you with wide, sad eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, his voice small and regretful. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought it would be fun…” He shuffles his feet, his head hanging low as he stands in front of you, clearly upset that he’s frightened you.

You shake your head, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. You want to tell him it’s not his fault, that you just got scared, but the words won’t come out. You just keep trembling, the image of the water swallowing you whole still too vivid in your mind.

Lily rubs your back gently, her hand warm and comforting. “Why don’t we take a little break?” she suggests kindly, her voice soft and calm. “How about we go inside and have some ice cream? We can try again another time when you’re ready.”

James nods in agreement, still kneeling beside you. “That sounds like a good idea,” he says, giving you a small smile. “We’ll have a nice break and forget all about swimming for now. What do you say?”

You manage a small nod, still feeling shaky but grateful for the kindness surrounding you. Harry steps closer and offers you his hand again, this time not to lead you into the water, but just to hold.

“Can we still sit together?” Harry asks, his eyes full of concern. “I won’t do anything scary; I promise.”

You take his hand, and even though the pool is still behind you, the fear begins to fade as the promise of ice cream and the warmth of your friends make everything feel a little bit better.

The sky is streaked with soft hues of orange and pink as the sun sinks lower, casting a warm glow over the backyard. The air feels cooler now, the heat of the day fading into the early evening, and the pool, bathed in the fading sunlight, looks more inviting. Dinner is over, and the quiet sounds of water lapping against the edges of the pool fill the air.

You sit on the pool’s edge, your legs dangling into the water, the coolness licking at your toes. The water ripples gently, but to you, it still feels vast, endless – too big. Your chest tightens with a familiar wave of anxiety, your heart pounding faster as you nervously kick your feet, the small splashes doing nothing to ease the tension building inside.

Lily crouches beside you, her smile warm and reassuring as she hands you a pair of bright, colourful water wings. “These will help keep you above the water, sweetie,” she says softly, her voice gentle as she slides the inflatable wings onto your arms. “They’ll help you float, see? You won’t go under.”

You glance down at the water wings, feeling the slight pressure on your arms, but it doesn’t chase away the worry knotting in your stomach. You want to believe her, you want to trust that you won’t sink, but as you stare at the water, the familiar fear bubbles up again. It feels too deep, too overwhelming.

In the pool, Remus is waiting, his arms outstretched and a patient smile on his face. “I’m right here,” he says, his voice calm and steady. “I’ll catch you if you decide to get in. You’re safe, I promise.”

You look at him, your feet still in the water, feeling the coolness against your skin. His presence is comforting – he’s always made you feel safe – but even with him waiting, the water seems too big, too unpredictable. What if you slip? What if you can’t get back up?

Your feet stop kicking, and you slowly pull them out of the water, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. The water wings feel silly now, like they can’t protect you from how overwhelming the pool feels. You shake your head, a lump forming in your throat as you try to swallow the fear. But it’s too strong, and you can’t push past it.

“I… I can’t,” you whisper, your voice small and shaky. You squeeze your arms tighter around yourself, as if trying to hold the anxiety inside.

Remus swims closer, his face full of understanding. He doesn’t push you or tell you that you have to try. Instead, he just nods, his gentle smile never fading. “That’s okay,” he says softly, his voice carrying over the quiet evening air. “You don’t have to get in if you’re not ready. We can try again when you feel more comfortable.”

You nod, relief flooding through you, even as your heart still pounds. The fear is still there, but knowing you don’t have to face it tonight eases some of the tension in your chest.

Lily pats your shoulder gently, standing up beside you. “We’ll leave it for now,” she agrees, her smile kind. “Whenever you’re ready, we’ll be here.”

You glance back at the pool, the water still rippling softly in the evening light. It doesn’t seem as scary with Remus and Lily here, but the thought of slipping under is still too much for you right now.

You breathe out slowly, watching as Remus climbs out of the pool, shaking the water from his hair. He smiles at you again, and this time, you manage a small smile back.

Maybe tomorrow you’ll feel brave enough to try again. But for now, you’re okay just sitting by the edge, with your feet dry and your heart a little less heavy.

The afternoon sun beats down, warm and inviting, casting a golden shimmer over the surface of the pool. The water looks so peaceful, so still, and you can hear Harry’s giggles as he splashes around, completely at ease in the water. He’s been swimming for what feels like hours, and you’ve been watching from the edge, unsure. The pool sparkles, but to you, it feels like it’s pulling you in – too deep, too dangerous.

Harry calls out to you from the water, “Come on, it’s fun! You can do it!” He laughs, waving at you, his small hands splashing water everywhere.

You take a hesitant step closer to the edge, your heart pounding in your chest. Maybe this time, maybe today, you’ll be brave enough. You inch closer, toes barely touching the slick tiles, eyes fixed on the rippling water.

Then it happens – your foot slips.

Your heart jumps into your throat as your legs give way. You try to catch yourself, but the edge is wet, and your hands miss their grip. You pitch forward, panicked, your arms flailing as you desperately try to regain balance. Your heart is pounding so loud it’s deafening, and you can feel the cold water getting closer – too close.

At the last second, you catch yourself on the edge, scraping your hands and knees as you pull back with a gasp. You collapse onto the pool deck, your whole body shaking, tears already streaming down your face. Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps, and you can’t stop the sobs that escape your throat. It’s too much – it feels like you’re drowning, even though you’re not in the water.

Harry is out of the pool in an instant, rushing over to you, his face full of worry. “Are you okay?” he asks, dropping to his knees beside you, his wet hands grabbing your shoulder. “What happened?”

But you can’t answer. You’re crying too hard, your chest tightening with every breath, and the world feels like it’s closing in around you. The water, the fear, it’s all too much. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. You just keep shaking, your palms and knees stinging from the scrapes.

Lily is suddenly at your side, her hands soft and warm as she cups your cheeks, forcing you to look at her. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she murmurs gently, her voice soothing. “You’re alright. Just breathe with me, okay? In and out.”

Her voice cuts through the panic, and you try to match your breathing to hers, but it’s hard. You feel so small, so scared.

“There you go,” she whispers, rubbing your back softly. “Nice and slow. You’re safe. It’s alright.”

Gradually, your breathing slows, and the world starts to come back into focus. But your hands and knees are stinging, and when you glance down, you see red scrapes all over them, little beads of blood forming. You whimper, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Oh, love,” Lily sighs, noticing the scrapes. “Let’s get that fixed up, shall we? You’re okay. We’ll patch you up in no time.”

She gently guides you to sit up, brushing the hair out of your face. Harry is still by your side, his brow furrowed with concern. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, his voice small. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shake your head, wiping at your eyes with shaky hands. “I-It’s not your fault,” you manage to whisper, but your voice is shaky too. The fear is still there, bubbling under the surface.

Lily presses a kiss to your temple. “You don’t have to swim if you don’t want to,” she reassures you softly. “Being afraid of the water is okay. You’re not alone in that. And being scared? That’s a good thing sometimes – it keeps us safe.”

Harry, his eyes still wide with concern, runs off to grab the first aid kit, and Lily sits with you, holding your hand, her calm presence steadying you. “It’s okay to be afraid of swimming,” she continues, her voice low and comforting. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

When Harry comes back with the first aid kit, Lily smiles at him and takes it from his hands, carefully patching up the scrapes on your knees and palms. “See? All better,” she says with a warm smile, bandaging your scrapes gently. “You’re so brave, you know that?”

Once she’s finished, she picks you up, cradling you close as she walks over to one of the lounge chairs. She sits down with you in her lap, your small body still trembling slightly from the lingering fear. But her arms around you feel safe, and the pool doesn’t seem as scary from here.

Together, the two of you watch Harry return to the water, laughing and splashing like nothing ever happened. Lily strokes your hair, her voice soft as she reassures you again. “There’s no rush, love. You’ll get there when you’re ready. And when you are, we’ll be right here with you.”

You rest your head on her shoulder, still feeling small and shaken, but a little safer now, watching Harry play in the water from the comfort of her arms.

The late afternoon sun casts a golden glow over the pool, its rays softening as they stretch across the water like liquid gold. The gentle splashing of Remus, Lily, and James echoes through the air, mingling with the warm breeze. Their voices drift toward you, each word laced with encouragement.

“Come on, love,” your dad calls, his tone light and full of hope. “Just one last try before the day ends. You’ve got it.”

Lily’s smile is bright as the sunlight. “You’ve done so well. Just a little more,” she says, waving you over.

James, ever the playful one, splashes water in your direction with a teasing grin. “We believe in you!”

But their words, no matter how kind, feel like stones sinking in your stomach. You glance at the water, the way it ripples and glistens, but all you see is how deep it is, how overwhelming. The pressure swells in your chest, and the familiar tightness of fear begins to creep in. You don’t move.

Instead, you slip away from the pool's edge, quietly turning your back to the water. No one notices as you pad over to the shaded area where your daddy – Sirius – sits alone on a lounge chair, watching everyone with his thoughtful, distant gaze. He hasn’t gone near the water all day, and somehow, you find comfort in that.

You stand beside him, unsure of how to start, so you simply ask, “Daddy?”

Sirius looks up from his thoughts, his face softening the moment he sees you. That familiar smile spreads across his lips – the one that always makes you feel like everything is going to be okay. “Hey, little one,” he says gently, his voice like a warm embrace. “What’s going on?”

You hesitate, then glance toward the pool. “Why aren’t you swimming?”

He tilts his head, his smile growing just a bit, like he’s been waiting for you to ask that very question. “Sometimes, I don’t feel like it,” he replies, shifting his gaze to the water. “The water can be a little scary, can’t it?”

You nod, the tension in your chest easing ever so slightly. It feels good to be understood. You glance at the pool again, your earlier fears still lingering, but quieter now.

Sirius pats the chair next to him, and you sit down. “You know,” he begins, leaning in a little, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret, “when I was a kid, I was terrified of swimming.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “You?”

He chuckles softly, nodding. “Oh yeah. I always thought the water would pull me under. I was sure of it. Every time I tried to swim; I was convinced it was too big, too deep.”

You can’t help but stare at him, at how brave you’ve always thought he was. Your daddy, afraid of something as simple as water?

“But the more I practiced,” he continues, his voice steady and calm, “the less scary it felt. The fear didn’t go away all at once, but it got smaller, little by little.” He turns to you, his expression warm and full of understanding. “It’s okay to be afraid. We all are sometimes. But you don’t have to do it alone.”

You bite your lip, feeling the knot of anxiety begin to loosen. “What if… what if the water pulls me under?”

Sirius’ smile softens even more. He stands, offering his hand. “It won’t. Not with me here. I promise.”

With a deep breath, you take his hand. Together, you walk back toward the pool, the sky now painted in hues of pink, purple, and gold. The air is cooler, but with Sirius beside you, the evening feels safe. The pool doesn’t seem as frightening as it did moments ago.

Sirius kneels down next to the water, lifting you gently under your arms and guiding you until your feet leave the ground. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice steady as his hands hold you up. “Just relax.”

You feel the water lap against your skin, cool but not overwhelming. The panic that usually rises in your chest doesn’t come this time. Instead, you focus on Sirius’ warm presence. His hands are steady, keeping you afloat, and for the first time, you don’t feel like the water is trying to pull you down.

You look up at him, and he’s smiling down at you, pride shining in his eyes. “See?” he whispers, like it’s a secret just for you. “You’re doing it. We’re doing it together.”

A small smile tugs at your lips, and for the first time all day, the fear feels… manageable. Slowly, cautiously, you let go of Sirius’ hand, testing the water on your own. You paddle tentatively, your movements slow and unsure, but the fear no longer controls you.

Sirius stays close, his eyes never leaving you. He’s ready to catch you if you need him, but he gives you the space to move on your own. His quiet pride is clear in every glance, in every soft smile.

From the pool, you hear cheers. Remus’s voice carries first, warm and excited. “That’s it, sweetheart!”

Lily’s laughter follows, and James is practically shouting with enthusiasm. “Look at you go!”

But you barely hear them. It’s Sirius’ soft, proud smile that stays with you, the one that tells you everything you need to know. You did it. You both did it, together.

As you paddle a bit further, the water no longer feels like an enemy. It feels like freedom. You glance back at Sirius, and he’s still there, watching you with that same quiet smile, his pride like a steady heartbeat, always there to guide you.