#yes i wrote this in one day and did nothing else

[ldydeath]

I'm Still Waiting | Kwon Ji-yong (G-Dragon)

Summary: You and Jiyong have always toed the line between friends and more than, but you can’t seem to take the plunge and actually be with him. So he waits. Word Count: 1.3k Warnings: Mentions of cheating (not by reader or Jiyong), some angst, some fluff Author’s Note: I wasn’t going to write anything this week but as I was looking through requests I stumbled across this one and the inspo hit hard. This is based on a Tate McRae song called Greenlight. Enjoy <3

When you first met Jiyong you’d both been in relationships, a tragedy really because there’d been instant sparks. You were both too good to ever act on it. You’d stayed friends over the years though. Rooting for each other and supporting each others successes in life. 

Despite the sparks, you’d gotten engaged to someone else. You’d been with him for years, it  just made sense. Besides, Jiyong was in a committed relationship too, and he seemed happy. Until one day he’d texted you that they’d broken up.

You’d been knee deep in wedding plans when you’d gotten the news and had rushed to his side. You’d supported him through his breakup. You never crossed that line though. No matter how much you wanted to. His heart was broken, and yours belonged to someone else. 

Jiyong had smiled at your wedding, danced with you like a friend when he’d always wanted more. Was on good terms with your husband. He would love you from afar if that was all he was allowed to have. 

But then the affair happened. Jiyong saw red. How could he cheat on you? Jiyong had shown up unannounced and punched him in the face. You’d followed him out, explained to him that couldn’t happen again. You loved him. You’d change for him if it meant he wouldn’t do it again. 

Jiyong didn’t get it. He loved you. He would never take advantage of you like that, never cheat, never ask you to change. Why couldn’t you see how great you were? He just smiled and nodded though, let you go after what you wanted.

It happened again a few months later and you filed for divorce. Jiyong offered his home to you, but you declined. You couldn’t live with him. It wouldn’t be right. So he’d helped you move into an apartment down the street. And he hoped. 

“I appreciate you helping me, Ji. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You hugged him as he sat the last box down in the kitchen. 

“You never have to thank me. There’s no place else I’d ever be.” He grinned. “Should we get dinner?” 

You nodded and he led you out of the house. Dinner was more flirty than it had ever been. Now that you were both single there was nothing stopping either of you. That spark from years ago was still there, not that it had ever faded. You heart longed for him. And so when he walked you home and leaned in for a kiss, you didn’t stop him. You kissed him back like you’d been craving him for years. 

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“You think you’ll ever want to take that next step?”

It had been months of this game. Dinners, movie nights, kisses. But you hadn’t committed to him. Every time you thought it was about to happen you would chicken out. 

“Yeah. I just, I’m not ready yet.” You shrugged, giving him an apologetic smile. 

He nodded like he always did when you gave this answer. Jiyong didn’t understand why you couldn’t just jump in with him, but he would never pressure you. When you were ready, he’d be ready. He could wait. 

Another month passed and Jiyong was officially going crazy. He’d done everything he could think of. Even wrote a song about you, his eyes on yours the entire time he sang it when he debuted it at a show. Taken you to all your favorite stops along his tour. You still weren’t ready. He was running out of ways to show you how much he loved you, how much happier he could make you than anyone else. 

“Ji, you didn’t!” You practically jumped into his arm when he presented the tickets. 

“Of course I did. They’re your favorite band, right?” 

“Yes! Thank you, oh my god!” You squealed before leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I love you!” The words were out before you could take them back. 

Jiyong stilled in your arms and you leaned back to look at him, wide eyed. He never thought front row to your favorite band would be what made you crack, but here you were. 

“You do?” He was hopefully, almost too hopeful and you nodded.

“Yeah, but I’m not ready.” You sighed, pulling away from him. 

“Why not?” You paused, turning to face him. This was off script, but you guessed you started that. 

“We were together for a long time, Ji. He hurt me really bad. I’m not ready to get my heart broken again. And what if we don’t work out? I just lose my best friend? I can’t do that.” 

“But what if we do work out?” He moved to stand by you, “I love you I would never do what he did. I think we could end up being something beautiful.” 

You let out a sigh, it was too much. Your feelings for him had always been too much. You’d always known he’d loved you, but hearing it out loud was doing something to you. 

“Ji, I don’t know.” 

“Give me a chance.” 

“I’m scared.” 

“Me too.” 

You almost caved, you almost said yes. You wanted to say yes. He was giving you everything you needed but you still couldn’t pull the trigger. As if reading your mind, Jiyong just nodded, a sad smile on his face. 

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As time went on, Jiyong still tried. Not as hard as he used to, but he couldn’t help how he felt about you. The time you spent together was always the best, it made you feel alive in ways you hadn’t before. Made you wish you weren’t so afraid to let him be more than that. 

And then one night, it finally happened. You’d been out for drinks and a girl had hit on him right in front of you. Jiyong being the shy guy he was had laughed it off but she’d been persistent. He’d bought her a drink, offered to let her hang out with you guys. She’d been flirty the whole night. You stayed in the car as Jiyong walked her to her doorstep, watched in agony as he placed a kiss on her cheek, smiled at her before she walked in her house.

“What was that?” He’d hardly made it back in the car before you were fuming. 

“I was making sure she got home safe, it’s called being nice.” He shrugged. 

“Jiyong, please. She was flirting with you all night.” You sighed leaning back in the seat. 

“Was she?” His brows raised. “I didn’t realize.” He turned to face you. 

“Yeah, well she was.” You folded your arms with a pout. “And You were flirting back.”

“I was not.” He snorted. “I told you I wouldn’t do that to you and I meant it. Believe me, I only have eyes for you no matter how painful it might be.” 

“I’m sorry.” You sighed, looking at him. “I don’t know why I can’t just let myself be with you. I want to, I really do. I just…can’t.” 

“Ever?” 

“I hope not. But if you don’t want to wait for me, I get it.” You nudged him, “Maybe you shouldn’t.” 

“I’d wait for you forever.” 

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. There was something about the vulnerability in his voice that made you want to jump off the deep end and finally give into this whole thing. You’d find a way to make it work, right? 

You moved in closer, your lips brushing against his softly. His mouth moved against yours, his arms finding their way to you as he pulled you closer. You’d done this a million times but today it felt different. Like a promise instead of a no. 

“We try.” You whispered as you pulled away, your forehead resting against his. 

“We try.” He nodded, a small smile on his face.

He’d waited years for this, but he knew he needed to move slow if he didn’t want to lose you. He vowed to never make you feel the way your ex did, he’d protect your heart for the rest of his life. He’d already been doing it for all these years anyway.

tag list: @wcnderlnds @infinetlyforgotten @berfgrimm @aizshallnotbefound @loveesiren @gdinthehouseee @tulentiy @petersasteria @ttturnitup @flymetothexmoon @mashtatosworld @alosss-blog @sooyasya @dprvivi @mirahyun @breakmeoff @1950schick @sherrayyyyy @bettelaboure @allthoughtsmindfull

[remyfire]

For the kinkfic thing. power imbalance and breeding for uh. Charbeej plz. :-D

(prompts now closed) (Okay so this is a lot of breeding kink, a little power imbalance, and though it is charbeej on the page, both beejhawk and charbeejhawk wiggled their way into it, and I really hope that's okay!! It's also 6.4k I'm very sorry—)

"Aaaaaaall right, Winchester," BJ trills as he sweeps into the Swamp and sets the lock behind him. Now that necessary arrangements have been made for privacy, he's got a certain spring in his step, a song in both his heart and his dick. "Here we go. You ready?"

Charles looks up suspiciously from his desk where he's cross-referencing something in a book to the notes he's taking. "I haven't the faintest idea what you mean."

BJ drops the tent flaps in one quick rush, then strides over to slap his hands on Charles's shoulders. "That's never stopped you from offering your opinion before, so why start now?" When Charles tries to look back at his work, BJ cradles his cheek and steers him right back around. "You can do that later."

"For heaven's sake." Along with a particularly overexaggerated roll of his eyes, Charles's lips rise up in a snarl that does nothing more than bring tingles of anticipation down BJ's spine. "Hunnicutt, are you sure you haven't taken a tumble recently? Banged your forehead on something? It's quite a large target." He makes a show of shrewdly considering it, all the while ignoring how BJ's beginning to smirk. "Can't imagine any other reason why you appear to be mistaking me with Pierce."

"I'm not making a mistake," BJ murmurs in a low, sweetly rotten tone.

"He's the one you, ah, sully around with, you know." Charles goes on as though he didn't hear BJ say a word. "Little whimsical pet practically slobbering for the chance to do your bidding."

As BJ tightens his grip around Charles's soft jaw until he feels the bones stabbing into his fingertips, Charles finally goes silent and flicks his gaze back up. "Charles," BJ breathes. "Put your pen down. And take your pants off."

Clack. The pen's rolling across the desk before BJ even realizes that Charles opened his hand. They share a long, silent stare where he gets to watch how Charles's brow furrows, the quick analyses occurring behind his eyes.

Honestly, BJ gets it. He wasn't wrong, bringing up Hawkeye like that. Usually BJ and Hawk are rolling around together in a cot, trying to get a rise out of Charles across the room, and in the few circumstances where they've actually seen a response—the heat on the back of his neck or the faint wiggling of his restless leg—they've slipped off the mattress like sirens, finding their way to him, meeting his sharp-edged banter with teasing words of their own. It's just an extension of the rhythm they've all ended up in, the games they like to play. Inevitably they all end with Hawkeye as a ruined mess of some kind while BJ and Charles study each other, still panting as they recover from their own release.

This is the way of things nowadays. Since BJ and Hawk are finally over the first nervous hurdles of trying not to fuck things up, BJ gets to take what he wants from an extremely enthusiastic Hawkeye practically whenever he chooses to do so. Charles, meanwhile, has to be all but forcibly dragged in on a casual basis regardless of the fact that he so clearly desires their time. There are times when BJ doesn't think it's even the sex that Charles craves, though the man's certainly never complained about an orgasm. Maybe it's the easy possession. Hawk will drop into BJ's lap, or BJ will pet through Hawk's hair and scratch his scalp during a normal conversation, or Hawk will mold himself around BJ's back and grope him with a hungry groan without so much as a hello. They're open to each other. They're always around to offer support, love, comfort, and passion. Charles seems to need to wait until he's about to burst before he so much as asks if one of them will have a serious conversation with him.

BJ doesn't know if he'd call it jealousy. Just a longing that appears to humiliate Charles. No wonder he needs to be surrounded and caught before he'll let all of his muscles unclench.

Charles finally takes a deep breath. "Should I presume Pierce will be arriving shortly?"

"No," BJ murmurs. "I don't see you going for your pants."

"I don't see a reason why I should," Charles counters.

"How about because I'm gonna fuck you?" BJ leans close and bumps their noses together. "Or how about because I said so?"

No matter what Charles tries to hide from them, he can't conceal that flush of his. His clean, pure, pretty blue blood does so love to betray him in moments like this.

Despite himself, BJ feels heat rush straight into his cock.

"Y'know, I've noticed something about you," BJ murmurs. He shrugs on a warmer tone like a robe, watches how Charles instantly goes for his belt. "You're really not a joiner, huh?"

"Difficult to find one's way into anything when there's not an inch of room," Charles counters. He doesn't sound hurt, exactly, or even sullen, but there's an edge in his voice all the same, and BJ files it away.

BJ shrugs, pursing his lips. "I mean, you could ask for somebody to move over, couldn't you?"

Charles finally breaks free from his grasp. He pushes his chair back with a loud scrape as he takes care of his trousers, then folds them perfectly with not a wrinkle to be seen. With his attention so focused on the task, he either doesn't think to or chooses not to reply.

"I don't know. It's just interesting. Sometimes I'll look over and you're holding yourself back by a thread." BJ chuckles like this is a meaningless conversation. Charles doesn't have to see the keen, smug expression he wants to wear. Not yet. "Like last week, y'know? Hawk and I are in my bunk. I've practically got his ankles behind his ears. He's ready to cry, he wants it so bad. Begging for it. Begging to be bred." Just like that, BJ flicks his gaze up, watches how Charles freezes. Yeah. There you are. BJ finds Charles's hip with one broad hand. As he slips his fingertips under the hem of his shirt, Charles drapes his trousers over the back of his desk chair, then grabs on tightly. "You don't have to be shy about it. I know you've got your thing. You need a son and all that, don't you?"

"I don't see why that's any of your business," Charles mutters, but unfortunately for him, he's starting to tap his foot rapidly on the ground.

"Aw, simmer down, Chuck." BJ moves into him, rests his chin on his shoulder, and lets his fingers continue to wander around to his front. "It's just some fun, yeah? Not that serious."

"Maybe not t—" Charles cuts off in a shiver as BJ shapes his palm right over his round belly. This is where it gets interesting. Hawkeye's easy by his own admission. He'll drop to his knees with little more than a look. But Charles turns his head, face so close that it's blurry, and speaks quite softly, one even tone. "Are you making a mockery of my duty?"

BJ chews on his bottom lip and considers the game here. "No," he finally says with a spreading smile. "C'mon, I wouldn't do that. I'm fetishizing it."

"Y— Excuse me?" Charles's brows shoot toward the sky. He gapes for a few moments before he scoffs. "Only you would take such a noble act as continuing one's bloodline and turn it into nothing but fodder for your perverse entertainment," he snaps.

Uh-huh. BJ takes in how red the apples of his cheeks are. "Not only me. Hawkeye too."

"Of course," he drawls, flicking his gaze away.

"So here's what I figure. You and me both know what kind of guy Hawkeye is." BJ considers further still. He could demean their bunkie, call him a slut—nine times out of ten, that gets Hawk dripping, so it's not like he'd be insulting him—but Hawkeye's not at the middle of this. The only thing he's doing is making sure nobody's gonna come bother the Swamp. No, right now he's just a segue, and one that BJ's happy to deploy. "So if there's a quiet little sector of your brain that gets turned on thinking about getting somebody in the family way, you already understand that all you've gotta do is walk across the tent and tell me to scooch, and I'll be happy to let you breed him. Joining of forces, right? With two of us at it, it's gotta take."

Charles inhales deeply, only just barely audible. He hasn't tried to move away. And when BJ begins thumbing a slow circle through the coarse hairs on his belly, all he does is breathe a touch faster.

"But yeah, no, you're right, you wouldn't do that. Not since the mumps. It stresses you out too much to think you might not be able to get the job done anymore."

"Hunnicutt, I'm warning you," Charles mutters.

When BJ rocks his hips forward, Charles freezes, fingers kneading the back of the chair. BJ grinds just the once more, simply making absolutely sure that Charles can feel how hard he is. That he knows this isn't a dig. Only a game. One that he's very enthusiastic about participating in.

He likes doing things like this, shifting into almost a variant of himself. BJ Hunnicutt—intensely devoted father, holding himself together by braided strings of hope that he'll make it home before Erin's childhood has passed him by—everyone knows who that is. But this is like shrugging on a coat, or perhaps shrugging it off instead. He can feel his voice getting a little more musical, a touch sharper, can find the sincere ache inside of himself and coax out its shadow. For him, it's a harmless perversion that lets him take a step backward when the walls are closing in. But he rather wonders if there's subversion that's about to rise from under his fingertips.

"Then I realized that it doesn't relax that stress at all, playing at getting Hawk pregnant." As he touches his lips to Charles's ear, he pulls him back so there's not a millimeter between them. "You'd rather somebody else do all the work of making sure the Winchester heir takes."

BJ can practically hear Charles's brain explode into a million simultaneous thoughts. He gets it. He knows a little something about shoving shit down so it can't even bleed through the cracks. There's something massive under all that noise that's aching to get out. BJ's just enough of a curious bastard to wonder what might happen if it does.

"Get these off too." BJ drags his hand down and tugs at the waistband of Charles's underwear. "Then lie in the bed."

He doesn't wait to see if Charles is going to argue or obey, just walks back to his side of the Swamp to unlock his truck and shove it open. He finds the tub of lubricant right away; as long as the trunk's locked, it's not as though he needs to hide it any more than that. In fact, he needs it easily accessible for those nights when Hawkeye has him ripping his own clothes off to have him as soon as possible. But BJ takes his time, moving items here and there, making noise, then stalling further still by unlacing his boots, acting as though his own blood's not boiling with a certain hunger of his own. It's tender with Hawk, playing this game. Charles is different.

Behind him, a cot creaks, and BJ takes a long, deep breath to steady himself. He snatches up the tub and impulsively snags a condom packet, practically slams the trunk shut, and stands before he kicks his boots off. When he turns back around, he drinks in the sight of Charles in his cot, under his blanket, up on his elbows so the impersonal fabric is at rest around his waist. His trousers may be neatly draped over the back of his chair, but both his boxers and, unrequested, his shirt are in a pile on the floor right where BJ had left him. He's waiting. Waiting for BJ. Wanting him to call the shots.

It's enough to make a man want to tip away from his logical mind, find himself somewhere feral instead.

BJ's made the particulars of how he inhabits his body into an art form. He shot up too tall too fast, filled out his shoulders before any of the other kids in his class. It was vital that he learn to move like water, fluid and flowing, never threatening. It softens him. But right now he thinks about some of the other jocks in his fraternity house, how they would cut through a room in such a way to have people scrambling to give them space. The tough guys. He centers his mind on it, and only then does he saunter toward Charles's cot. He doesn't have to look at Charles's face to know he's suddenly rougher at the edges, maybe even a little intimidating, but it's gratifying all the same, watching him takes in BJ from head to toe while the slight lift beneath the blanket becomes more and more prominent with each passing second.

BJ comes to a stop right by him, and as much as he wants to dive in headfirst, Hawkeye has goaded and begged for just enough things that BJ had never even conceptualized could arouse a person to a point where he speaks quietly all the same. "Is there anything you wanna talk about?"

Charles opens his mouth, closes it, then shifts his gaze to the back corner. "Hunnicutt, I-I realize this might strain you to the point of throwing out your back, but I would prefer..." He digs up fistfuls of his blanket. "You may say whatever it is that you'd like—as long as you don't laugh at me."

BJ notes it. He's not sure what exactly compels him to reach for one of Charles's hands, coax it to open, then lift it to his lips, but as BJ leaves a kiss on his knuckles, goosebumps lift all the way down his bunkie's bare arm. "Anything at all, huh?"

After one brief moment of thought, Charles nods.

He smiles. "Well. Lucky for you, I have a lot to say."

"Ahaha," Charles drawls out. "Will wonders never cease?" Unfortunately for him, his mockery nowadays is as sweet as a caress.

BJ's far better at reading the things Hawkeye craves without a lot of explanation, but though he has a good line of clues to follow here, he still takes his steps more carefully than he would through a minefield. He backs away, holds up the condom between two fingers, waits for Charles's eyes to focus on it, then tosses it carelessly behind his desk. Charles's punched-out, ragged huff shifts to a groan at the last possible moment and leaves a checkmark by the next item on BJ's mental list. He turns to hide his smirk as he snags the pillow from the spare cot. It's lumpy, which is why none of them have replaced their own pillow with it, but it'll serve a decent enough purpose tonight.

For a man who craves silence, Charles seems antsy now that BJ isn't talking. He shifts and wiggles, adjusting his weight, while BJ crosses back to his side, then glances along the blanket. He considers. Decides to pull it away himself rather than make a request. Charles's thick cock is slick at the tip, flushed all over, and it gently curves toward his belly while BJ shoves the rough cover into a pile at the foot of the cot.

"Lift your hips." Though BJ says the words as quietly as he can, they still sound as loud as a gunshot to him. They even make Charles flinch. But all the same, Charles obeys, and BJ tucks the pillow under them, then rests his hand on one of his thick thighs with a low hum. At first, he simply rubs as though to soothe him. But then he rises higher and higher with each pass until he's feeling the breadth of Charles's ample hips. It seems to settle in what he's doing just then, given how the cock near his hand twitches.

He can't make either of them wait anymore.

He leaves the tub on Charles's end table as he comes to his feet, then strips down as quickly as he can. Though he half-expects Charles to tease him for this too, he doesn't. Maybe he's just as relieved to see BJ overwhelmed by the need to fuck him. BJ keeps his eyes on Charles's face, catches how he stares at his arms, his stomach, and finally resting on his long, hard cock. Fascinated, BJ reaches high overhead, coming up on his tiptoes in a full-body stretch, and Charles whips his head around so quickly that he's shocked it doesn't fall off.

Somehow that kind of response is just as gratifying, flustering him like that. Usually it's Hawk who ends up in Charles's lap or on his knees for him while BJ sits behind, murmurs filth in his ear or coaxes Hawk to take him faster, deeper. He rarely gets his hands on Charles and he's never on display. Not unless Charles is watching them from his side of the room while they lose themselves in one another.

He needs to get started. It's not bragging to say that he's a lot to take. BJ pops open the tub so he can slather his fingers in lubricant, then gets to work.

For a couple of minutes, he's silent, studying how Charles's body responds—if he's moving too slowly, too quickly. There's a moment where Charles digs his nails into his own thighs and BJ thinks it might be time to start distracting him. "You're tight," he observes. "Don't usually do it this way around?"

"Don't usually do it," Charles corrects him in a rough voice. "Before you two, at least. You make it...rather difficult to resist."

"Mm. Any particular reason why not?" BJ thumbs over the back of one of his hands, silently coaxing him to loosen up.

"Well, it certainly wouldn't be appropriate to risk..."

As he trails off, BJ slowly smirks, focusing simply on how his fingers stretch him out little by little. It really does all come back to this, huh? The pressure to produce an heir, the pressure to make sure he doesn't produce the wrong one, the forced isolation such a thing causes. "But there were always other boys, right? C'mon, Charles, I went to an Ivy League too. I know how you prep school fellas are."

Charles's muscles flutter around his fingers, one moment clenching almost painfully tight, the next relaxing so suddenly that he sinks in to the next knuckle before he planned to. "Hunnicutt, this is yet another piece of information that I don't owe you." The however hovers in the air. BJ skims his gaze up and locks eyes with him while he pulls back, works in another finger. "Fo-ooooo-or the record..." The word warbles when BJ scissors his digits open, but he admirably avoids laughing at him, if he does say so himself. "...Mother and Father were...concerned about Honoria and me from the beginning. I should say we did not in-spiiire confidence—do you know how thick your fingers are?" Charles demands.

BJ tips his head to the side, not blinking. "Are you complaining?"

Charles wrinkles his nose, then flops back on his pillow and stares at the ceiling as he speaks in a rush. "I cannot say for sure regarding Honoria's own schooling, but I had reason to believe that my parents asked for the administration to keep a close watch on my relationships with my fellow students."

After a thoughtful moment, BJ nods. There are two paths he could take with this. One would coax Charles into a deeper vulnerability, maybe even open up an extremely strange heart-to-heart between two of the most unlikely men to experience such a thing. The other, though... BJ licks his lips. "Not much chance to experiment, then."

"Decidedly not," Charles murmurs.

The moment BJ rests his other hand on Charles's belly, he feels him stop breathing. "Dodged a bullet there too, then. Or a bun."

Charles doesn't reply. But he relaxes a little more, and BJ is confident that he's ready for him, experienced or not. He slips his fingers out slowly, and when Charles clenches around the emptiness, he fights not to push his cock inside of him right that instant.

BJ turns his attention to gathering just a touch more lube on his clean fingers so he can slick himself up, moving at a glacial pace, silently inviting Charles to watch. "Well. It's a good thing I'm here now, huh?" He drops his voice to that melodic tone with sharper edges. As he puts one knee between Charles's thighs, it lets him be far, far above him, casting a shadow from the nearest light. "Clever of you, really. You got all the way to the other side of the ocean where they don't have a clue what you're getting up to. Who you're getting up to it with. No one's watching, not tonight. There's just Hawkeye somewhere out there, keeping people entertained, making sure they won't come anywhere near the Swamp."

Charles clears his throat. "I suppose that is rather fortuitous, isn't it?" he asks unsteadily, still not looking away from how BJ's teasing himself.

"It really is. That's the beauty of it, huh?" BJ asks. "You don't have to worry about if these work anymore." He palms Charles's balls, gently massaging them just to watch how he shudders and fights to hold back his sounds. "'Cuz you're not gonna be the one knocking somebody up. At the end of the day, you're still a Winchester. And that means you're fucking great breeding stock."

There it is. Charles's eyes widen so far, they've gotta hurt. It's rare that he lets himself be this visibly stunned, especially in front of BJ, of all people, and it tastes sweet and spiced on his tongue, fuels him to push onward.

"Not what your parents planned for, I figure." BJ shrugs and pulls a caricature of sympathy on like a mask, dripping just the edge of condescension into his tone. "I mean, they've got you in line to play husband for, what, a Vanderbilt? A Rockefeller? And here you are with your legs spread for a Hunnicutt from California. But they've got it all wrong." As BJ looms over him, he takes Charles by the jaw again and watches with a thrill as his mouth falls open. "You rich types, you're lucky to get an heir at all. You never mix it up, you know? Never bring in any new blood. It's just the same tired gene pool, the same old story, and it's gonna make all your fancy names die out one day.

"See..." BJ leans closer, thumbs over his bottom lip, watches a rare sheen begin to form on Charles's distinguished brow. "...it's guys like me who make it happen. Filthy little rats with names nobody'll ever remember." And as he carefully shifts his hips, he aligns their cocks—lets his own obscure Charles's more modest length—but he makes very sure to let the weight of his sack drag along Charles's sensitive base, and when the man beneath him sucks in a shaky breath, BJ knows he has him, hook, line, and sinker. "I'm not even gonna have to try to breed you. The second I'm filling you up, it's a done deal, darling. Yeah, you'll get your baby. But there's not a ballroom in all of Boston that'll let her debut. So the way I see it, you're about to be the luckiest girl around." BJ can feel his smirk go toothy, his eyes sparking, as he settles the full weight of his broad body over Charles's soft and round figure. "I'm about to give you your ticket out of there."

It must hit like a truck with the way that Charles suddenly groans and writhes under him, his mouth closing around BJ's thumb so he can press his teeth into it just at the edge of pain. Yeah, no, that's exactly what BJ thought. Maybe he likes the money, the staff, all those perks, but they both know that high society's got more rules tacked on than the whole goddamn Army. From what BJ's heard, one Winchester has already found her a few doorways out of the hellscape. Maybe Charles needs a little more time to make his own—but maybe helping him burn off a little of that tension won't hurt either.

"Shh, shh, it's all right." He pushes his thumb in further and doesn't try to hide his deep moan when Charles gives it the tiniest suck. It seems like it might've been instinctive—Charles freezes and blinks—but as BJ gives another quick thrust, he flushes and sucks harder. "I'll take care of everything. You've got one job: just lay back and take my cock." As Charles thrashes again with a small, pitiful sound, BJ sits back so he can align himself with his target. "No, c'mon, sweetheart, spread them like I know you want to." He's a little rougher than he means to be when he sinks his fingers into Charles's thighs and pushes them open, but the sight of Charles dripping arousal onto his stomach only kicks up his excitement another notch. "You don't need to play cute with me. You've been waiting for some no-good fella to knock you up for years now."

"H-Hunnicutt, y-you..." Though he tries his best, Charles only stammers wordlessly after that, the reverberations alternating between pinched and trembling.

He tracks it, then, how Charles is stabbing his nails back into his body. That won't do at all. This is a game, not a punishment. Before he can second guess the urge, BJ redirects Charles's legs toward his chest instead. "Here, gimme your hands. Need you to hold your legs out of the way for me, all right?" Though he's not sure Charles is even tracking specifically what he's saying, those soft and lovely fingers are offered to him all the same, and BJ leans down, kisses both palms, then guides him to pull his knees back as far as they can comfortably go. It's the doctor in BJ that makes him skim down his hamstrings, just a quick feel to make sure he isn't straining his biceps femoris or semitendinosus on either side. Only when he's satisfied does he cup the base of his own cock.

"That's it," he coos. Honestly, he expects Charles to clamp down when he feels BJ's tip rubbing against his hole—rejecting his body one last time before giving in—but he doesn't. No, he relaxes further, like he's trying to suck him inside. "God..." Charles wants him. Really wants him.

He has to take a breath and shake the shock out of his head before he's too overwhelmed by the fresh surge of desire.

With a groan, BJ begins to ease carefully in. "C'mon, let me in... Juuuust like that... Fuck, Winchester." The surname comes first, tastes filthy on his tongue. There isn't a universe in existence where this should be happening, yet here they are, Charles gasping and staring up at him with wild eyes, BJ fighting not to bite a hole through his lip as he represses the urge to sheath himself with one thrust. "Oh, you needed this, didn't you? You just need somebody...to take it all away."

Confusion drifts across Charles's face like a cloud. BJ watches it carefully, prepared to pull back. But miraculously it passes by, and in its wake, Charles furrows his brow and arches experimentally, taking him in deeper. He groans and squeezes around BJ's length for the first time, a fiery pulse of ecstasy that has BJ doubling over and catching himself on Charles's shoulders. "Hunnicutt, I-I want..." They lock eyes, searing blue on blue. "Don't... Don't take it easy on me. Do you understand?"

He's hit with such a spike of arousal that he curls tighter with a long, shivering groan. "You don't wanna be a delicate flower, Winchester?" BJ teases breathily.

"Not on your life," Charles grits out.

BJ grins as he catches his gaze one more time. "You're right. I haven't forgotten. You're good..." He bucks a little deeper. "...hardy..." Another thrust, further still. "...breeding stock." One last push crushes his pelvis against Charles's ass, and BJ hums in appreciation as he cups his cheeks in both hands and gives them a squeeze. He's stretched obscenely around BJ's cock, but all the same, he fits him just right. No straining, no swelling that's suggesting any kind of damage from rough treatment.

He makes a mental note to check him over again once he's finished fucking the hell out of him.

Since he needs to make sure they both have a moment to really adjust, BJ looks over the rest of his body, the gorgeous shape of him, soft folds here, a more solid swell there. When he gets caught on Charles's pectorals, he figures why not, then grabs one none too gently. "Mm, these are gonna be so fucking pretty. Nice and big. They get more sensitive as they start filling up, you know that?" As he thumbs over his nipple, an almost startled whine come out of Charles as it hardens, and BJ grins. "Maybe I'll come by and check on them every day. See how they're growing. And don't worry if they start feeling sore." It's curiosity that has BJ pinching and rolling it between his fingers, but the way Charles white-knuckles the edge of his cot while he gasps tells a beautifully evocative story all the same. "A nice, hot mouth'll take care of that. And I'll make plenty of time for you."

"If you don't...fuck me..." The words sound as though Charles is fighting against God himself to find them. "Hunnicutt, I-I will not appreciate it if you draw this out much longer."

For the first time, BJ's taken aback. Has he misread all of this? Sure, the man underneath him is hard enough that he's dripping yet another bead onto the slick pool on his stomach, but that doesn't mean a damn thing, does it? Just physiological. BJ plants a hand right by Charles's head and leans down. "You done playing, Charles?" he asks softly as though there's an audience to hear and make Charles feel humiliated.

Charles wrinkles his brow one more time. "Not on your life, Beej." But try as he might, the way he murmurs that nickname only makes BJ want to kiss him. "If you—" He cuts off abruptly as he glances over the shape of BJ. There's a clear appreciative gleam in his eyes as he skims over his shoulders, his arms, and BJ bites his bottom lip with a smile and fights not to flex for him. He fought hard to find a little humility while he was in medical school, but his jock side never lost it. "I am merely suggesting...that I'd rather you have me while I am still able to enjoy it."

BJ blinks a few times. Glances between them. Charles's cock is curved far enough that it is, in fact, sticking to his own stomach now.

"You did need it," BJ murmurs with a certain degree of stunned delight. When he meets his gaze now, he feels like a scamp, like he's getting away with breaking all the rules somehow, having everything he was never supposed to. "Okay. Okay, yeah, Winchester. You want me to make it good for you before I knock you up?" He sits tall on his knees to the sound of Charles's first murmuring moan, pulls out and pushes back inside with experimental force to charm out the second one. "I guess I can do that."

It doesn't take long for BJ to realize that Charles, whether he's taken it in the ass before or not, is in fact not kidding when he said that he doesn't want to be treated gently. Only a few thrusts later, Charles is reaching for BJ's hips and yanking at him. It's enthralling. He can't remember the last time someone this unexpected needed BJ to ruin them.

"Mmm..." BJ lets his eyes fall shut and his lips part as he gets a little lost in the rawness of this kind of sex. With Hawk, sure, they get a little primal sometimes, but it's always tinged with a startling amount of intimacy as though they're trading souls for a short while, trusting the other to put them back where they started rather than letting them be lost at sea. But this is different. It's not casual, exactly—Charles is far more than a colleague, most certainly a friend, and ultimately is someone who BJ can't really imagine a future away from forever. But it's less overwhelming than it ever has been with Peggy, with Hawkeye. Somehow there's less to worry about here.

It's a vital moment of connection. He wouldn't want to play like this with anyone in camp but the two people who live in this very tent. But it's also just...oddly reaffirming of their friendship. A little fun that's a lot closer to the chest than it would be if it didn't mean anything.

As BJ brings himself back into the present, out of the lush waves of physical pleasure and the sparking playfulness that overlays it, he puts his hands on Charles's thighs and lets his bunkie's fall away. "You feel so fucking good, you know that?" BJ purrs. "You were made for this. Made to take cock and be bred. No wonder you're such a pampered thing."

"Ohh..." Charles's flush has spread all the way down his neck and into his chest, a lovely bloom to match the heat right under BJ's skin.

He gets lost just then in watching how Charles's body moves under him. "Gorgeous," he breathes. He's so—

"For God's sake, Hunnicutt," Charles gasps out, stabilizing himself with a hand on the bar above his pillow, rolling his hips down to meet him in the middle with a sense of desperation. "Harder, harder, don't let up now."

The commands are the closest thing he thinks he'll ever get to begging from Charles, and that fact undoes him, practically blisters his brain. "Fuck, Winchester..." He quickly renegotiates the space, shoving the pillow a little further up with his knee, then opening him up as wide as he can with that firm grip on his thighs. His jaw clenches. As he rises to the call with a punishing pace, his muscles begin to burn in a pain that's sweeter than any sprint has ever given him. "You're taking me so deep." When he flicks his eyes up, he zeroes in on how Charles is bouncing with the force of his thrusts, the way that his mouth's gone slack. "You feel it, doncha?" BJ bites his bottom lip, pounds him so his balls are slapping against his skin. "Feel how much I've got, mmnh, to pump you full of? Think you've got room inside you for every fucking drop?"

Charles lets out an almost frantic whine, his hand snapping between them to find his cock and strip it, matching BJ's rhythm.

"Yeah, that's it, that's it," BJ coos. "Oh, you can't wait for it, huh? No, you've gotta milk me dry when you come, is that it?"

Charles's noises border on overwhelm, and if this was any other person, any other situation, BJ would pull back and check in, but this is what he needs, it's what both of them need, practically ripping the skin off their bones with how hard they take this.

BJ stares unblinkingly, painfully, right at Charles's hand, finding growls breaking free from his own chest as a visceral way to stay focused, not slow down. It pays off. The moment he thinks his body's about to cramp up, Charles gasps, throws his head back, and comes with a shocked cry.

"Fuck, that's it. Fuck, Charles." It's intoxicating somehow, watching this man make himself absolutely filthy, jet after jet streaking his body. He's not even sure where the words that bubble up are coming from. "That's right, waste it, you don't need it, I'll take care of everything, darling, you just... Nnh, fuck!" He didn't plan it, not even for the illusion of what they're playing at, but as he explodes inside of him, BJ buries his cock as deep as he can go, even grabs his hips in a bruising hold so he can push him into the tightest ball possible. He's absolutely shameless, grunting out raw, animalistic sounds as he ruts against his ass.

And then he does feel the twinge in his leg, and just like that, down he collapses.

"Hunnicutt!" Charles bellows at the top of his lungs. "You—" He tries to push BJ away, then trembles from head to toe and goes limp instead.

"Just gimme a sec." BJ fights to catch his breath. While he fumbles behind himself to find the back of his thigh and massage his hamstrings, it takes him a moment to realize Charles is still shivering. He's buried his face in BJ's neck and, what's more, he's the one rutting right there against BJ's abdomen. He chuckles. But when Charles stiffens, BJ's quick to murmur. "Y'know, that's a hell of a compliment, what you're doing right now. That was really something, wasn't it?"

Little by little, the tension in Charles's body melts away one last time. "It was...quite educational."

BJ rolls his eyes. A ringing endorsement.

"Perhaps we might..."

It feels like he might've gotten away with not cramping up. BJ hums contently as he comes up on his elbows and looks down at Charles with a sated smile. "Might what?"

Charles clears his throat. He tentatively meets BJ's eyes, then looks away immediately. "You did say that Pierce is...nearby, did you not?"

Realization comes in like a fresh, spring breeze. BJ's eyebrows raise as he reaches between them and rests his palm on Charles's sticky belly. "Y'know, I haven't fucked him yet today. He hasn't come in at least twenty-four hours." When Charles trembles once more, BJ's grin spreads wide enough to hurt. "Mmm, Winchester...you're right. It really would be a shame to leave a job half-done."

[dilf-docs]

Where Art Thou, Why Not Uponeth Me?

renaldo x younger fem!reader

summary: he wasn't even your uncle anymore, having divorced your aunt about five years ago. but of course here he was, the life of the party, crashing your sister's wedding. (alternatively: your fun bachelor uncle crashes your sister's wedding and then your pussy in the bathroom while everyone else is drunk or dancing, based on my own tweet)

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (50/25), pwp, p. in v., public sex, oral (m. receiving), rough sex, doggy style, bit of degradation + pain + humiliation kink (this combo fr), exhibition kink, forced creampie, no mommy kink but he calls her mami (as in a petname), nasty!renaldo (he's a chavorruco latin lover asshole with serious commitment and flirting issues), sprinkles of angst ig?

word count: 5,130 words

side note: the snl series is back because i definetely work harder than the devil. yes, don't underestimate a horny touch starved virgin writer who hyperfixiates for a living. this filthy public sex (another episode of the writer's poorly disguised fetish) is inspired by pedro!renaldo in the newest domingo sketch (God, i love marcello my short king) because the crash out i had after it ended (sabrina, bad bunny, andy samberg and pedro all in a room singing espresso they did it for me i fear) and snl 50 in overall was kinda cathartic; i hadn't wrote like this since my sebstan days (wdyk about dilf-docs lore huh). here's some renaldo latin lover dick for you my lovely new citizens BECAUSE WE HIT A 1K POPULATION

You take a sip from the bubbly alcohol, the sweet taste in your lips as you savor your surroundings: music blasting through the speakers, the sound of glasses and cutlery, mellow conversations and the loud buzzing behavior your family is known for; everyone is here.

You lean to your left.

"Tía Elena is a drink away from blacking out" shouting over the music.

"Te apuesto cinco dólares a que se cae en la pista" (i bet you five dollars she falls in the dance floor)

You smile back mischievously at your brother. "Deal"

Your cousin Marcello pops up from behind, hovering like a fly over the food. Was it a thing in your family to be this fucking nosy all the time?

"What are y'all doing?"

Your other cousin Benito joins the circle, speaking over the song:

"They betting Tía Elena will fall again" he laughs, "como en la última reunión" (like in the last meeting)

"Hey! Esa es mi mamá" Marcello protests. (that's my mom)

"Jesus, Beni" you hit his shoulder playfully, "what a snitch"

"There's nothing else going on, is it?" your brother argues back in defense. "Can't blame us for trying to be entertained y tu mamá por no dejar la botella" (and your mom for not putting the bottle down)

"If you all went dancing, like me, you'd had fun" he huffs, crossing his arms.

Benito laughs, "you call that dancing?"

Marcello rolls his eyes, "I'm gonna go somewhere where they appreciate me and the art of moving your body with rhythm"

"Ain't no one stopping you!" your brother quips.

You laugh at the men's antics, looking at the dancefloor. Your eyes catch your sister, moving gracefully in her white dress, that twirls with the music. She's all smiles, and has never looked this pretty before, the happiness bouncing off her like the floral perfume she's wearing, akin to the smell of the flower arrangements hanging on the walls. It may be the day or that you'd always been a romantic, but today you had almost ruined your makeup at every chance: crying over her entrance, over the vows, over the speeches, the first dance... God, you love weddings as much as you love your sister.

"You men are insufferable" you take a long sip, "I need more female energy here but all I see is you" to prove so, your eyes dart across the room, full of drunk tíos laughing loudly while shoving alcohol down their throats, all the women on the dancefloor, where you should be. But you haven't, not since #he stopped showing around to drag you by force.

Benito snickers.

"Si tía Ana hubiera venido, tal vez" (if aunt ana had come, maybe)

You click your tongue, expression awkward. She had stopped coming to the meetings all together, like she had become suddenly allergic to her family.

"Ay, Beni" you sigh. "You know she hasn't been the same since..."

In some ways, you hadn't either.

"Yeah" he agrees.

"Oh, I would've gone mad too, you know" your brothers raises his glass. "After-"

"Well, but she's the one missing out!" Marcello adds with a loud cackle, interrupting him.

Benito looks behind him, smirking "Weren't you gonna leave?"

You all laugh at your younger cousin. "Ustedes ya no tienen respeto por nadie" (you guys don't respect anyone)

"You're supposed to respect your elders" you rob a champagne flute from a waiter passing by, the glass meeting your lips. "Not annoying cousins"

You look at both your brother and Beni, waiting for them to jump on the teasing, but they're both looking at the entrance of the venue. If their jaw is tight, brows furrowed and eyes wide open, it musn't been good.

"Pero, ¿tú me estás jodiendo?" (are you fucking kidding me?)

You follow your cousin Benito's gaze after his little comment, and the tranquil champagne now bubbles in your throat up violently, making you cough.

"What is happening?" Marcello jumps, placing himself in the middle of you all. He looks frantically around, until he meets the object of your attention, specifically, person. "Is that-?"

"Yes" you find your voice after a cough, "its uncle Ren"

In all his glory. Well, more like ex-uncle. But God, didn't he look good? Of course, that's the important part and not finding out the reason why the hell he's showing up to your sister's wedding when he's not legally part of your family anymore, not since about five years ago, when he divorced your aunt Ana. You've only heard of him as of late, your tías whispering past Christmas about how they'd seen Ren at the beach, whistling at younger ladies in clad bikins with his old gang of bachelors he used to run with before settling in. How fitting.

Talking about divorce... It did him good. Not to take digs at your aunt, but as he walks in with that confident strut of his, gold chain on that broad chest of him, glowing under the lights, hair neatly trimmed and gelled back, some more greys on his hair than you remembered, and that mustache and fucking goatee... He flashes everyone a charming smile with his full pearly whites and dimple on display, going to hug your sister who looks as confused and surprised as you do. But uncle Ren always gave the best hugs, so she accepts when he wraps her up in his embrace that smells like sandalwood, leather and cigs, strong arms caging her smaller frame. The biceps flex, and you wonder if he has started hitting the gym, despite his age.

You squirm in your seat, finishing the flute in a long sip that drags like a cigarrette.

"Jesus Christ" your brother shakes his head. "Dude's not got an ounce of shame on that body"

More like that sturdy body.

"Well, that's uncle Renaldo to you" Beni adds with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Ex-uncle" you feel the need to clarify for no reason.

"No puedo creer que se atreva a aparecer después de como terminó todo con la tía Ana" Marcello coaxes. (can't believe he has the nerve to show up after how things ended with aunt ana)

"Divorcing her?" you ask with a barely contained snicker. The men all look at you and sigh.

Alright, your preference to your uncle had never gone completely unnoticed, especially in a family as attentive as yours. But it was impossible not to fall under (ex)uncle Ren's spell: you suppose that is the reason it took your aunt so long to divorce him, despite their broken marriage that had been going on for years. Because while he could be the funniest and most easy-going person in the room, he too was a serial flirter who didn't stop a sleazy smile bearing all his whites or unwarrented compliment coming out of his plump lips. He had never cheated on her, but it was hard to believe he hadn't. Renaldo knew he was hot, and that made him dangerous.

No wonder your aunt clinged so hard to their sinking ship. You still remember how proud she was when he brought him in first. Call him uncle Ren, she had insisted. After that, he started showing up around more, and then there was a ring on her finger she couldn't stop talking about. They were married for ten years, separated for six and divorced since five. Didn't have any kids, despite how much your aunt wanted them. Never had time, probably wasting it crying about his late homecomings and missed calls, mind busy in heart-breaking thoughts and a frail homelife, bound to be torn apart by his bachelor mindset that had been attractive first; how she'd fallen for the man who lighted up your barbacues and taught you how to ride your bike, even kicking an ex-boyfriend's ass once. He couldn't handle all this, he whispered on that seductive voice of his, and it was so hard to not stare and drool like a fucking dog, face burning up. Maybe it started then, when you were twenty, and you hadn't looked back ever since.

"Ah, mis sobrinos!" you all look up, and you know that deep rich sultry voice all too well. (my nephews!)

Speaking of the devil, he's coming to your table, all smiles like all the women who took Ana's side hadn't stopped dancing to glare at him. He gives a loud shout to the men across the room, and they all salute back, despite his reputation, because some of them still saw him at their bar runs, too funny and charming to pass up on his company. Renaldo is wearing something a bit too casual for the occasion, but hot damn, he looks too good.

"Ya no somos tus sobrinos, Ren" Beni corrects, but Renaldo quickly dismisses the younger man. (we're no longer your nephews)

"Familia siempre es familia" he counters. He hugs everyone of you, and when it's your turn, your body can't help but stiffen at first, then relax on arms that do indeed feel stronger. Ren still smells the same. (family is forever)

"You've been hitting the gym, uncle Ren" you giggle, champagne speaking up for you. "Sorry, just Renaldo"

He smirks while licking his lips, like he's savoring the sound of his name only on your voice. "You were always an observer, weren't you, doll?" he oggles you up and down, while your brother scoffs at your heating cheeks. "You look just about fine yourself too"

Those tight black pants, remembering legs you had seen before in shorts, hairy and strong, but what catches you the most is the big silhoutte between them, still noticeable under the strobbing lights. You gulp, and when you look up to him again, his gaze is dark even when he's smirking. You think he's noticed.

"What are you doing here?" your brother cuts the moment, and you have to roll your eyes.

"Coming to my sobrina's wedding, of course" he responds easily, like his answer is supposed to make sense.

"She isn't your nephew anymore, Ren" Benito stands up, his height clashing with his. "So why don't you leave, old man, huh? You ain't welcome anymore"

He opens his mouth, but Beni cuts him.

"And don't give me that familia bullshit. If you cared, you'd have saved your marriage"

Renaldo's jaw tightens as you three watch the tense exchange.

"Yo amaba a tú tía" he defends himself. "All this family" (i loved your aunt)

"Well" your brother is the next to stand up, "you should've showed it when it mattered"

You wish for times to be simpler: when he'd be in the middle of the dance floor, moving while singing along outloud until everyone would be forced to join him, allured by his larger than life character and playful disposition, accompanied by his attractive features. Renaldo was a force of nature that not even you were spared from: his thunderous presence turned your life upside down from the moment you became a woman and your silly crush roamed into deep uncharted territories, where your heart beat too loud and your gaze lingered on the forbidden, taking every wink and compliment uttered by that grave voice of his, savoring all the interactions you could yet it was never enough.

"You should leave" Marcello backs them up, making Renaldo tsk.

"What about you, doll? Want Ren to leave?" you react, body tense when you realize he's talking to you, your brother and cousins waiting for your answer. "We ain't even danced yet, remember? Like before"

"Time's up" a new figure emerges. Papá Francisco, Ana's father and your great uncle. "You should've thought about that before, amigo" friend, spoken in a mocking tone.

"Alright, pops" he chuckles, but it's humorless, while he raises his arms in mock surrender. "I just wanted to see my beautiful girls all grown up on Natalia's special day"

"Just the girls?" a voice scoffs behind. Awesome, now your great aunt is here. "Leave. You have now seen them"

Why can't anyone just mind their own business?

(You probably weren't being fair, but Jesus, couldn't you enjoy a bit of time with a man you crushed on and hadn't seen in five years?)

"Hola, Imelda. Looking nice" and he takes her hand and kisses it. Oh, how you wish to be her, who removes her palm with a flustered face.

"What's going on?"

Now your sister has come to where a small crowd has formed, a frown on her beautiful face. Her husband trails behind.

"Nada, Nati. Tu vuelve a la pista y disfruta tu boda" Beni dismisses. (nothing, nati. go back to the dancing floor and enjoy your wedding)

"Well, you've made it my bussiness by having this conversation on my wedding, as you say" she sighs tiredly, running a hand through her hair. "Why don't you just leave him alone and we all go back to our thing, yeah?"

"No" Renaldo, who had been quiet, speaks up. "I know where I'm not welcomed" that earns a mocking Do you? from your brother and Beni scoffs. "I'll leave now" then turns around one last time, boots marking their steps with a clicking sound that echoes off the walls, despite the music still playing. "Have a nice life, Nati. Wish you the best"

You watch his back getting farther and farther away, getting lost in the sea of bodies on the dance floor. Your heart plummets and you can't he's gone again from your life, just like that.

"Show's over, gente. Go back to the party" Papá Francisco speaks in a harsh tone, filled with finality.

You try, you do, even going to the dance floor with the men, dancing around with a friend of Nati's husband who asks for your Instagram handle when the song ends, but your mind is elsewhere.

"Excuse me" you tell him with a sweet smile, and he makes you swear you'll give him your username when you're back.

Taking advantage on everyone's bliss, you quietly sneak away from the dance floor, walking towards the gardens.

One thing you'll always admire of your sister, is her attention to detail. She had chosen this particular venue for it's ample gardens, choosing for a reception on the open due to the favoring weather conditions on summer.

The dress clings to your body as the windy breezes by, and you hug your body, cursing your heels that have now started to hurt. You spot the rose bushes your sister had trimmed, looking as beautiful as the first day you saw them on the rehearsal.

"You should've stayed inside"

You jump then relax when you see him, cigarrette dangling from his mouth.

"Here" you take out a lighter from your purse. His face comes closer, hot breath on your face until the click casts a small flame that flickers light over his ageing features. He's aged fine like wine, and by the smirk he gives you before taking a drag, Renaldo's aware of it, maybe about the effect he has on you.

"Thank you, sweetheart" his big hand finds its way to the bush, rustling some leaves. In a harsh tug, he cuts a rose, and you laugh in surprise. "Here"

You smile. "I don't think you're supposed to cut these"

"But it's beautiful, isn't it?" his hands brush yours when you take the gift. "As beautiful as the lady"

A pool of heat forms in your stomach. He's complimented you before, sure, but never has the air felt this charged before, a lurking dangerous anticipation condensed on his smoke trails and your shaky breaths.

"I'm sorry you had to leave"

Renaldo is still close to you. You get a whiff of his cologne, mixed with the cigarette; it's intoxicating. Your eyes dart to the chain, and you wonder how would it look-

"They made me leave" he corrects with a chuckle, a deep rumble coming from his chest.

"Right" you laugh, feeling nervous all of the sudden. "My bad, Ren"

"You didn't want me to leave, did you, doll?" the new wave of petnames makes your legs weak. "Also..." he makes a brief pause, the cigarette now dropped and stomped against the grass. "I like the way that sounds"

Before you realize, his fingers are ghosting over your lip, brushing until some of the matte shade coats his calloused thumb.

His fingers then move to your chin, applying a light pressure to your skin, but enough to bruise.

"Say it again"

"W-what?" you ask, barely a breath.

"Say it, y/n" his face is just inches away from yours. You have to bite your lip to hide out a whine from the sound of your name on his voice. "I know you want to"

"R-Ren" you choke out, fluttering eyelids at the way the pressure doesn't falter.

"Now be a good girl and spell my full name like it's the only thing you know"

The following whimper you can't contain it; the praise gets to you.

"Renaldo"

His brown eyes adquire a dark shade that even in the low moonlight, you notice.

"So pliant, doll. For me?"

You nod dumbly, completely fucked out of your mind, warning sirens barely a buzz in the back of your head. Be it the alcohol, or the lack of control you had when it came to him, its impossible to resist the want to fall.

A beat. "Might reward you for that"

He crashes his mouth into yours, full force, in a heated, hungry and messy kiss. He sucks your lips so hard they for sure will bruise, an action very fitting with his strong and absorbing character. His tongue is wet and sloppy, giving you no space to breathe as you grant him access, wrapping your hands around his midsection, pulling him closer.

Renaldo chuckles, letting you gasp for air. "So needy, aren't you? Always were like this. So demanding; wanna have things your way"

"I see you know me well, don't you?" you bat your eyelashes.

"It's impossible to ignore you, you goddamn tease" your fingers trace through his broad back, tanned skin soft that your nails feel the need to dig. You once eavesdropped on your aunt gushing to your tías about how he loved nails-- long fresh manicured nails; red for the win. "Fucking temptress"

Renaldo groans into your mouth. "Think I wouldn't notice how you looked at me with this hungry eyes, huh?" he bites your lips so hard you taste blood. "Might as well just said it"

He forces his tongue inside of you again, making your body squirm as he presses his weight over you, back pinned to the bushes, the leaves tickling your skin. Ren now swallows a whine of yours, dick throbbing hard at your needy sounds.

He then detaches his mouth from yours, a silver string of saliva connecting you two.

"Still can't fucking say it"

But he insists you're the tease.

You cock an eyebrow. "Never was good with words. How about this?"

Renaldo holds your gaze as you descend, until your knees hit the grass. Your fingers toy with his pants until you pull them down, following with his underwear.

"Oh, doll. Consider me interested" as if his cock wasn't leaking with precum.

Your lips begin to wrap around the tip of his cock, then swallow him whole, eager and so fucking cock starved. Soon, you pick up a rapid pace, your tongue doing God knows what but his jaw is tense from keeping the sounds from coming out, but aren't you testing his limits? Slurping on his damn cock like you've been deprived of it all your life. In a way, you have, and you don't waste time in not sucking the living soul out of him.

Your eyes look up, chest warm and pussy wet at the pleasure etched across his face, and he looks at you, at your drooly mess for sucking his dick.

He tugs your hair harshly, making you gag.

"I wanna see you" he gathers your hair up into a makeshift ponytail to keep it out of your face. "Keep going-"

A grunt escapes his lips, cutting himself off. You clasp your thighs together looking for some pressure to ease yourself a little, your mouth busy still gagging, sank down until you feel his balls. The tip of his cock is buried in your throat, lodged so fucking deliciously in the back. You let it out, and Renaldo groans.

"The fuck you do that for?" comes out his complain, voice strained.

"I needed my mouth to speak" you clean some drool on your face. "Need you to do something for me" he clears his throat as letting you speak. "I want you to fuck my mouth"

"Carajo, muñeca" you place a little kiss on his inner thigh. "You're so fucking dirty, who would've thought?" (fuck, doll)

Your chest rises and falls, lips parted while a string of saliva coats them.

"Alright, wanna see if you're just talk, you cock hungry whore" Ren smirks devilishly. "I'm gonna ruin the fuck out of you"

He gathers you by your hair and shoves you back down, hips bucking with a movement so brash you choke. Your pretty eyes water and your fake eyelashes get wet. Renaldo continues to buck his hips up and force you down, choking and spit sounds making his dick hard as he throws his head back with half-lidded eyes.

His big cock stuffing your throat feels like a dream and he knows you're enjoying it.

A little content smile graces his lips, and he can feel his abdomen tightening. He bucks his hips up faster, forcing your head down deeper, panting as you gag on his cock, and when his grip on your hair falters and his body shakes, you know he's close.

"Little slut" he teases with a hoarse voice, "do you want to eat my cum that badly?"

Your answer comes in the form of sucking him off to drive him to the edge, refusing to pull out.

"Entonces hártatelo, puta" (then gorge on it, slut)

He fills your throat up with his cum, sputtering and swallowing down as much as you can while he holds you in place. You gasp for air when he finally lets you go, a mix of cum and drool running down your chin.

"A fucking expert, doll. Five stars" his finger brushes over your skin. "Look at this mess 'cause you were too fucking hungry. Lick it"

Your chest heaves, but you get close to the fingers, sucking on them. It tastes like him and you, the sensation making both your cunt and chest warm. You don't hold yourself back and look at him all the time, the sucking sound as obscene as the latest.

Suddenly, in the quiet of the night, you can't think of anything else.

But then leaves rustle, yet none of you have moved.

"Y/n?"

Shit, It's Beni. You then recognize Marcello and your brother, trailing behind.

"Looks like we gotta go" he laughs, amused. You can only feel your face burn. "Ah, no te preocupes, muñeca. I know a place. Follow me" (don't worry, doll)

Renaldo has taken you to a fucking bathroom, just meters away from the venue. But the music is loud, and no one notices the two people hurriedly getting inside, like dumb horny teenagers.

"Jesus" he pants, and you click the door. He reaches for your face, carressing your warm skin before ghosting over your lips. "Now, where were we?"

The kiss.

Again, it's rushed, rough and impatient, like he too had been waiting a lifetime to taste you.

Renaldo pushes you against the bathroom's wall, making you moan when his larger frame cages yours. You're drowning of him: his smell, his sweat that starts to pool, the heat radiating off his body, the view you have of his veins and tense muscles, that fuckass chain... It's all now yours.

He gropes your body, testing forbidden waters until now. Then, his hand leaves your ass and reaches for your exposed inner thigh. His greedy fingers wander into the upper cut of your dress without any warning and head for your clit. The older man hisses, feeling your wet patch, rubbing teasingly through the thin material of your laced panties you now feel lucky to have chosen, arousing you even more. You feel them damp and sticky while tilting your head back in pleasure and he takes the chance to paint bruises all over your neck and collarbone. 

"Renaldo" you moan his name as his tongue licks the exposed skin of your collarbone, trailing dangerously close to the valley of your tits, pushed up thanks to the dress. He bites down on the crook of your neck, skin inviting.

"Glitter, baby?" he chuckles at how it seems to shimmer. Your friend Sabrina had convinced you to do it, even borrowing you hers; it smelled like vainilla.

"What's this, huh? You youngsters never fail to amaze me" with a sleazy smile that makes your pussy clench, more when he open his mouth to show you his sparkling tongue.

"Oh? We're just getting started" you pant as his fingers slide through the seam of your panties, gracing your entrance. "I'm full of surprises"

"Little minx, I like that sassy mouth of yours" you roll your hip to reach out for his teasing fingers, "we're about to find out"

You repeat the motion, cunt aching for his touch, but end up gracing his pulsating strained bulge with your upper belly in the process. He stops, the black pants looking uncomfortable-- fighting to be freed.

"Fuck, mami. Need'a be inside you" you nod too eagerly, lips parted open. His hand graces your ass. "Now turn around"

You obey without thinking twice, and he pushes your face down on the counter with a harsh demanor.

"You won't move, right?" you hum, despite his hand placing on your neck and the other grabs your waist hashly, fingers digging in the skin to keep you still. You whimper at the light pain, "Good girl"

He pulls down your panties until they fall down to the floor, then hikes your dress up, exposing your ass.

"Nice, mami" he whistles, "I like what I see"

To prove so, he uses his hands to part your legs and spread them open, his other hand undoing his pants for the second time during that night.

"Tell me how much you want this" but he's already pushing the head of his cock into your folds. His tip brushes your soaking clit, and it sends a delicious but painful shiver that coarses through your body.

"Badly" you cry out.

"Tus deseos son órdenes, muñeca" he purrs. "Despite it all, I'm a gentleman" (your wish is my command, doll)

In one swift move, he pushes his length into your slick folds. "So wet, doll. 'S it for me?" you nod and he laughs, "gonna reward you for that"

He pulls his cock out and then slams it all inside, burying himself to the hilt.

You jerk under his hold at the sudden move, feeling all his girth in your walls, trying to take him. A breathy moan falls from your lips.

"Shh, don't move" he leans down to whisper in your ear, "music is loud but it ain't gonna do miracles to cover up those slut sounds out of you"

He doesn't ask for permission, only increasing the pressure of your face against the counter, the cold burning against your cheek, and begins to move inside of you, soon picking up an erratic pace, his pelvic area slamming into your ass. Fuck, your eyes sting from the brutal force of each thrust as he forces into you, movements sloppy, and the obscene sound of skin clapping against skin feeling the now feeling even smaller bathroom, that is starting to get hotter and more humid. You can't really see the mirror, but can imagine it fogging up.

"Tell me how it feels" Renaldo pants, his grip on your waist increasing in pressure. "Wanna hear you say how much you love my cock, little puta" (whore)

"S-so goo-good" you sputter out.

"'S that why you had to suck me off in the garden?" he chuckles darkly. "Couldn't even fucking wait, didn't care to be caught like a fucking whore by tus primos y hermano. No, you wanted Renaldo's cock so fucking badly you got on your knees as soon as he came back into your life" his words should make you feel embarrassed, but you moan at the string of humiliating and lewd words. "Bet you thought about it since forever, heh? You opportunist cocksleeve. That you touched yourself to this even when I was with Ana"

"C-couldn't help it, Ren. Wanted you so so bad" you cry. "Always have"

"Fucking filthy little shit" he whistles, "you're no good girl. You're a real bad girl"

You whine, turning into a moaning mess, blabbering nonsense.

"I-I need to-"

"Go on, tell Renaldo what you need"

"Need to c-cum" you gasp, walls clenching around his cock, your eyes battling to remain open.

He leans down, bitting your earlobe. Then, he kisses it, his smokey scent carresing your hot skin.

"Go on, baby. Wanna see you take all of my seed until it drips from your legs" he grunts, his thrusts sloppy and messy like his kisses. "I need'a see you walkin' back inside so everyone knows what you did, you filthy slut. For everyone to see what's mine"

You see stars, pussy gushing over his dick. His thrusts loose rhythm, and you know he's out for blood.

"W-wait!" you feel the overestimulation as his dick twitches inside you.

"You said you'd behave" he pants, his hold still firm. "So don't be such a fucking bitch and let me cum too, mami. You aren't cruel, are you?"

"N-no"

"Then you'll let me do this" his cock spasms, "and this"

His seed spurts inside of you, thick whiteness dripping down your ass and thigh as your pussy milks it. Some spills on the floor, some drops on your dress and some on his pants, black pants, making him hiss.

"Fuck" he curses, while pulling out. "See that?"

"Oh, I see" you chuckle dryly. "But you forget only one of us is going back to the wedding"

He chuckles, taking in the sight of you: dress ruined, hair damp, run makeup and cum-stained legs. Despite it all, you're still so pretty, and he can't believe a girl he used to call sobrina five years ago has now taken his dick like a fucking champ. Renaldo tugs some loose strands behind your ear, sleazy smiling at you.

"I have a solution" his finger traces your arm, taunting.

You want to stretch your time with him. God knows when you'll see him again.

"Yeah?"

"No awkward questions, no explanations, and more of this" he signals his dick; it's still pulsating, dear Lord. How old was this guy again?

You shouldn't bear any hopes or hop on his truck that probably reeks of ashes and rum. But you never had any sense when it came to Renaldo, and now that you've tasted him, nothing will ever be the same.

"I'm all ears"

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @a7estrellas

[sugusama]

hii, i loved your Katsuki fic and wanted to submit a request. katsuki x american gf reader, where he’s never met her but they try to talk throughout the day by texting or calling despite time difference. then they meet at the end of the fic as a surprise for katsuki (still UA au please). tyy :)

꒰🫧꒱﹒ 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ﹒⟢ featuring: katsuki bakugo ‧₊˚ . ꣑୧

sypnosis ☆ bakugo never expected to fall for a girl halfway across the world… especially one with a six-hour time difference and a laugh that lives in his head rent-free. between classes at ua and her busy days in america, they text, call, and fall a little deeper with every message. but what happens when time zones and screens aren’t enough anymore? ⸝⸝ ᰔ ̫ ᰔ⸝⸝

content warnings ☆ fluff, comfort, a little angsty, ua based, black female reader, she/her used, lowercase intended, not proofread, bakugo has broken english, italics = japanese ๑•́ ₃ •̀๑

word count ☆ 1.1k

authors note ☆ hello hello! thank u so much for ur kindness 🌼 here you go! i hope you like this one just as much! if u would like anything else let me know!!

katsuki didn’t want to be part of any dumb online chat.

he hated talking for no reason. hated random people. especially hated wasting time when he could be training or doing something that mattered.

so when denki shoved his phone in his face during break and said, “bro, you gotta try this,” katsuki’s immediate response was no.

“it’s a server,” denki explained, grinning. “for, like, international hero fans. some of them are trying to get into schools like u.a. and they ask the weirdest shit.”

“not my problem.”

“c’mon. you can mess with them. they’ll lose their minds when you answer.”

“fuck off.”

but that night, katsuki couldn’t sleep. his shoulders ached from drills. his head was too loud with thoughts he didn’t want to think. and his phone, tucked under his pillow, kept buzzing with notifications from that stupid server denki added him to.

he stared at the screen for a while. thumb hovering over the app. then—he opened it.

a flood of posts. some boring. some weird. some flat-out wrong.

and then one message caught his eye.

|“so like… do students at u.a. really spar? like actually hit each other?”

the username was unfamiliar. your profile picture was a blurry sky—probably taken from your phone. and your bio just said “sleepy. always.”

he stared at your message longer than he meant to as he tried to decipher it.

then typed, slowly:

|“yes. we fight. real hits.”

a full six minutes passed.

he didn’t think you’d respond.

but you did.

|“wait WHAT. like actually?? is that even allowed???”

he snorted, eyes narrowing with a half-smile.

| “yes. is real. allowed. strong hits.”

your response came quicker this time.

| “dude! i’m american. our schools make us wear helmets to run in gym class. this is unfair.”

he let out something close to a laugh—just a small huff of breath—but it surprised him.

he didn’t answer. didn’t need to.

he already bookmarked your name.

he didn’t expect to hear from you again.

but the next night, just after dinner and before study hour, you were there.

| “hi again, explosion boy. (you got a better name?)”

he stared at the screen for a second before replying:

| “bakugo.”

| “ooh. that sounds cool. you sound cool. are you?”

he hesitated, then typed:

| “yes.”

you sent back the laughing emoji. then:

| “humble too.”

he didn’t know why it made his chest feel tight.

from there, it became… a thing.

late-night messages. voice notes. pictures.

you sent him one of your lunch—a sandwich and chips, nothing fancy—but you added,

| “i ate thinking of you. does that make me weird?”

he didn’t answer for a full hour.

then wrote:

| “no. i like that.”

you replied with a blushing emoji.

he stared at it too long.

he never liked phone calls. they were too much. too close.

but your voice was—soft. kind. playful in a way that made his chest ache.

your first voice note was just:

“hi. it’s weird hearing myself talk to you, but i wanted you to know what i sound like.”

and he listened to it.

three times.

the first time just to hear your tone. the second to understand every word. the third because… he missed it, even if it had only been a minute long.

his reply was rough. hesitant.

“hi. uh. i… don’t like talk. much. but… i like yours. voice.”

you sent back:

| “that was the sweetest thing ever, actually.”

after that, you started calling.

not every day. not long.

just enough.

he’d lie on his bed, staring at the ceiling, half-listening to your rambles about work and siblings and the weather. he didn’t talk much. didn’t know how to say all the things he was feeling in a language that always made his tongue trip.

but you didn’t mind.

you’d say, “you don’t have to talk. just stay on.”

so he did.

it happened slow.

your voice became part of his routine.

your good morning texts came while he was getting ready for class. your “i’m heading to bed, katsuki” messages always landed when he was on patrol.

you started sending pictures of things you loved. a book. your porch light. a sunset from your window.

he started sending them back.

once, he sent you a picture of his hand after training—bandaged, calloused, rough. and you wrote:

| “ i hope you rest, even when you think you don’t need it.”

and that line just… stayed.

for days.

he reread it during class. during silence. during nights when his head was too full and nothing felt steady.

he didn’t say he missed you.

but he did.

quietly. constantly.

time difference was cruel.

he hated that you were waking up when he was falling asleep.

he hated how sometimes he’d send a long message and forget what he wrote by the time you answered.

he hated how his chest twisted when he saw your name and couldn’t respond.

but you always made it easy.

“ i know you’re tired. you don’t have to talk. i just wanted to say i’m thinking of you… i’m still here. still cheering for you. always.”

you made it feel like you were closer than you were.

and yet, the space between you ached more with every week.

he didn’t notice when he fell.

not until kirishima asked him why he was smiling at his phone.

not until his chest ached when you didn’t text.

not until he caught himself learning english phrases just to tell you things the right way.

he didn’t tell anyone.

not even you.

but he sent you a voice note at midnight, after a long day, voice hoarse and quiet:

“i… i like talk to you. always. i wait for you. even when late. just so you know.”

you didn’t reply with a voice note.

you replied with a text:

| “me too, katsuki. every day.”

he didn’t sleep that night.

it came suddenly, the text message read:

| “if i ever came to japan… would you wanna meet me?”

he sat up in bed like he’d been punched.

heart pounding.

he typed.

deleted.

typed again.

finally, he sent:

| “yes. i want. i wait for you.”

and then he waited.

one hour.

then two.

you didn’t reply that night.

and he told himself it was okay.

even if it wasn’t.

two weeks.

that’s how long it took.

two weeks of silence. of almost texting you. of wondering if he’d said something wrong.

then—midnight.

his phone buzzed.

| “come outside kats <3 ”

his hands shook.

he ran.

didn’t care who saw. didn’t care that he was barefoot.

and there you were.

standing at the gate. hoodie on. suitcase by your side. scarf he mailed you wrapped around your neck.

you smiled.

“hey.”

he didn’t say anything. just stared.

you stepped forward. nervous.

“you’re taller than i thought,” you teased.

he swallowed hard. voice rough.

“you’re… real.”

you laughed. tears in your eyes.

“told you i’d come.”

the aching, the quiet missing, the longing—

and then he held you.

and everything he’d been holding in— spilled into the way he buried his face in your neck and breathed like he could finally exhale.

[kilesplaysthings]

how the boys would react when you have a migraine

ngl i'm a little apprehensive about this one lol and it got LONG o.o Sylus is the fandom's darling, it seems, so i hope i wrote him well ^^;

Xavier | Rafayel | Zayne | Sylus | Caleb

Part IV: Sylus (you/MC x Sylus)

It had been an entire week since you started having one of the worst migraines you'd had in a long time. You did get them every so often, but it had been a while since one had lasted this long. You'd done your best to combat it with medication and sleeping in a cool, dark room, but none of your usual methods worked. It just seemed to be a migraine you had to suffer through. By the end of the week, you'd decided to call off of work for a day to rest. Your migraine was beginning to wear off, but you were utterly exhausted. You felt like you'd run a marathon; either that or gotten hit by a truck.

You were so thankful it was finally the weekend coming up. Since you took the day off of work, you had three days to hide away and sleep for hours on end. Hopefully, you'd be up to going back to work next week.

The lights were off, the AC was down in the low 60s, and you were ready to burrow yourself into the blankets and cut off all contact with the outside world until Monday. Before you were able to surrender yourself to slumber, your phone went off. A glance at the screen indicated it was none other than your boyfriend trying to call you.

"Yes, Sylus?" You answered. It was only mid-afternoon. You were surprised he was awake at this hour.

"I just received a notification from Mephisto," he remarked. "He said you didn't go into work today."

You shook your head, smiling wryly. "Keepin' tabs on me, huh?"

"You know I'm always watching over you, sweetie," he replied with a low laugh. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Sylus always seemed to be in tune with you when something was amiss, and he always checked to make sure everything was all right. The two of you valued honesty in your relationship, so you told him right away about your awful migraine.

"It's been going on for the whole week and nothing's helping. I'm wiped out." You heaved a deep sigh.

"What are you doing right now?" He asked.

"Not a thing," you answered. "Just lying in bed."

"Are you up for a drive?"

You thought about it for a moment. Your migraine was wearing off by now; it was just a mild, dull ache at this point. More than anything else, you were just fatigued.

"It's all right if you're not," he said when you hesitated.

"No, I think I'll be fine as long as we're just driving in a car, but I don't think I'd be much use for anything else," you told him.

"Don't worry. I promise it will be very relaxing, what I have planned."

Your eyebrows rose up in surprise. "You're planning something? What is it?"

"You'll find out soon enough. I'll be there in about ten minutes."

"Do I have to dress up?" You asked, worried. You really hoped whatever he had prepared wasn't anything too fancy.

"Wear whatever you want, kitten."

The call ended shortly after that. You sat up in bed and looked down at yourself. At the moment, you were in your pajamas. Sylus said you could wear whatever you wanted, so you were going to do just that. At this point, you couldn't care less if he saw you looking like a slob.

You threw on a tshirt, sweats and a hoodie. A pair of slip-on sneakers completed the look. You didn't want to bother with your hair, so you just pulled it back into a bun, and of course, makeup was totally out of the question. However, you did wash your face to freshen up.

You felt your phone vibrate in your hoodie pocket and saw that he texted you:

"I'm here."

When you opened the door, sure enough, there he was in all his 6'2 glory. He gave you a warm smile.

"Hey there, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," you found yourself saying, unable to help the little feeling of glee that ran through you at the sight of him. You'd been together for a while by now, but he still gave you butterflies. Being so tired and achy was probably also a part of your reaction to seeing him. You'd missed him.

He chuckled. "Good to see you too. How are you feeling? Tired?"

You worked up a small smile. "Yeah, but I'll live. This is the best I could do right now," you said, nodding to your outfit. "'S that okay?"

"Of course." His deep voice was gentle, and he reached for your hand. "Come."

You were more than happy to place your hand in his larger one. He kept you close as you both left the apartment, went down the elevator and out of the building. His sleek, black car was parked out front by the entrance. Sylus opened the passenger door for you before he got in on the driver's side. Once you were seated, you noticed the car windows were tinted, most likely to shield you from any aggravating light.

"How's the air?" Sylus asked as he started the car. "Too cold? Too hot?"

You shook your head. "It's fine. I'm comfortable."

"Good." He placed his hand on the back of your neck, massaging it gently with his thumb. "Close your eyes and lay your head back if you want to rest some more."

He pressed a button, and your seat began to recline. You were happy to do as he suggested, feeling quite relaxed, especially when the car began to move. You felt like a restless, sick child, lulled into a peaceful sleepiness from the motion of the vehicle.

The ride lasted for probably twenty minutes or so. When you felt the car come to a stop, you opened your eyes. Sylus was parking in front of an elegant looking building surrounded by flowery hedges and some trees. A sign near the front door indicated that Sylus had taken you to a Spa with a sauna. Your eyes widened.

"A spa?" You exclaimed.

He smirked. "I thought this weary kitten could use some pampering."

He got out of the car and went over to open the door for you.

"You made an appointment for me?" To say you were stunned would be an understatement.

"For us," he corrected. "I though a massage would do me some good."

You giggled. "Oh, I see. You just wanted an excuse to get pampered yourself, I bet."

He huffed a little and smiled, amused. "Think whatever you like. All that matters is that I get to see you smiling like that again."

His sweet words made you blush a little. You grabbed his hand and pulled him along to go inside the building. The secretary at the front desk greeted you with a smile and pulled up the reservation that was under Sylus's name. She checked you both in and led you to a smaller room where you could relax on a couch while you waited for your masseuse. This room was quiet with soft music playing in the background. It was lit with warm lamp light and the soothing smell of essential oils wafted from a nearby diffuser. You were feeling relaxed already.

When it was your turn for the couple's massages, the lady who would treat you called your names. Sylus had ordered a full body couple's massage, complete with facials and aromatherapy. It was the full package, and you decided not to even try to contemplate how much it cost.

Once you were both disrobed, you were asked to lie down on your stomachs on two comfortable beds. You were given towels to cover your more private areas. The lady massaging you focused on your upper back, neck, head and forehead. You had a feeling Sylus had recommended those areas for you specifically.

"How is it?" He asked as you both had your backs massaged. You barely registered his question, nearly asleep.

"Feels amazing," you muttered. You didn't notice the soft smile that came over his face.

"Good."

Once the massage was over, he suggested you both relax in the sauna. As the steam filled up the small room, you leaned against Sylus, resting your head on his shoulder.

"I feel much better," you murmured. You felt his hand rub your upper back around your shoulder blades.

"Then my plan worked perfectly."

"Sylus," you said, looking up at him, "thanks so much. This really helped."

"Of course, sweetie." He leaned in to kiss your cheek.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" You asked after a minute of peaceful silence.

He laughed a little. "You don't need to ask. I was going to suggest it anyway."

You both showered and prepared to leave the spa, with plans to spend the night at one of his houses nearby. By now it was early evening and Sylus assured you dinner would be taken care of by a chef he employed. As the two of you waited for the meal to be prepared, you relaxed on the couch together in front of a lit fireplace.

You were resting on top of him, your head on his broad chest. The sound of his beating heart against your ear was soothing, so much so that you were fighting the urge to fall asleep again.

"Sy, I just want to say, thank you again. You don't know how much these last couple of hours meant to me," you told him quietly, while absently stroking his side.

"You really don't need to thank me, kitten. After all, it was enjoyable for me, too."

You knew he was joking and poked his cheek, peering up at him. "Regardless, I'm so grateful to have such a caring boyfriend like you. What do you say to making this a regular thing? I think spa dates with you would be fun!"

A pleased smile spread over his face, and he stroked your hair. Gazing into your eyes, he said, "I'll look forward to the next time, then."

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi! I hope you’re doing well and have a nice day, you deserve it with all the amazing stories you have written. I love the way you write villain characters so much. Can I request a story between a villain x sidekick/ someone who works on their side? Your wrote the conflict feelings when the hero falls for the villain so well, I’m curious to see how you explore a relationship where the villain falls for someone who he doesn’t have to hide/ compromise his ideas for? No pressure tho!

"Have you considered," the villain said, "chasing after someone who isn't your boss?"

"Is that a request or order for me to stop?"

The villain considered their sidekick for a moment, at that. They were a bright young thing, as sidekicks so often were. Beautiful and powerful and eager to sink their teeth in the world and leave all the bloody marks of a legacy. Passion-sparkling. Not yet tired. Their fury still a forest fire.

The villain should have said yes. Stop. It was the only smart thing. The only reasonable thing. Bright young things should be with other bright young things, and if they were chasing something else it was probably a trap.

At their silence, their sidekick smiled. Quick and pleased and more confident than the villain ever remembered being at that age. They took a step closer in the villain's study, stepping in between the villain's legs, looming.

"I think you like being chased, boss," their sidekick said.

The villain raised an eyebrow, glad their face betrayed nothing of their pounding heart. "I think I like escaping heroes and leaving them looking stupid."

"Deflection."

"Truth."

"Truth can be a deflection. You taught me that."

Despite themselves, the villain's lips twitched in a smile. "Did I."

"Do you want a truth?"

"I think you're better at lying."

"True," the sidekick said shamelessly. "I think you're the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen."

The villain swallowed. They willed their face not to flush. By the way their sidekick's eyes lit up, they suspected they failed. Their sidekick leaned in, they pressed the advantage, just as the villain had bloody taught them. Their hands settled on the arms of the villain's chair, as if the villain was someone who could be bracketed in and caged.

"I think," the sidekick said, "that you go for what you want. So it's curious that you deny yourself me. Normally I'd be flattered to be an exception, but in this case..."

"You think I want you?"

"I have eyes. Tell me you don't. Make it convincing."

"Now who's giving who orders?"

The sidekick's smile turned to a grin. Feral. The villain wanted to bite it, kiss it, claim it. It was delightful. They wet their lips and there was a giddy thrill to the way the sidekick's eyes followed the movement.

Of course, the sidekick, and most of the world, always followed the villain's every movement. Just in case.

"Obviously," the villain said, "I want you. That doesn't make kissing my mentee, my employee, a good idea. I have - power over you."

"Oh, do you? Does a person like you have power? Gosh. I hadn't noticed."

"Brat."

"Boss." The sidekick's hands inched closer, dragging tantalising up the villain's thighs.

The villain should have shoved them away, but once again they held damningly still. Once again, the sidekick rewarded them with that smile.

"I don't want to take advantage of you," the villain said.

"I would love for you to take advantage of me, so is it really taking advantage? I'm not a child. I know my own mind. You're the one taught me I should go after what you want."

"Did I."

"Uhuh." The sidekick pouted at them, eyes glinting with mischief. "No takesie-backsies just because you never imagined I'd want you."

The villain's breath hitched.

Why do you want me was an absurd question to ask? The villain knew all the reasons that people chased them. Power, connection, the things the villain could give. To stop them, to own them, to ruin them.

Their sidekick's eyes spoke nothing of those things. Their mouth, when it finally descended on the villain's, promised only sweetness. Only desire. Only things that the villain had never thought they'd be able to have again, because it was lonely at the top for a reason.

"I considered chasing after someone else, sure," the sidekick whispered, "but you're the one I want. So let's not make a good thing more complicated then it has to be, yeah?"

It was a bad idea. A terrible idea. A reckless idea, of the sort that the villain hadn't allowed themselves to indulge in a long time.

And, yet, the villain grabbed a fistful for the sidekick's hair and reeled them in to kiss them. Again, and again, and again.

Their sidekick was right, after all.

The villain always got what they wanted in the end.

[corrcdedcoffin]

teenage dirtbag, baby

jj maybank x reader

requested: yes

warnings: none. fluff, pining. one use of y/n. jj is a big ol’ softie and nervous boy here. poorly proof read. i’m not entirely happy with this but it is what it is i guess. 18+

gif not mine!

it was so typical to want what he can't have.

it went against basically every rule on kildare island. kooks and pogues aren't friends; avoid each other at all costs. date in your own social circle. but he couldn't help himself and the big, fat crush he had on you, ever since the day he'd saw you.

it was at the wreck. kiara was helping out one weekend, back when she went to the kook academy for a year. she was behind the counter while jj, john b and pope sat at it, listening to her qualms about her new school.

you were with your family having lunch, pope noticing how kiara kept looking over to you.

"is she one of the mean ones?" he asked, everyone else turning to look at you as you were wrapped up in a conversation, moving around animatedly.

"no," kiara breathed out, "she's pretty cool, actually. she's in my art class. i think she keeps more to herself."

"why don't you try being friends with her?" pope suggested.

she shrugged. "yeah, maybe."

the conversation moved on, but jj couldn't stop looking over at you. if he were in a cartoon, little heart bubbles would be floating all around him, and there'd be a tiny heart shaped arrow stuck in his chest.

he hadn't seen you around for a long time after that. not until the next year at school, when you were at the public school instead of the academy. you certainly looked like a pogue — maybe slightly more well groomed and fashionable, but nothing about you screamed kook.

by the time he'd worked up the courage to introduce himself to you, you were gone.

he saw you around a lot after that. every time he'd wander the halls when he was supposed to be in class, he'd peek in every window to see if you were behind the door. he didn't see you for a few days until he passed the art room at lunch.

there you were; headphones on, slightly swaying side to side as you painted, stopping every few moments for another bite of your lunch.

art never made much sense to jj, he didn't like having to think about what something meant, or being told what he was supposed to feel when looking at something. but he knew one thing for sure: you were insanely talented, and he’d happily sit in a room full of your paintings.

this is his chance, he thought, but you looked so focused and in the zone that he didn't want to disrupt you, so he left.

you invaded his dreams basically every night since.

it was probably for the better anyway, he thought to himself. jj was… well, jj. a dirt poor stoner who hardly ever went to class in favour of smoking and surfing. and you? you oozed intellect and creativity.

a while later he'd learned your name from kiara, impressed with himself how casually he brought it up. "i think i saw another girl from the kook academy here" he'd said.

"oh, yeah. that's y/n, the only other reasonable and cool person that went there."

"do you know why she left?"

"no idea" kiara shrugged. "maybe they bullied her out like they did with me."

and that was it. after he'd learned your name, he found you on social media and began to... observe.

it wasn't like you were secretive, but you weren't exactly an open book like some people were on socials. your instagram had a few selfies, photos of your art, your friends, and some landscapes. your twitter was all over the place, from memes to thoughts that were definitely while high. it only made his crush grow ten times bigger. maybe you were more alike than he thought?

he followed you on instagram first, and was incredibly pleased when he received a notification that you requested to follow him too a little while later.

the school year was going by fast. valentine's day was coming in hot, and small tables were set up to send a rose with a note to whomever you pleased. jj decided to do it.

he wrote your name on the little card, writing a small message about how talented he thought you were as an artist, and that one day he'd love to buy your work. he left a heart at the bottom with no name, and carried on with his day.

on valentine's day, he could see roses being handed to people left and right. this was the first time in a while he'd seen you in the cafeteria during lunch instead of the art room, but then again he was hardly ever there. you were sitting at a table with people from the chess club, reading a book as you ate.

god, you were so different from him.

a student approached you with a handful of roses, and handed you two. jj tried to push down the jealousy that bubbled up. did you have a boyfriend he didn’t know about?

one of them you rolled your eyes at, the other made you smile. he hoped it was his. you studied the flower for a while before looking around the room, eyes eventually locking onto his. he tried to stop his cheeks from going red, resorting to hiding his face and turning away from you.

why the hell did you make him so nervous? he was jj fucking maybank. talking to girls was an easy feat for him — it had never been a problem before. he felt different with you though, less like you were another to fool around with mindlessly, and more like you were someone he actually wanted to get to know.

when he had the courage to look back at you, you were gone.

the end of the year bonfire was a big tradition on Kildare island. all kooks and pogues would gather together at the boneyard for a night of partying and officially transition from school year, to summer.

it wasn't as big or fun as the end of summer bonfire when all the tourons would join in, but it was still a good time.

jj had shown up with pope, meeting kiara and john b there. to his surprise, they were talking to you.

none of his friends knew about the massive crush he harboured. he kept it quiet cause he didn't know how to actually deal with his feelings, so he swept them under the rug and accepted that you'd never acknowledge him, let alone like someone as damaged as he was.

but when kiara pointed out him and pope to you, you smiled.

she introduced you to them, pope shook your hand and jj offered a shy wave. he could feel the way john b was eyeing him down at his actions, the bastardly flush returning to his cheeks and ears. the boy smiled at his friend, asking kiara and pope to join him for a beer, purposely leaving jj alone with you.

you broke the silence first.

"kiara told me you're a really good surfer" you'd said.

he shrugged, "yeah, i guess. been doing it my whole life." he couldn't look at you. he wanted to, badly, but he was so unbelievably scared. instead, he dug his foot in the sand, kicking and twisting.

any other time he would have boasted about being the best surfer on the island, but he couldn’t right now. why the hell couldn’t he talk himself up to the girl he likes?

"i'm terrible at it. i tried last summer for the first time and i think i spent more time in the water trying to fight it than actually standing on the board" you joked, and he let out a small laugh.

"have you ever thought about like, being an instructor or whatever for beginners?"

were you hinting at him?

"not really, but it does sound like a good idea. maybe i'll start, be a good summer gig" he shrugged, finally looking over to you.

he'd spent so much time admiring you from afar or through instagram posts, but he was still just as mesmerized. you were absolutely unreal up close. the sun was behind you, illuminating you as if you were an angel. you had incredibly smooth looking skin, and it looked liked you’d spent lots of time outside; a subtle tan accompanied by a tinge of pink across your nose and cheeks. there was a small scar on the middle of your nose.

he wondered where it came from.

"i can be test subject number one,” you suggested, “if you can't help me, then i'm afraid there's no hope for either of us."

conversation flowed easy after that. he learned that you left the academy simply because everyone was a massive dickhead, and you weren't about that. he learned about your childhood injuries (including the scar, that you got from pulling a cats tail) and dreams, your current dreams, and that you weren't as scary as he made you out to be.

actually, he felt rather calm talking to you once he got past his nerves. it was like catching up with an old friend he didn't know he was missing.

you talked all night long, neither of you realizing you'd completely ignored your friends until they came up to you saying they were heading home. looking up, you realized most people had already left. jj's friends looked at him expectantly, while he looked at you.

"you staying?"

you looked around for your friends, unable to spot them anywhere. "guess i should head home. my friends already left i think."

jj nodded and stood up, offering a hand to help you. you walked to the parking area with them, and said your goodbyes once they were at their van. "where's your car?"

"oh, i didn't drive, my friend did" you told him.

"and they just left you?!"

you shrugged, "i don't mind the walk."

jj pursed his lips in thought. the nice thing to do right now was offer you a ride, but he didn't want to be nice. he wanted to be a little selfish and have more time with you.

"i'll walk with you" he said before closing the van door and jogging over to you, not saying a word to his friends. the way you smiled at that made his heart jump with glee.

the entire way, you didn't stop talking. both of you were on a roll of asking questions and sharing stories, laughing and walking as slow as you could so you'd have more time. it was electric. for the first time in a long time, jj felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be, and he was happy with it. he felt good, like this life wasn’t so bad after all.

your hands brushed together as you walked, legs moving in sync. occasionally your shoulders would bump into the other. by the time you got home, it was nearly 2am.

jj walked you right to the door. seeing your house was a reminder of how different you were, it slightly bruised his ego and confidence again, but then you looked at him and it all washed away.

it was obvious that neither of you wanted to say goodbye, but you were the one to make the move and ask for his number.

"sorry if i bored you to death tonight and kept you away from all the fun party stuff" you said as you put your phone back in your pocket.

jj shook his head. "i was so far from bored. i had a lot of fun with you. actually i—" he let out a big breath, "i wanted to talk to you all year, i was just nervous."

"what! really?"

he nodded. "yeah. kiara recognized you from the academy, and at first i tried to get her to go make friends with you, but she was scared cause of all the shit that happened there.

"and then every time i wanted to talk to you, you were so busy and focused on your art or reading, and i didn't want to interrupt. which, by the way, you're an incredible artist. if i ever get rich one day, ill be your number one buyer."

you smiled at him, your heart swelling at the realization that the anonymous rose you'd received on valentine's day, was from him.

"so it was you, then?" you asked, just to be sure. you spent so long wondering who it was from, the idea of finally knowing was extremely exciting.

he gave you a confused look, then started to blush. "yeah. it was me” he nodded.

you remembered seeing him that day after you read the note, you thought he was cute. you'd noticed him a lot after that, as he walked past the art room or any other class you were in, seeing him in the halls. you never thought he'd noticed you, though. you always thought he was too cool to pay attention to someone like you.

bouncing on the balls of your feet, you reached up and kissed his cheek. "goodnight, jj" you smiled before turning to your door.

"goodnight" he spoke quietly, giving a small wave and smile as you shut the door.

you watched from the window as he held his hand to where you kissed him and stared at the stars. if only you could see the shit eating grin on his face.

once you washed up for the night and got back to your room, you couldn't help the smile that came when you looked at the dried up rose on your dresser, note still attached.

maybe it was against some silly island rule of kooks vs. pogues that you had a crush on the boy, but you didn't care. there was something special about him. something that made you feel like you were on top of the world, in the safest place ever.

like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

like you were home.

don’t be shy, reblog!

feel free to send a request

[i-messed-up-big-time]

Lonely Birthday - Rafayel

Rafayel x Non Mc/Reader

a/n: me when i have way too many ideas and end up pushing the other ones to the back burner. this is rafayel's part to the lonely birthday series i was doing, first part is xavier's! will also be including caleb too since when i first wrote xavier's it was pre-caleb.

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

Tags: angst, happy ending, female pronouns, reader is not MC, female pronouns, cursing, use of pet names (baby)

word count: 3.3k

masterlist

Xavier Zayne Sylus Caleb

Rafayel

You and Rafayel had been dating for a year but had been friends for well over 3 years.

He was the one to ask you out and it was simply perfect, he had set up his house for a cute little romantic evening where you two had a candlelit dinner with your favourite dish, night painting on the beach, and then ended it off with watching the sun rise before heading back inside to sleep.

Rafayel had always managed to make you feel so loved and appreciated.

So where did it go wrong?

You loved celebrating birthdays, whether it was yours or someone else's. It was a day worth celebrating, a day meant just for you.

You always gave more than you received, but it never mattered because seeing the joy on other people's faces was more than enough for you.

Then Rafayel came along and showed you what it meant to also be on the receiving end, to be important to someone and not just be the floater friend.

He taught you self worth, but more importantly he taught you how wonderful it was to be someone's priority.

But then she walked into his life.

You were never the jealous type, always respectful of the friendships that Rafayel had outside of your relationship, but something in you had settled the seeds of doubt, and a woman's intuition was never wrong.

●・○・●・○・●・

You and Rafayel had been planning this birthday date for a couple of months now. You both planned to go to the aquarium for a lunch surrounded by the cute sea creatures, after that you had tickets booked to watch the latest instalment of your favourite movie series followed by a light dinner at home and a surprise that Rafayel had planned, one that he would refuse to tell you no matter how much you probed.

Unfortunately, the weeks leading up to your birthday were nothing but anxiety filled. Lately, Rafayel has been hanging out with his new bodyguard more often than you'd like to acknowledge.

You were never one to police who he can and can't hang out with, but there was just something about her and the way he acted around her that had you feeling insecure, but you'd rather not admit that out loud.

Every time you guys spent time together it was always 'Miss Bodyguard this' or 'Miss Bodyguard that,' it got to a point where you had to subtly point it out as to not come off as a jealous or controlling girlfriend.

And it worked, for a day.

You had called Rafayel the day before your birthday to confirm that your plans were still happening.

"Yeah, yeah don't worry cutie. I'll be there."

You felt a bit of relief when he said yes, but it didn't last too long.

You felt that ugly feeling of jealousy and doubt creep up on you multiple times throughout the day, you tried your hardest to not let it cloud your mind and ruin your birthday before it even started.

You should've just listened to that gut feeling.

●・○・●・○・●・

It was the morning of your birthday, you had woken up feeling less than refreshed. You had been tossing and turning all night, the feeling of unease never leaving as the time kept passing by.

You checked your phone and spotted quite a few birthday messages from your friends, but you didn't see one from Rafayel.

You knew he spent most of his nights awake, and he would never miss the chance to be the first one to wish you at midnight.

You pushed down that feeling of disappointment and decided to start your day with a little pick-me-up treat. Since you were planning on visiting your favourite café, you decided to dress up— that way you would be ready for your lunch date as well.

You spent a few hours at the café, taking cute pictures of yourself and the goodies that you bought. Soon it was time to head over the aquarium. You trusted Rafayel when he said he would be there, he never really gave you a reason not to.

Getting to the aquarium, you settled on a bench nearby the entrance waiting for Rafayel to show up. An hour passed by and it was nearing the time for your lunch reservation. You gave him a quick ring only for it to go straight to voicemail, trying a few more times only to get the same result.

You assumed his phone had died and hoped he was on his way. You decided it was better for you to wait inside at the table, that way your reservation wouldn't be cancelled.

The setting was beautiful, there was only a limited amount of tables all under a dome of glass where the marine life swam above you. Colours of blue made the whole thing feel so scenic and calm.

Sitting at your table you snapped a few pics of your surroundings and decided to order some appetizers, that way by the time they came Rafayel would already be here.

You waited, and waited— and then waited some more, but two hours had passed and Rafayel didn't show up.

You were worried, and just as you were ready to call him again for the umpteenth time, your eye spotted a moments notification from her.

You don't know what compelled you to open it, but you did. You could almost hear the sound of your heart shattering.

There, on her moments post, was Rafayel with his arms wrapped around her waist and a beautiful necklace that glimmered like light reflecting on a waters surface sitting delicately around her neck. It was captioned, 'When your cute boss surprises you with a beautiful gift and planned a whole day of fun for your birthday!'

It was insane how her birthday just happened to be the same day as yours.

Before you even realized it, you were crying. You quickly gathered yourself together and settled the bill, not missing the way everyone who looked at you had pity in their eyes.

Rushing out of the aquarium you beelined it home, not wanting to be around anyone.

When you finally reached the confines of your home you let it all out, collapsing near the door you sobbed until your voice was hoarse and there were no more tears left to cry.

Forcing yourself off the floor, you decided to take a hot shower and change into something more comfortable.

Your shower ended up being longer than you expected it to be, round 2 of yours tears started and you sat with your knees against your chest as the hot water fell from above.

You didn't notice how much time had passed while you were in the shower. The only thing that did get you out was the fact that you had used up all the hot water and that your fingertips were pruny.

You didn't even bother to dry your hair, just wanting to curl up in bed as soon as possible, praying for the day to be over.

It was hard keeping yourself from crying when every little thing reminded you of him. Hell your whole room was filled with all sorts of trinkets and memories of him.

It wasn't about the birthday, but about the fact that you guys had planned a whole day of just you two together, no distractions. You even had Thomas sign an agreement to not bother you guys today!

'Clearly that was all for nothing.'

You scoffed and wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself, the warmth bringing you a tiny bit of comfort.

God knows how long you spent in that one position, zoning in and out or reality, your mind and heart still refusing to grasp the situation but your body reacting with a never ending stream of silent tears.

You know what the insane part was? It wasn't the fact that Rafayel was out spending time with her, but rather the fact that you didn't even receive a single call or text from him. Just radio silence.

It's like anything having to do with you was just wiped from his memory.

As time passed on, you noticed your body crying out in hunger but you didn't have the strength to get up.

A part of you thought that you were being too dramatic, but the teenage girl in you felt like she was in high school again, when you were just the floater friend when the friends they wanted to hang out with were busy, when you were always an afterthought and not the first one.

You never thought you'd feel that with Rafayel, he always made you his number one priority. He knew about your insecurities and always assured you that he'd never put you in that position, ever.

"I guess at some point it was bound to happen." You whispered to yourself as tears fell once again. You just wanted to forget about today and sleep, rolling over you grabbed a bottle out of your bedside drawer. You took the sleeping pill and just laid there, waiting for it to kick in.

It didn't take long for the pills to kick in, closing your eyes you let yourself get enveloped by the darkness.

●・○・●・○・●・

Rafayel

It was late when he got back to his studio, he had this feeling that he was forgetting something but brushed it off.

If it was important I would've remembered it.

Oh how he would soon regret that thought.

He entered his studio expecting to be greeted by his lovely girlfriend, he even got her these desserts that MC loves so much.

"I should charge my phone first, it kept going off so MC took my phone and wouldn't even let me see who was contacting me."

He looked around but didn't see you anywhere. His studio was eerily quiet, Rafayel brushed it off as you having gone to bed considering how late it was.

Making his way to his room, he noticed how the bed looked untouched.

How weird, surely she should have been in bed by now.

He put his phone on charge, cursing it to charge faster.

That's when he saw it all, having been too preoccupied this morning with MC he missed out on his reminder.

Y/N's b-day! Don't forget your lunch reservation at the Linkon Aquarium! And absolutely do not let Thomas bother you about exhibitions!!!

It felt like cold water had been dumped on him as he read the reminder he wrote a few weeks back.

"I screwed up, fuck."

Rafayel started to freak out, his mind running a mile a minute. He quickly grabbed his phone and keys before bolting out of the house to your place.

Normally, you stay at his place more than yours since you guys had very limited quality time and being at his place made it easier to at least spend some time together. Although occasionally you did go home from time to time.

He beelined it to your place, praying you would forgive him. Although he wouldn't blame you if you didn't.

Hell if he was in your position he probably wouldn't forgive himself either! Instead of spending your birthday with you, he was out with another woman spending time with her for her birthday without even so much as a word from him.

As he reached your place he rushed up the stairs to your floor, the elevator taking too long to come. His hands were shaking so much that he struggled to put in your passcode.

After finally typing in the right code Rafayel rushed in, messily throwing off his shoes. He frantically looked around your apartment for you, not seeing you in the living room or kitchen he sped to your room.

The sight in front of him broke him beyond words.

Even in the dark he could see your eyes were puffy, probably from crying so much, there were tears that still stained your cheeks.

He carefully walked towards the edge of the bed, kneeling down so he was next to your head. Rafayel carefully wiped your cheeks, drying them of the tears you shed because of his stupidity.

"I'm so sorry, I know an apology won't fix the hurt I've caused you. Today was supposed to be your special day but I messed it all up."

Rafayel whispered as he gently stroked your cheeks. He stayed in that position until he eventually fell asleep, afraid that if he let go you would disappear.

●・○・●・○・●・

The next morning you awoke to the feeling of someone's hands on your face.

Knowing you went to bed alone, you quickly shot up in a state of panic, grabbing the nearest object to defend yourself.

It took your eyes a moment to adjust before you noticed the concerned eyes staring back at you.

Rafayel moved to get closer to you but you held a hand up, stopping him in his tracks.

"Don't you dare come near me. Get out right now!"

You were never one to raise your voice, but the feelings from yesterday were still fresh.

Rafayel looked shocked that you would raise your voice, but he still persisted. Not wanting to let you be alone anymore than he already made you.

He grabbed your hands but you yanked them right out, you really didn't want to do this so early in the morning.

"Please just let me explain."

Rafayel begged, he could feel your emotions radiating off of you in waves. It hurt him to know he was the one who did this to you, but he'd be damned if he didn't do anything to make it better.

"There's nothing to explain Rafayel. I know who you were with, clearly she is more important than your own fucking girlfriend!"

You felt appalled by his audacity to even try to give you an excuse, there was nothing he could say or do that could bring back yesterday. He made his choice, and it wasn't you.

A small part of you felt like you were overreacting, but a larger part of you validated your feelings.

Yes it was the first time he did something like this, but that doesn't mean you should bend over backwards and forgive him just because he said sorry.

You got up and grabbed his arm, knowing how persistent he is you know he wouldn't leave your apartment, at the very least you can kick him out your room.

Pushing him out the room, you slammed and locked the door before he even had time to process what was happening.

Everything you were holding in came bursting out like a flood. You didn't care if Rafayel was on the other side of the door, the hurt you felt yesterday came back ten fold when you saw his face.

On the other side, Rafayel had his forehead against the door. The pain in your cries made it feel like he was being stabbed over and over again.

He knew if he went in there he would just make things worse for himself, but he couldn't just stand there and listen to your broken sobs.

He picked the lock and gently opened the door, unsure of how close you were to the door, and because he didn't want to risk adding physical pain to the emotional pain you were already going through.

Letting himself in he found you on the floor at the end of your bed, he made his way over and scooped you in his arms before settling down on your bed with you in his lap.

He wrapped his arms around your waist as you tried to push yourself off of him, his hold was tight but not restricting.

You beat his chest with your fists muttering curses at him through your tears. Rafayel just sat there and let you have your way, hoping it brought you some comfort.

When your hits became weaker he shifted to pull you closer to his chest, your forehead now on his shoulders as you sobbed messily. Rafayel rubbed your back soothingly, trying to get you to calm down a bit.

You started to relax a bit in his warm embrace, but you were still on edge.

"Do you want to talk to me now baby?"

He spoke softly, the pain of seeing you in this condition leaking into his voice.

"You left me, and for another woman at that?"

You said after a few moments of silence.

"How could you forget about me? Do I mean that little to you now that you have Miss Bodyguard?"

You looked up at him, the tears streaming down your face. He reached up to wipe them away but you turned your face before he could and wiped them yourself.

He retracted his hands and placed them back on your waist, rubbing circles on them.

"No baby, you mean the world to me. I know it's not an excuse but it's my judgement gets cloudy when I'm around her."

You gave him a look that was a mix between 'what the fuck' and 'your words are not helping your case here.'

As bad as the timing was he let out a little chuckle.

"It's not something I can explain in simple words, but if you give me the chance I'll tell you everything without missing a single detail."

●・○・●・○・●・

Rafayel took the time to thoroughly explain everything to you regarding his past and MC. He constantly stressed multiple times that you were the one he chose and this life and would continue to choose in every other life after this.

You deliberated over his words, it was all a lot to take in, but it definitely helped you understand the situation more.

Not that it forgives him for leaving you alone, on your birthday no less.

“Wait, did you get her a birthday present too?”

You questioned, just now remembering the necklace from the photo.

Rafayel looked at you confused.

“I didn’t even know it was her birthday, why would I give her a birthday present?”

You narrowed your eyes at him in suspicion. Leaning over you grabbed your phone and pulled up the photo, making sure he got a good look at the caption too.

Rafayel snatched your phone the moment he saw it, looking at it with confusion with a hint of anger.

“Baby I promise on the seas I never did any of that! She’s the one who had planned everything and she was already wearing that necklace when I saw her.”

Rafayel explained. You were confused as to why she would go this far to post a lie, it didn’t sit right with you.

“Don’t worry I’ll make sure to no longer have her as my bodyguard, I won’t ever contact her.”

Rafayel said as he took a whole of your face.

"I don't want you to feel like I'm controlling who you employ or interact wi—"

"Absolutely not."

Rafayel cut you off.

"I would never feel that way, ever. This post though, it's really weird and I don't want this type of energy around us. I cherish you too much for that."

He spoke with a tone that was meant to assure me, that something like this will never happen again.

You nod and rest your head against his shoulder again, feeling more drained than yesterday.

"You're still not forgiven for yesterday, you have to make it up to me."

You said with a big yawn, feeling your eyes get heavier.

Rafayel chuckles before laying down with you snuggled on top of him.

"I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if that's how long it takes for you to forgive me."

He kisses the top of your head and then pulls the covers around you both.

"Now sleep, I'll be right here when you wake up."

He wrapped an arm around your waist, while his other hand rubbed your back soothingly.

Letting out a hum, you relaxed further into his hold, letting sleep envelop you.

[sashi-ya]

𝑪𝑼𝑻𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑭𝑹𝑬𝑬𝑫𝑶𝑴 「 part 1 」 soshiro hoshina x f! officer! reader

a/n: yes! first Kaiju no. 8 fic ever! idk how many of you would like to read from Kaiju but I've been obsessed with it lately, and especially with Soshiro. it's pretty short and wrote it cause I needed to think of other things after studying. So yeah, enjoy! tw: there aren't "sex" scenes, however mdni as it has suggestive language, nudity and mature content. (thank god for this manga having almost every character above 25!). Pretty much inspired on Soshi's backstory from Kaiju no 8 side B, so expect fluff too. what happened on the following days? more Soshiro smut, here. masterlist

“I can’t take the suit off” you murmur, trying to lower the front zipper. The mission took much more than what you expected, and the kaiju stench is making you nauseous.

For the time being, most of your squad members have already jumped into the showers. But you, still trying to get out of the suit, haven’t.

“I… this shit… why is it not working?” you protest, forcing the zipper more and more, but it hasn’t been able to go down past the beginning of your chest.

You try to look for the intercom; pressing it to call the Operations leader Konomi, will surely help you out with the captive suit. But, you can’t find it. Did you lose the little intercom before coming back to the base? Or did it fell around there?

Everything seems to be flaunting tonight. It’s late, you are tired. You’ve been hit several times by different Kaiju, but none of them -luckily- was able to injure you.

However, you begin to feel an incredible -and uncontrollable- heat coming from the suit itself and reaching the inner layers of your skin and organs.

You don’t panic. At first.

You definitely panic two minutes later, when the heat is unbearable and the pain in such restrictive jail is almost deadly.

“Help…” you whine, not loud enough to be heard by anyone else. Or at least, definitely not enough to be listened over the lively chattering coming from the showers.

But it hurts, as much as the acid of those despicable monsters when their core explode. And it really begins to interfere with your breathing, and thus, with your consciousness.

“Help me… I’m burning…” you scream louder this time. But no one comes, and your knees hit the ground in pain.

Tears flood up your eyes, your nails aren’t enough to tear the thick skin of Izumo Techs’ innovative suit. No guns are enough, probably, even if you had the chance to go grab yours… it wouldn’t be useful.

You pray, you wish for someone to cut that trap into pieces.

“H- help… me…” “WHAT IS IT?!”

In between blurred eyes and painful frown, you device an angel of slanted eyes and deep purple hair.

“I… the suit… it’s boiling… it’s overheating… I can’t take it off” you grasp a little bit of air and try to communicate -effectively- the reason of your suffering.

“Stay quiet” he commands, and you comply. There is nothing you wouldn’t do to go against his orders.

An immediate relief comes with enough cuts that you couldn’t even see. Completely naked, completely soaked in sweat. There you lay, panting, with still stings of pain reverberating all over your skin.

“Come here” he says, ripping the remaining pieces off the suit still ferally attached to your burning skin. And as feral as the suit is, the feral his hands are when ripping its pieces away.

“Vice-captain Hoshina… th-thank you…” you cry, completely unaware of your impure show off.

His eyes open widely, and for the first time you see the beautiful bloody irises he usually keeps hidden away. But his expression is not jovial, nor even neutral. He is by far worried.

Probably for the first time in ages, the blades have fallen to the ground and with those same hands he saved your life he hurries to carry you to the men’s showers.

At the speed of light, cold water begins to gush from the showerheads. Your body feels instant relief; so much there is even some vapor coming from your skin.

As it bathes you, it also bathes him.  Completely dressed, Soshiro gets drenched in the same water as you. And, as his hair becomes wet, one of his hands moves it out of his face, revealing his façade completely.

Your arms hang from his shoulders into his back. Your knees, fight to keep you standing up even if the one actually holding you up is no other than him.

Soshiro is completely mute, and so do you. There is, maybe, no need to speak.

He lets his jacket slide through his shoulders to finally fall into the shower’s floor. The compressive shirt underneath gets also wet, becoming something like a second skin of him. Showing off the hours of training, and why he is the vice-captain of your division.

Immorally, you that were on the brink of death a couple of minutes ago, now feel in heaven because of your saviour. Because of your blades wielding hero.

Once again, he was able to save a life with those thinly cut masses of iron.

His hand, with soft but still steady pace, clean something off your back. And for that your breasts are pressed against his chest. You can see his neck from the side, as he tries to take a deeper look at your shoulder blades. You inhale the scent of his skin, a mix of sweat from the last battle and manly hints of fresh perfume.

“You got them almost engraved on your skin. What the fuck? The suits aren’t supposed to hurt you this way” he whispers, close to your ear. “We should go to the medical pavilion, now” he adds.

You nod, feeling how everything has started to spin around you and your stamina decreases more and more.

“Thank you, Soshi- Hoshina fuku Taichou…” you babble, realizing your faces are closer that what they should ever be and your arms and his are interlocked pretty strongly to the other’s body.

He takes a deep breath through his tiny nose, looking at you with lazy eyes. Just a tiny line of red is visible, as tiny as the opening of his lips that let prominent fangs barely flash.

Soshiro’s chest goes up and down, harder every time. His muscles tense more and more, especially the ones on his neck. His hug gets even tighter, pulling you so closer that ever before.

“It’s… ok…” he barely words; something is affecting that man… and it’s probably all your body, all your still warm skin being his for at least a couple of minutes, the way your lips have become red and pouty, your sloppy eyes and the warmth of your breath closer to his mouth.

“What happened!!??” “Vice-captain?!” “are you two allr-“ the girls scream in terror. Probably, once they were out of the showers they faced the dantesque scenery of blades lying on the ground and a anti kaiju suit completely destroyed and fuming scattered all over the floor.

Within seconds, not only the officers of squad 3 have reached the place but also the men. Some of them, thinking not the worst… but probably that Hoshina fuku Taichou and you have finally caved in for lust.

With a fast reaction, Soshiro grabs the coat of his own uniform to cover you up. And with a much more severe tone ever heard, he orders Kikoru to call Mina and Okomi and let them know he is taking a badly injured officer to the medical pavilion. As for the rest, a scary deadly look over his shoulder was enough to make them run away from the place allowing him to pass.

You, however, couldn’t quite experience such happenings, as your consciousness had fade away right before your comrades arrived.

A soft white light shines in between your shut eyes; the sound of unknown solitude reaches your ears as well as the synchronic beep of your heart reflected on a machine.

“What-“ you mumble, regaining consciousness. Your body feels cold, and you are thankful for that. Your limbs are heavy, but you can move them. Your lips and mouth are dry, but you smile as you remember vague flashes of Soshiro and you under the shower.

You finally open your eyes to discover you are indeed at some kind of medical facility, soon remembering this is the place you all come when you are severely injured after battle.

Everything on your body seems to be on its place, and for that you breathe alleviated. Thankful to your hero, you wonder how to thank him when you are out of here… or maybe, you just plan to leave the squad as he has seen you completely naked.

“I didn’t know you were awake already” a well-known voice scares you away. You try to stand up, but his hand stops you from doing so.  “I couldn’t sleep, I was worried for you” he says, with that sweet funny tone he often uses to communicate.

There is, as far as you could see, anyone around but you and him. Soshiro, who apparently couldn’t sleep, has come to see you.

Your cheeks burn, and it’s not because of a defective suit now. It is because, you are deeply embarrassed, and still, something inside you is jumping with genuine happiness to see him here.

“I’m ok, Sir. But.. you didn’t have to come! I’m deeply thankful for you saving my life, and I promise you I will replace the uniform you got all wet” you say, trying to look away from him who has came closer to your bed.

Soshiro bursts out laughing, the way he only knows how to. He grabs his stomach, and soon flashes of the way those abs looked with wet fabric sticked to them, makes you shiver.

“You- you should worry for your own suit! Not mine!” he continues laughing while, little by little, he ends up sitting right on the bed. “By the way, you know why your suit almost killed you?” he asks.

You swallow. What- why is he sitting next to you?

 You shake your head in denial, out of words, because you couldn’t think of a reason for such big flaw on that impressive technological miracle.

Soshiro, who is well known for being at least a little bit irreverent -and that’s exactly what you love the most about him-, gets himself comfortable next to you. He lies back, as you move to the side to make him some space.

Now, the scent of his skin is clean and delicious -even more than earlier-. And you can smell it, because there isn’t much room to be separated on a single bed.

“Well… you had a piece of Kaiju tooth stuck on your lower back. Therefore, the suit either processed it as a threat or… it reacted with the pieces of kaiju within it. In any case, you will be given a new one in a couple of days” he tells you, with his right arm stuck underneath the back of his head.

His bicep, perfectly moulded to be strong, but still lightweight to be as agile as possible, protrudes with the hem of the compression shirt around it. Does he really know how sexy he looks? Or he is absolutely unaware of the effects he has?

“Oh…” you sigh. You take it as a personal failure; how were you not able to see it? “Don’t worry, this incident helped them to investigate further security measures… however, isn’t your back hurting?” he asks, this time turning to you.

You deny, again, without any words coming from your mouth. But there isn’t much you could do, when Soshiro turns you around so that your back faces him.

“You do, in fact, have a big bruise. I should report this, too” he comments, as his soft index travels down your spine, to the small of your back.

Your eyes, opened big enough to look like moons, have stopped seeing all around and all you can think of is the proximity of that man to you.

“You good?” he murmurs, ignorant of everything happening to your body. “Ye-yes, vice-captain. I wanna thank you for taking care of us the way you do; hadn’t been for you, I’d be dead by now…” you pull those words from who knows where, even if your muscles seem paralyzed from his touch. Your speech sounds like those you give when you follow commands during battle.

He laughs; this time softer and sweeter. You can feel his body coming closer, enough to feel the tip of his nose grazing your neck.

“We should have each other’s backs in here, or else… but most importantly, being told my blades will not be useful to fight and protect, you remind me once again that they indeed can” he whispers, making your skin shiver.

It’s clear that he wants you. And you want him, too.  And you always knew, and he always knew. And all of them, too.  Why, just now, on a place where you should be monitored, there were nobody around if not?

“Can I rest here for a minute?” he asks, as his forehead lands on your nape. “All the time you want, Vice-captain” you answer back, smiling softly.

You slowly relax, as his hand slides in the most delicate way towards your belly to hug you. Your hand, also delicate, fall on top of his, confirming how much you would love for him to touch you like this forever.

“Call me Soshiro when we are like this, ok?” he murmurs, planting the first kiss right on your shoulder.

You turn around, slowly. Even if you would love to stay the way you were, you can’t stop yourself from wanting to see his face.

“Soshiro…” you whisper, coming closer to his lips. “That’s better…” he smiles, kindly.

And one kiss, and then another came by… and thankfully, that night, there were no more Kaiju around.

[thebestsetter]

Thinking about (lovesick) Hiori Yo keeping a diary.

His parents have always been emotionally unavaible. For them, Hiori was nothing more nothing less than an experiment, the one destined to be what they've always wanted to be and yet never managed to acomplish: someone who wears the title of being "the best in the world".

He also didn't have much (if any) friends. All his time was dedicated to football practice, so the only people he talked to (aside from his parents) were his teammates. And they were nice, sure, but they were not his friends. They were more like acquaintances. The only one he could really call a friend was one of his teammates, Karasu Tabito, and even so he still didn't feel comfortable enough talking to him about the complex thoughts he had.

Because of that, he's never had anyone to talk with. No one to confide about his feelings and emotions. No one to talk about how he wanted to leave his home house (that place didn't feel like a home). How his parents fucked up his sanity. How he didn't really like football that much.

He couldn't keep all these things inside his head anymore. He needed to pour these feelings out. That's why he decided to start a diary.

Grabbing an old notebook and one of those common blue pens, he started writing. The diary was his most treasured possession. It stayed locked inside his bedside table, being away from all of the prying eyes.

Writing felt good. He wrote about his strained relationship with his parents. About soccer practices. About gaming tips. About pretty much everything.

His thoughts about many different themes were written there. That's why his journal didn't really have a specific theme.

Well, at least in the beggining it didn't have.

Because ever since a month or so, all the pages on his diary began to revolve around a girl. You.

He met you during a rather boring math class. The teacher was rambling on and on about algebrics or whatever, and time seemed to freeze because of how utterly shitty the endless class seemed.

"His explanation sucks, doesn't it?"

He heard a female voice coming from beside him. When he turned to the direction of the sound, he saw the prettiest girl he had ever met.

Her hair framed her face perfectly, it's color matching her eyes in the most beautiful way Yo had ever seen. The smile she had on her face seemed to shine, and Hiori found himself smiling back, too.

"Yeah" he sighed, then looked back at the teacher

"I just wish the old hag would shut up"

"I wish he would just shut up"

They spoke at the same time.

Looking at eachother, they both began to laugh. Hard. Clutching your stomach and tearing up kind of laugh. Snorting like a pig laugh. Wheezing. Hitting the table with your fist to try and stop with the loud laughing, but being phisically incapable of stopping.

"Hiori Yo and (Name) (Lastname). Do you want to share with the class what made you laugh so hard? I'm sure they want to laugh to."

"N-No, mister. We're sorry. We-We'll stop" you answered, still trying to stiffle your laugh

"Do not interrupt my class again, or else I'll send you both to the principal's office"

"Okay sir." Hiori answered, not believing a word the teacher said but still a little scared to have his parents find out he went to the principal's office

"Hiori Yo, huh?" You said "It suits you"

"Thank you, miss (Name) (Lastname)." Hiori smirked "Your name is very pretty. It also suits you"

"Oh, so you think I'm pretty?" You smirked, a mischevious and playful glint on your eyes.

"N-no!" Hiori blushed hard, averting your gaze. His accent got stronger like it always did when he became nervous, and he was quick to correct himself "I-I mean, yes! You're very pretty! B-but I didn't mean to say t-that. Not that you're not pretty! Is just that..."

He was interrupted by the sound of your laugh mixed with the bell signalizing the end of the school day. It's obnoxious sound was such a contrast from your sweet, honey-like melodic laugh.

"Don't worry, I was just teasing you!" You smiled at him, grabbing your backpack and getting up "Well, see you on the next advanced math period, mister Hiori Yo"

You then quickly left, leaving behind a red and speechless Hiori.

He has been obsessed in love with you ever since. He wanted to be with you all of the time, no exceptions. You were just so nice! It seemed like his problems disappeared when you were near. Life seemed brighter, and even his parents noticed the change in his behavior. He was more carefree, happier, lighter.

And never once did he forget to write in his diary. In fact, he wrote about you so much he decided to rip the pages about his parents and other things and make the journal solely based on you.

He wrote about the dates he wanted to go to with you. Wrote about how he wanted to hold hands with you, kiss you till you're both breathless, stargaze with you, game with you. Do basically everything with you.

He detailed how he wanted to confess to you: you would both be in a park, having a picnic, when he would suddenly pull a bouquet from his backpack and put his feelings on the table, making it clear he viewed you as more than a friend. And then you'd laugh and say you like him too, making fun of his strong accent and how much effect you had over him.

Not that he'd mind. As long as your attention was on him, you could humilliate him all you want. He was pathetic.

He even wrote about your wedding, the petunias he wanted to give you and how Hiori (Name) had such a nice ring to it.

He wrote everything in his diary. And that was his fatal flaw.

Because he also wrote about how he wanted to spend his practice time with you. How he wanted to give up on soccer and move in with you to a house on the countryside, just you and him. How he sometimes skipped practices just to go out with you.

"Mom? Dad?"

He would never have thought that, one day, he would forget to lock the diary up. And who would've guessed it would fall in the hands of his parents, who have no idea of privacy.

"Yo, we need to talk about this"

When Hiori saw the notebook in his dad's hand, he swallowed dry. He felt like crying just by imagining what they wanted to discuss about.

Maybe they didn't read it. Yeah, maybe they still respected their son, at least a little bit.

"W-what? How did you..."

"It was on your bed." His mom answered, a stern expression on her face "me and your father came to an agreement after reading it, and..."

"You read it?!" Hiori was furious and sad at the same time. Not surprised, no. He knew they would've done this. "You can't do this! My personal thoughts are in there! It's my diary! You're invading my privacy!"

"Bullshit. Teenagers do not have nor need privacy" his father cut him off "Whatever. What matters is that we read about that (Name) girl. And we've decided..."

No. He can say anything but what he thinks they're bout to say. He can't handle that.

"We don't want you around that girl anymore. She's getting in the way of your football practices. That's why...

We're moving you to a different school."

No...

No.

NO!

"No she's not!" Hiori screamed, pleaded. He wished that for once his parents would listen to him, think about his feelings at least one time. "I love her! I swear I'll do double the practice! Just, please. Please don't do this" his voice was wavering. He was weak. "Please don't keep her away from me. Please."

"We do this cause we know what's best for you. We're your parents. We know you better than yourself." His mom tried to reason.

"No you don't!" Hiori screamed "She's the best thing that has ever happened to me! You can't do this to me! You can't decide these things in my behalf!"

"We're your parents. We can and we did. End of discussion." His dad gritted out, not an ounce of empathy in his face. "And we also decided you're not keeping a diary anymore. We don't want you hiding things from us."

With a swift move, he threw the notebook inside the fireplace.

"NO!" Hiori screamed, running to collect the ashes and try to save the diary, but it was already too late.

In his knees in front of the fire, Hiori cried. The flames were dancing around as if mocking his sadness, laughing at his disgrace.

He stayed there for so long he lost track of time. His parents were no longer in the room, deciding to finally give their son space. But he didn't want space.

He wanted you.

He stayed motionless until the last flame was unstinguished. And when it finally was, so was his hope for a better future. A future without his parents playing with the strings of his life all the time, treating him like a puppet. A future with no pain.

A future with you.

And so, a single page that survived flew and fell in front of him.

He picked it up.

Dear diary,

I think I can make up with my parents. I didn't told her about the whole situation since I don't want to burden her, but from what she heard, (Name) said we just need to talk. And maybe she's right. Maybe they'll like her just as much as I do, and we can be a big happy family. She makes me feel like everything is possible. I'm sure I love her, and I want to spend all my time by her side...

He couldn't read it anymore.

With a scream, Hiori tore the page apart.

~A/N: Sorry anon, idk how to write angst ☹️

Masterlist

[heartyluv]

Not the same anon that originally requested this, but I absolutely loved your fic where Zayne and Sylus react to you saying you want to be the first to die. The way you wrote their reactions was perfect and wonderful to read, and (if you’re interested, of course) I’d love to see how the other three guys would also reply to such a statement c:

I only recently found your account and I can’t wait to read through more of your works <3

Note: I’m so happy that you enjoyed and even more so that you’re considering reading more. It makes me super happy. I’m really hoping I wrote Xavier and Rafayel accurately. I’m kinda nervous about theirs, but I hope you enjoy, luvly!

Warning: Mentions of Xavier in an accident, Mentions of Caleb dying (THEY ARE OKAY!!!)

Link to Zayne and Sylus’ <3

Creds to @/enchanthings-a for the divider!

Rafayel

You were elated when your boyfriend invited you over for a little date in his studio. Of course you said yes, because not only is Rafayel hard to say no to, but his studio is one of your favorite places to be.

It’s where you feel your safest to create, and it’s not just about painting. You draw, color, and even write poetry when you’re there. You completely understood what he meant when he told you that the energy in this place was so empowering because you’ve experienced it first hand.

As you and he work on your own respective projects side by side, he starts telling you about how he recently rewatched Romeo and Juliet. You listened intently, even if you already knew the story. But it was as he told it that you found yourself growing slightly emotional.

The story is something almost everyone is familiar with, whether they learned it in school or took it upon themselves to read it on their own time.

The story of two people loving each other so much and so hard that it kills them, because the mere thought of them not being alive to experience life with you, build a stronger love with you, makes nothing else feel worth it—it’s incredibly heartbreaking. And now that you have a boyfriend, the sentiment is much heavier. The thought of Rafayel dying, stirs a pain so uncomfortable in your chest that you know never, ever want to experience it.

“Hey,” he calls to you gently, noticing how dazed out you seemed. He sees the tears forming right above your waterline when you face him, and immediate concern is etched across his ethereal face.

“Let me guess? It makes you cry too?” he teases, gently rubbing your cheek and smearing a faint light blue paint on your skin. “I’m not ashamed to say that I succumb to the emotions every time myself. I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t.”

But when you don’t laugh, when your lower lip quivers the more you memorize his features like he’ll disappear, he began to realize this has become something he needs to take a little more seriously.

“Did I say something wrong?” he asks innocently, completely dumbfounded by your change in emotions.

“I’m so sorry,” you finally speak, your words fumbling out as you wipe the tears from your eyes. You feel embarrassed, but you know better than to feel that way around him. He always makes sure you know that embarrassment will never be a real thing between you two. Nothing is off-limits. “It just…the story. It makes me think of you—of us.”

He tilts his head, his soft purple hair swaying across his forehead. “Oh? What do you mean?”

You sigh, taking a deep breath as you get ready to lay your little heart out on the table like you’ve done for him dozens of times.

“Rafayel, I legitimately cannot lose you,” you emphasize, feeling your heart thump harder in your chest from intense emotions. Your voice is shaky as you continue. “And I know this is so random and I didn’t mean to make you telling me about your movie night into a whole thing, but the thought of me experiencing anything in this life without you makes me..sick. It would break me. It makes me realize that I have to be the first one to go the day our time on this Earth is up.”

He smiles softly as you, cupping your cheek in his hand. “Have you seen how I act when you take more than five extra minutes to come home?”

That makes you laugh, a joyous feeling sparking in your being. Most people dislike anyone who turns something serious into something lighthearted, but your Raf always has a way of making heavy situations and conversations feel weightless.

“But in all seriousness,” his face shifts to match his tone to let you know that he takes your worries and thoughts seriously. “I don’t want to hear you talk like that. Ever. You know why?” He stands from his stool, walking to stand between your leg where you sit. “Because we are never going to be apart. I’ve already told you before, you’re not allowed to leave me.” He winks, making the tension ease.

“I’d swim across every ocean for you a million times over. For a man like me to find and experience the love of someone more glorious than himself, it’s not a privilege I take for granted. I’ve always been Rafayel, but I can admit that I will always be a better him, with you beside me. You add too much value and good to my life for you to ever think that I could actually survive without you. I can deal with a lot, but a world with no you? That’s too harsh.”

He presses his forehead to yours. “You have nothing to worry about. I feel just as intensely as you do, pretty girl. I don’t want you thinking of what could be. Think of everything in between, yeah?”

He leans down to kiss your lips and you desperately cling to him. “You’ll never lose me and l’ll never lose you, fair?”

You chuckle, knowing that conversations like this make his heart hurt, too. Similarly to you, your boyfriend hates the idea of abandonment or being separated from you for any reason. He doesn’t take the idea of it lightly. But when he needs to be stronger for you, there’s nothing powerful enough to crush his will to protect your heart.

“Fair,” you nod with a smile.

“Good. I’m glad we understand each other.” He kisses your nose. “Now, why don’t we go for a walk on the beach? We can see about getting something sweet on the way.” He holds his hand out to you and when you slide your hand into his, you know that no matter what the further holds, thinking of what you have now will always be more important.

Xavier

You almost had a heart attack when the hospital called you to let you know that your boyfriend has been in a car accident. They assured you it wasn’t serious, but the only person you’ve ever loved and accident being in the same sentence, made you experience emotions you never thought you were capable of.

They said he couldn’t have called you himself since he was going through some tests and check ups, but not being able to hear his voice made you feel…insane.

When you ran into the hospital, begging for his name and room number, a nurse walked you to him with too much ease. You needed her to be faster, much faster.

“He’s right there. Room 410,” the lady politely smiles. You can’t bother with kindness, moving past her and rushing into the room. He’s sitting on a hospital bed, his blood pressure being checked by the doctor standing beside him.

“Hon,” he says with slightly wide eyes. “I guess the hospital called you.”

“Xavier, oh my god,” you cry, running towards him. You cup his face in your hands, running your eyes over him like your scan is better than a doctor’s. “Are you in pain? How’s your head? Your body?” His eyes stay on you the whole time as you examine him, the doctor chuckling softly beside you both.

All you smell is alcohol, rubber gloves, and oversaturated—but necessary—cleanliness. You don’t like him here. You don’t like it one bit.

“You’re free to go home,” the doctor confirms. “Just make sure you take the pain medicine if you need it. Other than that, nothing to worry about.”

When the doctor leaves, you finally weep. You thought the absolute worst. You thought you lost him.

“I was so scared,” you cry, resting your head on his shoulder as his hands comes to the back of your head to soothe you. “What happened?”

“The taxi I was taking to come see you…A car came out of nowhere down the intersection on a red light, and it was a hard collision against the backseat area where I sat. I saw it last minute before I was able to move, just barely.”

“Xavier… I..” you trail off, not even wanting to finish. “I can’t lose you, Xav. I would rather die than lose you.”

“You don’t mean that,” he says gently, his hand going down your back.

“I do. I can’t live without you. We can’t control how it ends, but however it does, you can never be the one to go first. I’ll never survive it.”

“And neither would I,” he asserts. “A life without you is a life I don’t care to have. Losing you is essentially the death of me.” It falls silent between you two as he makes you pull back to look at him.

“How about this? How about both of us make it a point to be present for as long as we can. Like you said, while we can’t control the end, we can control what our current reality is. And that’s you and I together, loving each other, being here for each other.”

You nod, melting into his touch as he wipes your stray tears. “Don’t say things like that though, okay? Even in extreme situations as concerning as this. I don’t like to think of anything happening to you just as much as you don’t like it for me. Your life is too important to me for you to say anything so drastic over yourself.”

“You’re right,” you sniffle, making it a point to kiss him again—this time extra hard. “I won’t, I swear. But YOU,” you point a finger at his chest. “You’re not allowed to leave the house for the next…forever!”

He smiles, kissing your hand then pulling you close again to kiss the side of your neck. “I’m sure you’ll make sure of that?”

You run your hand through his hair, giggling as he sporadically places kisses wherever his lips will land. “You can count on it.”

Caleb

You shot out of your sleep, your heart racing and your body dampened with a thin sheen of sweat. Cold wet tears fall down your cheeks and you quickly wipe them away, not liking how they feel on your skin. You blink tiredly in the dark bedroom, looking over to where Caleb is supposed to be. Not only was he not there, but it was cold when you placed your palm against the bed. He’s been gone awhile.

You had another nightmare. For some reason, they’ve been plaguing you more and more lately, their origin not making sense when the events occur in your sleep state. But this one, this was the worst by far.

The imagery of Caleb dead. Shot and killed. It replayed over and over until your mind finally won the right battle, letting you wake up to see your reality. But the fact that Caleb wasn’t beside you, it made you panic.

You threw the blankets back, put your slippers on, and exited the bedroom to search for him. You wouldn’t allow that dream to make you think it was real, that he was actually gone. You refused.

He wasn’t hard to find at all though, sitting in his hobby room, putting together another aircraft set he collected. He heard the door open, turning around to see you. He smiled widely, turning fully in his office chair. You didn’t waste a moment more, walking up to him briskly. He pressed his head to your stomach, kissing it tenderly before looking up at you.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” you question softly.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he shrugs. “Didn’t wanna wake you, so I just came to mess with this.” He sees the sadness on your face, the dewdrop tears that rested on your lashes that you didn’t wipe away when he looks up.

“You’ve been crying?” he stands immediately, ready to handle whatever has his girl in distress. “What happened?”

You try to smile the sadness away, but you see it all over again. You rest your forehead on his chest, your body shaking as you silently cry. You understand that it’s okay—normal, to be emotional about something like this, but you feel like no one will ever get it unless they’ve experienced it. His death… it felt so vivid. It makes your whole body ache.

“I had a nightmare,” you weep, trying to push it out. “That you died, Caleb. It felt so real…I had to make sure. And when you weren’t in bed I…”

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, kissing your head before wrapping his arms around you. You press your hands to his back, pressing close just to make sure he’s real.

“I’d die without you, Caleb. I wouldn’t be able to survive…” You choke on your sobs. “I’d rather it be me than you, every time. You don’t understand.”

“Never,” he says sharply, but not to cut. Just to make his point abundantly clear. “Death is never an option for you, do you understand me?” He’s stern, holding your face in his hands.

“I do understand what it’s like to love someone with your whole being, so much so that you can’t differentiate what’s you and what’s them because you’re so intertwined. It’s why I will never let you put me above you. Ever. Because you are what makes me. There is nothing for me if you’re gone.”

You only cry harder, trying to wipe the scene away from your brain and embrace this moment and all the good ones that’ll follow one day.

“I don’t want you to ever speak over yourself like that again. No matter what’s troubling you, causing you pain, rather than wishing it would happen in another way that would only bring you harm, just tell me about it so I can deal with the brunt of it. I’m meant to protect you, let me do that.”

You nod, letting him ease your overwhelming emotions. “I’m sorry,” you say meekly. “Can we go to bed, please? Together?”

“You don’t even need to ask. C’mon.”

He takes your hand, not pushing for details on the dream or the particulars. He’d never imagine making you relive something so traumatizing, even if it was fake. It was real enough to actually hurt you, and that was enough for him to make sure he comforts you to the best of his abilities because you in any type of pain is something he has always vowed to keep you safe from.

[circeyoru]

Love Trial _ Part 4

[Sung Jinwoo x High School Ex-Lover!Reader]

Part 1 ― Part 2 ― Part 3 ― Part 4 (here) ― Part 5

“They’re together again.”

“I say they make a good couple.”

“Aren’t they just so cute together?”

“Wish I had a boyfriend too…”

“They’re lucky to have much other~”

You and Jinwoo were the talk of the school whenever the two of you walked together on school grounds, whether it was going to school together cause you two lived close or walking through the hallways together to head to the cafeteria for lunch. Both of you brushed off the rumours in the beginning, you two were close friends, nothing else.

Then one day, Jinwoo asked, “What are we exactly?”

“Humans.” You answered without missing a beat, even though you were reading your favourite novels instead of studying for finals.

“I don’t mean that!” Jinwoo exclaimed, but caught himself by the evident redden face from his outburst. He cleared his throat and elaborated, “I mean, our relationship. We’re close, but are we just best friends?”

“Excuse you,” You glared at him after leaning down your book, “We are childhood best friends. Mind you, my friendship is one you can’t just get off the streets, mister.”

That seemed to make Jinwoo chuckle, momentarily averting from the serious topic. You tend to do that, but humour was something he liked about you. Oh. “I think I like you.” 

“I like you too, if I didn’t we wouldn’t be friends.”

“As more than a friend, I mean.” Jinwoo shyly corrected you, “What I want to say is I love you.”

You blinked at him and squinted your eyes. “That’s so random, you’re not doing it by the steps.” You showed him your novel, “See, if you truly love someone the way I see it, you need to time the perfect moment and set the mood.”

“Oh…”

“Always.” It was your turn to clear your throat, you raised your book upright to continue reading it. “Back to studying.”

“You’re not even reading the textbook or reference books…”

“Hush! Mind your own business.” While Jinwoo did so, your mind went elsewhere. Being in love and being loved was something you wanted, but you questioned whether you were actually in love with Jinwoo in that way. Novels and films wrote love to be so clear and obvious, but in reality, it never was that easy.

Since that day, you began to subtly look at Jinwoo differently. His little quirks, his little flaws, his little joys. Everything. You knew then when your heart was always at peace with him and you longed for him by your side, that was love. Though, you didn’t know how Jinwoo saw you after that conversation. You assumed he saw you the same way since he learned from his mistake and popped you that question to move onto the next step in your relationship.

How naive.

Following your confrontation with Jinwoo, your picture of him as the stone-faced, strongest, and most impenetrable Hunter somehow changed to that of an abandoned puppy―if that made any sense. 

If someone were to ask you to name the most desperate person in your life, you’d pick this guy who snuck into your lecture hall and boldly sat next to you, even innocently writing down short sentences in a notepad before ripping the pages and passed them to you. You were a diligent student, so you were paying attention in your studies and marked down notes. Needless to say, you were using learning as an excuse to ignore Jinwoo.

To the point that one side of your arm was covered in pieces of paper from Jinwoo. Luckily, it was not your dominant side, else you would have called off Jinwoo ages ago. The messages ranged from mundane ’are you free after this lecture’ to ’can I get you a drink’. Now why weren’t you doing anything like an outburst or trying the usual tricks?

It was mostly due to the aftermath of your rooftop conversation. Yes, you did draw an obvious bolded thick line between the two of you and told him you want nothing to do with him. Yes, you did say you’re leaving things in the past and opted to enjoy your present life than wallow in anguish. However! Jinwoo took it as an opportunity to start over.

Just as you were leaving, he confidently and boldly proclaimed, “Give me some time! I’ll prove I’m serious about you. I know I have no excuse for what I did to you and I know nothing can wash away this slate. But. I want to show you I have seen the error in my ways and want to change.” His voice shook in a way that made your heart ache for it reminded you of the old days when you two were your real carefree selves with each other. “Please, give me a chance and don’t push me away.”

And guess what, you caved and gave him a chance. The only thing you never accounted for was Jinwoo approaching you at any given opportunity. He was almost around you for 27/4, wait you got that wrong, 24/7. Yes, that’s right. See how he has affected you… You can’t even get the time right because he was just always there. Respectfully keeping his distance when you had company, but there all the same.

“I brought you something to drink.” Jinwoo popped up out of nowhere when you were just sitting in the lecture hall waiting for the class to start.

“Can I sit here?” A stray Jinwoo just approached you while you were on the bench resting.

“It’s going to rain and you don’t seem to have- Oh, I thought you didn’t have an umbrella and waited for you…” Jinwoo awkwardly chuckled when you gave him the deadpanned face and opened an umbrella right before his eyes, you went first into the rain but then Jinwoo soon joined your side, “Let’s walk together to the station then.”

There were so many more that you can’t even remember it all… 

“He’s at it again…” Jong-In chuckled as he sat next to you, “When are you going to announce our break-up? I feel like I’m third wheeling when he’s around.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, sighing in frustration and annoyance. “We can ‘break up’ only if it’s what you want. Not for that insufferable guy…”

“I never seen you this mad and indifferent to someone… What exactly did he do to you?” Jong-In questioned half-heartedly, knowing you wouldn’t enlighten him with your answer or story. He added when you had that look in your eyes, “Hey, we’ve been together―as friends―for a long time and I know how your moods are. Whatever he’s done wrong to you, I think you’re trying to forgive him too.” He chuckled as he commented, “Well, more like you’re putting him through trials of love. You know, to prove himself?”

“...”

“You don’t want to be hurt again, don’t you?”

You weakly nodded―mentally at least. All of this was so exhausting to you. If only Jinwoo had went for Cha Hae-In like he did in his past life… Then everything would been perfect and you could move on with time. 

You glanced over to the door, particularly the glass that gave you a peek of the outside, Jinwoo’s arm was there in view. Even after you told him you didn’t want to see him. You heard Jong-In’s remark, “At least our professor banned him from the lecture hall, no disturbance for the prized student and you get some time and space away from him.”

You turned back to your lecture notes, a tiny―very tiny―upward curl at the corner of your lips. “Stupid dummy…”

Note: The last part will be uploaded tomorrow on Valentine's Day~ My treat to you since this one is quite short~ Spoiler, there's a bit of angst, but it's a fluff end. No worries. Not breaking any hearts.

𝕮𝖎𝖗𝖈𝖊 𝖄.

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[anxi04]

Tim meeting Lex at a gala when he’s young. and becoming gossip besties with him

i finally wrote it after it infesting my brain enjoy

——————-

Tim thought the gala was going to be like most of the others, boring, annoying, nothing happening. And then he saw Lex Luthor. And he's a smart man, probably the only other smart person in here so why not start a conversation?

Lex thought this gala was going to be boring and a waste of time. And then this small child comes up to him talking about gossip that he didn't even know? And mentioning his incredibly secret cloning project he just started a week ago? He's going to be a villain and Lex wants to be on his good side.

————————

Tim sighed, annoyed. Gala's have always been incredibly boring, the only slightly fun things that happen at them have been either Bruce Wayne "tripping" over something and drenching someone else with whatever drink or liquid is near, or overhearing gossip, such as Robert Dewitt cheating on his wife with his brother. That was a fun day.

This gala is looking to be about the same as always, just even more boring. Bruce Wayne isn't attending (understandable, The Joker just broke out of Arkham again. He's sure there's a cover story for why Bruce isn't here but he doesn't care about that), no one is drawing attention to any scandals yet, or at least not in his ear range.

The only vaguely interesting thing here is Lex Luthor actually attending it for once. The man usually never spares a moment for anything aside from Metropolis (disgusting) and Superman. So there's at least one other smart person here but he also happens to be a super-villain (not that the general public knows) so… Not like Tim can just walk up to him and talk right?

"So as I was saying it really is quite unfortunate that your son won't take the company, I always thought he was a rather charming young man-" Fuck it Tim's gonna go talk to the super-villain.

"Have you heard about Rebecca Strawling?" Tim asks Lex, who absolutely did NOT jump at this child sneaking up behind him (seriously how did he do that? Even Superman, a man who constantly floats, can't sneak up on him.). Lex blinks for a second because, yes he had and holy shit what a thing that is, and also how does this child know? Also why is this child talking to him?

"That… Depends. What have you heard?" Lex says hesitantly. Despite Rebecca's… everything, she still hid it incredibly well. If Lex wasn't so bored at these gala's he would never have known, so either this child is just incredibly nosy, or possibly an actual smart person in this room. Either option would prove far more interesting than what he had been doing.

"Well I've heard about the several affairs she's had with everyone she claims to hate. Business rivals, the poor, queer people, her husband's family, and if it's to be believed her own family." And… Holy fuck, Lex had not been aware of that last bit. He raises an eyebrow at the ending which prompts a slight grin from the child as he takes his phone out. "I have evidence."

Does Lex actually… Enjoy being near a kid barely in the double digits? Absurd.

"You know Tim, that man over there? He's almost bankrupting his company and family by sending their money to a 'client.' I believe all his business partners are looking for someone to replace his spot." It's been an hour and a half. This is the most entertained Lex has been at one of these in decades. If Tim finds himself following the black hair, blue eyes orphan trend Lex will take him in himself so help him God. He's insanely smart, not only is he excellent at reading people and finding dirt on them easily, he's incredibly skilled at hacking without any proper training on it. This is a villain in the making and Lex will not let himself fall on his bad side.

"Now, I have a moral question for you Tim. What do you think the ethics on making a weapon out of a clone would be?" He's been toying with the idea of cloning Superman lately, however the actual… Making it a weapon has been bothering him. If it comes out an adult man it could easily decide it wants to do something else and rebel, however what would the effects be on making a child weapon that was created for that sole purpose? The effectiveness of it?

"Easy. Don't make the clone a weapon. It's either an adult clone who could choose to be a soldier, and actually listen to you, or decide it won't listen and possibly end up exposing you. If it's a child clone then sure you get a weapon for a few years but not having a choice would end up making them resent you. Give them a choice on it, just like the Sidekicks, like Robin, Kid Flash, Speedy, all them. I'd assume you would want a meta clone anyway and most meta's feel a sense of duty with their abilities so it'd be likely for them to decide something along what you want. Just a matter on if they like you and go with you, or turn to the other side." Tim answers without missing a beat and wow what a concerning sentence that would be to hear from a child if he were anyone else. As it is he's delighted by the response.

"Although cloning a Kryptonian would probably alter it, simply wouldn't get enough material so you would likely have to substitute some of the material for human and at that point use your own and raise the clone as a child." What. That's far too specific. "Oh, sorry I probably should've kept it more broad. Anyway you should update your security systems." Definitely a super-villain in the making. One that he very much wants to be on the good side of. On that note now he needs to update his whole system.

"Ah, Tim I'm glad you picked up. I'm a father now! I'd like you to meet my son, his name is Kon-El-"

"Oh, I've already met him. You actually interrupted our call. Kinda late on telling me." Of course.

"You know I could adopt you as well, get you from that bumbling buffoon that is Wayne."

"Yeah but then my crush would become incestuous." His what? Know what he can work with this. Tim is joining his family one way or another.

Finally. A moment of peace for Lex to sit down, drink some coffee, and watch a rerun of his favorite show. "Luthor!" Oh great, the boy scout here to ruin his plans. Oh and is that his group for comic-con? There's the man of steel himself, Wonder Woman, Batman and… Wait. Oh this will piss Kal-El off to be ignored.

"Timothy! I was just about to call you. You remember Robert Dewitt, correct? You'll never guess what he's done now." Lex grins, standing up. He was meaning to update Tim on this particular… Creature. He's one of their favorites to catch up on, purely because of the absurdity of his debauchery. Although this time does have a reason, after all there's reason for dear old Robert to get locked up this time and he's been making some comments about Lex lately and well he can't just let that slide now can he?

Tim blinks for a second then realizes what Lex just said. "Wait you know? Of course you do why wouldn't you.. Actually wait that doesn't matter what the fuck did Robert do? Last I knew he wasn't allowed outside without an escort so I was expecting longer." Lex has a feeling it does in fact matter very much if the way Batman's eyes narrow and his jaw clench indicate anything. Lex needs to continue on or possibly get put in a hospital.

"Oh he's no longer allowed near animal shelters, so-" Kal-El cuts him off, incredibly rudely if he might add.

"What… What is going on here?" Poor man sounds so confused. Lex is savoring this moment.

"Well I know Timothy Drake is Red Robin. Clearly. Red Robin is the hero closest to becoming a villain which fits Tim quite well, and also Tim is the only Gothamite smart enough to be Red Robin. And infuriating enough to personally annoy Ra's al-Ghul on a regular." It's very simple honestly. Lex has no idea what's making this so complicated. "If it helps make you all feel 'safe' and 'secure' I could tell you about the time Timothy told me he had a crush on Kon-" And now Tim's thrown something at him. What is this, interrupt Lex day?

"Shut up! What if I told them about you and Clark Kent?" Ahh, expose his crush, get his own crush exposed. Well unfortunately Lex has no shame about that.

"You mean the man who could lift a 200 lb person with no effort? One of the very few good reporters?" Odd that Kal-El's face is getting red and confused but oh well. "Honestly though, who cares. You know Tim my offer for adopting you still stands. I know it must be absurdly easy to hide being Red Robin from your… family. However I think I could be of more assistance still." Batman's hands are clenching now. Interesting. "I mean you made a fake uncle to get out of being adopted by the oaf, I don't know why you didn't just let me." Ah, Batman's hands are unclenched. He must have thought that uncle was also real. Surprising, really, from 'The World's Greatest Detective' however they clearly have the wrong bat. "And does he even know about your missing spleen? Really, I should get him locked up for child neglect. Even I would notice if anything happened to Kon-El."

Tim's eyes widen at that and snap to Batman's equally wide eyes. They both jump into a sprint, Tim leaping out of a window with the Bat close behind. "Oh, did he not know? Oops."

Perfect. Hopefully that'll have been absurd enough that the Justice League leave him alone, and he can watch his show in peace.

[certaimromance]

ꫂ ၴႅၴ Tall Child I.

Father figure!Hotch x BAU!reader

part two | series mastelist | main masterlist

Summary: No matter how hard you try to impress him, Agent Hotchner never seems to be satisfied with your work. And it all comes crashing down when you decide to confront him.

Words: 2,7k.

Warnings & Tags: fem!reader. mentions of crime. reader was injured (nothing serious). angst WITHOUT happy ending. hotch being a father figure. soo much angst (yes, again). father and rebellious daughter type discussion. temporarily located in the first season. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: This was painful to write, so I loved it (I literally wrote it with I Bet On Losing Dogs by Mitski in the background).

Anyone who knows you knows that your lifelong dream was to help make the world a better place.

And from your day one at the BAU, you felt like your wildest dreams had come true. You were saving lives, reassuring victims, and helping to bring to justice those who tormented them so they could never do it to anyone else again. You were making a real difference in the world, even if you weren't the caped superhero you wanted to be as a kid.

But, as they say, nothing's perfect. And your job had more contradictions for your mental and physical health than there were fingers on your hands to count. The long and unstable schedule, the few hours of sleep, nightmares about the atrocities you saw, no social life outside the team...and of course, the constant disappointment you felt from Aaron Hotchner, your boss.

From day one, you had worked tirelessly to prove yourself. You craved the approval of your superiors, the respect of your colleagues. The job was demanding, yes, but you wanted to show that you could not only handle it but thrive under the pressure. And you had earned the trust and admiration of everyone around you, except for him.

Agent Hotchner was an enigma to you. There was something about him that both intrigued and intimidated you. He was always so calm, without showing much emotion, without so much as a smile for you. He was a wall you couldn't break through no matter how hard you tried. You had tried so hard to impress him, to make sure he saw your dedication, your work ethic, but you always seemed to fall short. His approval, or lack thereof, hurt more than anything else. You had gotten used to it by now, but it didn't make it any easier.

And now, here you were, in his office, watching him scrutinize your medical diagnosis. He had just glanced at the report from the doctor that had followed you back from the Utah case. Your shoulder, a minor injury, but one that could’ve been avoided if you hadn’t thrown yourself headfirst into the danger in the way you did.

Finally, after several moments of awkward silence, you dared to speak. “What do you think? I am practically at my best.”

Deep down, you knew you were lying through your teeth and that you were not well with an injured shoulder, a concussion, and several bruises, but you refused to say so out loud. You were a brave girl, and he should know.

Hotch looked up from the report in his hand and stared at you. It was the kind of look that made your hair stand on end and gave you a feeling that something was wrong.

“No, you're not.” He sighs and closes the folder before walking over to the desk you were sitting behind. He leans against it as he looks at you, arms folded across his chest. “You disobeyed a direct order during the case. You abandoned your partner.”

“I didn’t abandon Reid,” you replied, your voice sounding more defensive than you intended. You straightened in your chair, wincing slightly as your shoulder protested the movement. “I simply suggested he wait behind me. And it worked, didn’t it? He saved the victim, and I stopped the unsub.”

Teamwork, as you liked to call it.

“It paid off this time,” he said, his voice low but firm. “But that doesn’t excuse disregarding protocol. You put yourself and your partner in unnecessary danger. That’s not the kind of decision-making we can afford here.”

Oh no, here comes the usual chatter you didn't want to hear this time. Normally, you would be quiet, listening and nodding at his every word, but this time there was something different. You just longed for congratulations. Was it really so difficult for him to tell you once that you did something right?

You stiffened in your chair, the ache in your shoulder suddenly more pronounced. “With all due respect, I evaluated the situation and made a hard decision. I’m not some rookie who doesn’t know how to handle themselves in the field.”

Even as the words came out, you felt very nervous. You didn't know if it was the drugs they gave you in the hospital to fight the pain or if it was just your shyness leaving your body completely for no reason.

“I’m not questioning your skills,” he replied sharply. “But you’re not operating at one hundred percent, and that affects your judgment. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard for months—longer, maybe. And now you’re injured. You need time to recover and think about this.”

God, no.

“I don’t need time; I need to work,” you shot back, frustration lacing your tone. This job was your lifeline, your purpose. Without it, who were you?

“You know we work as a team. A unit. And when one part of the unit breaks down, there are consequences.” His voice wasn’t just firm; it was unyielding, like a warning. The way he said it almost felt like he was speaking to a child—a reprimand you didn’t want but knew you had earned. “No one is above the team, not even you.”

You didn't know if it was the way he said it or the words he used, but it was like the straw that broke the camel's back, and you were tired of putting up with the situation. This was the first time you had made a decision on your own, the first time you had not discussed your ideas with the team only to have them ignored and then spoken louder by someone else. Finally, you had acted, and even that was wrong.

You were tired, fucking tired of being ignored and judged much more harshly than the rest.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, barely audible but heavy with frustration. The ache in your shoulder seemed to flare as if your body was responding to the tension in the room. “And what consequences are you thinking of, sir?” you asked, your voice dripping with sarcasm. There was no hiding the venom now. “What’s worse than not being valued even when I do my job?”

His gaze turned hard as if your tone had cut him deeper than any physical injury could. He didn’t take kindly to disrespect, especially from someone who had otherwise followed his orders without question. You saw the shift in him, the quiet fury simmering beneath his usually controlled exterior. If you were anyone else, the conversation would have already escalated. But you weren’t anyone else. You were someone he knew far too well.

“Don’t use that tone with me,” he bit back, his voice low and steady but carrying a weight that made your stomach twist. There was no mistake now—this wasn’t just about the case. This was more personal. “You are suspended. Your gun and badge on the table. Now.”

Oh, oh, oh.

The words hung in the air between you like a guillotine, sudden and final. The room seemed to close in on you, the breath in your chest catching in surprise. You didn’t know if it was the shock or the disbelief, but your mind struggled to grasp the magnitude of his command. Suspended? Your world was spinning.

You opened your mouth to speak, to argue, but the words caught in your throat, leaving you with nothing but a hollow sound of confusion. “What? Why?”

“Agent, you disobeyed a direct order and endangered yourself and your partner,” he said firmly. “I don’t take your actions lightly. Suspension is not a punishment—it’s a consequence. You need time to heal, both physically and mentally.”

The idea of being sidelined was incomprehensible. The thought of doing nothing—being stuck in your apartment, forced to be still—felt suffocating. No. You couldn’t accept it.

“This is ridiculous. I did my job! I stopped the unsub! Reid saved the victim because I made the right choice!”

You saved a life, even if it meant risking a little of your own. You did save it.

“And what happens next time?” Hotch shot back, his voice rising slightly. “What happens if your judgment falters again because you’re running on empty? What if next time, it’s Reid who doesn’t come back?”

Then, silence.

The thought of Spencer getting hurt turned your stomach and made you question your actions. If anything happened to him, you would never forgive yourself…His life did matter, a lot.

“Gun. Badge. Now.” Your boss talks again. He gestured toward the desk.

Your fingers trembled, betraying you as you reached for the gun on your hip. The cool metal felt foreign in your hands, like something that had never truly belonged to you. Your mind screamed for you to stop, to stand your ground, to fight this. But your body, exhausted and broken, refused to cooperate.

You opened your mouth to speak, but your voice cracked before you could get the words out. “I…I didn’t mean…I just…”

Finally, with a shaky breath, you placed your gun on the desk. The thud it made as it landed felt like the sound of everything you had worked for being shattered in front of you. You could feel the sting of unshed tears burning in your eyes, but you wouldn’t let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him.

It didn’t matter what you said. It never seemed to matter, not with him. You had tried so hard to be the one who did everything right, to be the one he could rely on, and yet all you had earned was this—this cold, final judgment. He wasn’t just your boss in that moment; he was the embodiment of everything you had tried to prove yourself against. A reminder that, no matter what you did, it still wasn’t enough.

The words spilled from your mouth before you could stop them, the bitter taste of them already familiar. “You think I’m weak, don’t you?” The tone you had intended to be defiant came out more like a desperate plea. “You think I can’t handle this, that I’m just some liability?”

He didn’t flinch at your outburst. His gaze softened, but just barely. “No,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle but firm. “I think you’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re not weak. But you’re hurting, and I can see it. You need time to recover.”

The words hit you like a slap, unexpected and unwelcome. You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips as you tried to fight back the burning in your chest. You refused to let the tears well up, to let them gather where he could see them. Not here. Not now. Please, not now.

“I don’t need time,” you said, your voice sharp, biting. But underneath the defiance was something raw and desperate, a quiet plea that you couldn’t fully suppress. “I need to be here. I need to do my job. I need to save lives.”

The last part came out as a whisper, as though saying it too loudly would shatter the fragile conviction you had left. You felt like you were slipping, like the ground beneath you was crumbling, and all you could do was cling to this one thing—the job. The only thing that made you feel like you mattered.

“The only life you need to save now is yours,” he said, his voice quieter but still heavy with authority.

You froze, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a crushing tide. Your stomach churned, and you fought to keep your composure, to keep from lashing out, even though every part of you wanted to scream. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t.

A bitter, trembling laugh bubbled up from your throat, unbidden and full of venom. “If it had been Reid or Morgan, you wouldn’t be doing this,” you snapped, the accusation like a raw wound exposed to the open air.

For the first time, something flickered in his eyes—anger, hurt, or something you couldn’t quite place. His jaw tightened, his posture stiffening, and when he spoke, his voice was sharper than before, each word deliberate and cutting.

“No,” he said, the firmness in his tone slicing through the room like a blade. “Because they would never have done this.”

The silence that followed was deafening. It slammed into you like a tidal wave, drowning out every other sound. His words rang in your ears, echoing in the hollow space left behind by your crumbling defenses.

They would never have done this.

Your chest tightened, a deep ache settling in your ribs, and for a moment, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. The accusation hung in the air, heavy and unforgiving. He wasn’t just saying you’d made a mistake—he was saying you were the mistake. That you weren’t good enough. That you never would be.

“Is this because I’m a woman?” you asked, the words coming out sharper than you intended. There was a bitter edge to them, a question that had been gnawing at you for far too long. “Because Elle is too, and even she has more, or is it because of my age? Reid is younger, and you never doubt him.”

“It’s not about any of that,” he said finally, his voice low and tight. But it wasn’t reassuring. It only sounded like an evasion, like he was brushing your concerns aside, and it made your chest ache all over again. “It’s not about your gender or your age.”

“It’s about me,” you said, the words like glass shards scraping at your insides. “It’s about how you don’t trust me.”

For the first time, you saw a flicker of something in his eyes—something almost like guilt, but it was fleeting, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. He opened his mouth, but the words he spoke next were measured, controlled. Too controlled.

“No,” he said, his voice so steady it almost hurt. “That’s not it.”

You stared at him, heart racing, hands trembling, as the truth wrapped around you tighter than you ever thought possible. His words weren’t just dismissing your feelings—they were rejecting everything you had ever believed about your worth, about why you were here, in this moment, fighting so desperately for something you couldn’t even name.

But this time, it was different. You weren’t going to back down. Not anymore.

“Then what is it?” You whispered, voice breaking, tears finally threatening to spill. “What is it, Hotch? What is it about me that isn’t enough?”

“It’s not about you,” he said, but his voice lacked the certainty it usually held. “It’s not about trusting you…It’s about protecting you.” His gaze softened just enough for you to notice, but it only made the pain worse. “I can’t lose…I can’t let you lose yourself.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You were trembling, your pulse racing in your ears, but now there was only a terrible stillness. You swallowed, trying to push down the bitterness that rose up in your throat.

“You don’t get to make decisions for me,” you snapped, barely holding back the frustration that bubbled to the surface. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me. You don’t get to act like you’re my father, making me follow some imaginary line, keeping me under your control. If you want to raise someone, you already have a baby at home.”

The moment the words left your lips, you saw it—just the faintest flicker of hurt in his eyes. The barest flinch. But it was enough to make you feel the weight of your accusation like a stone, sinking into your chest. The silence that followed was thick with it, suffocating, and you could feel the air growing heavier between you.

“I’m not your dad,” he said, the words low, the icy calm of his voice unmistakable. There was no anger in it, just a hollow, painful truth. But the sting of it was sharp enough to leave a mark.

You blinked, the sharpness of his response cutting through you like a blade. You wanted to fight back, to lash out with everything you had, but something stopped you. Instead, your voice came out quieter, almost hollow as you whispered, “I know…Do you know that?”

And then, just like that, you turned away, your breath ragged in your chest. You didn’t wait for his answer, didn’t wait for anything. You couldn’t stand the ache that had taken root in your chest, the fear that had begun to take shape in the corners of your mind.

And the door slammed behind you.

[mirohlayo]

Hi, can I request a Reader x F1 grid story where reader breaks her arm/leg and she can't race because of it, but she still attends the races to watch with her team? And then the drivers start to draw on her cast as a feel better soon gesture.

Maybe she also posts it on her social media throughout the day to show fans the progress of the drawings.

Thank you so much xxx

P.S. Love you writing

Hi !! So as you requested I used the F1 grid, but only the drivers who I write for originally (+ Albon). I also wrote reader as a F1 Academy driver to make it more easy to write and more realistic. It's the first time I write something like this, so hope you'll enjoy it girll !! ᥫ᭡

DRAWINGS ON MY BROKEN ARM

( because maybe you just need some love from your handsome friends. )

warning : none just a broken arm, a cast and fluff

note : I really struggled a lot to find some good cast pictures, these ones are a bit awful lmaoo sorry

word count : 1.3k

It was not planned. This was absolutely not what was planned.

As you get out of the car with difficulty, greeting pleasantly the driver who kindly accompanied you to the Suzuka circuit, you try as best you can not to move your arm too much. If you make unnecessary efforts you will tire yourself out for nothing.

You absolutely did not choose to break your arm. It was due to a mistake, a very big mistake indeed. While you were testing your car during free practice, during a session where the falling rain flooded the track with water, your tires did not grip effectively and you found yourself thrown against the wall, in a fairly serious crash. surprising.

The teams immediately helped you, and while everyone was asking you if you were okay after this crash, that's when you realized a big problem: yes, you were okay, but not your arm. . And after a short stay in the hospital, you now find yourself - or rather your arm - stuck in an amazing cast.

You obviously cannot participate in the next F1 Academy races. But you can, however, do something else that is much more energetic and beneficial for you in the state you are in: attend the F1 race which is currently taking place in Japan.

After all, being locked up for almost a week in your apartment was totally boring and you really need a little fresh air, and above all the passion for this sport to stimulate. Being a very close friend of certain drivers, you did not hesitate for a single second to accept your team's proposal when they offered to accompany you to the Suzuka GP.

Now there you are in the paddock, trying to slip through the others to get to the Mercedes garage. There where you find Georges, who smiles with all his teeth at the sight of you.

“Hello you” He walks over to you and starts to wrap his arms around you in order to give you a hug, but a reflex immediately makes him step back. “Oh sorry, I forgot you have a... little problem” He struggles to finish his sentence, grimacing at the sight of your wrapped arm in a cast.

You giggle before patting his shoulder. "Are you better since your crash? I saw that a few days ago and I was really scared for you." His eyes scan you, he is worried about you. You smile softly at him to reassure him. "Don't worry. I may have a broken arm but that won't stop me from supporting you in this race."

“Oh, Y/n!” Lewis' voice calls out to you, and you turn to face him, Charles next to him. They both smile at you, taking care not to touch your arm so as not to hurt you further. "I'm so sorry about your crash. You must definitely be disappointed." Lewis affectionately caresses your shoulder, a show of affection and support.

"At least you're alive, that's the main thing. It's good to see you here, the other guys miss you you know." Charles explains the situation, telling you how worried and scared the pilots were following your accident. You also received several messages from them on instagram, in which they supported you and showered you with kind words.

“Y/NNN!!” Daniel screams your name from afar, a big smile on his face as he almost throws himself at you. “Hey watch out for his arm.” Lewis alerts Daniel so he doesn't hurt you, but he doesn't seem to hear anything and comes to take you in his arms. “Daniel, I’ll go back to the hospital if you continue.” He finally pulls away, carefully observing your cast.

“Maybe I should call the others, they’ll be happy to see you.” Charles volunteers to bring the other drivers back, while you chat with your friends. They are all very respectful and very attentive, they are sincerely empathetic towards you.

In the distance, you finally see the rest of the boys arriving.

“Here’s my girl.” Lando comes to wrap his arm around your shoulders, a smirk present on his lips. You push him away, grimacing to tease him, and he holds his heart as if you had just broken it into a thousand pieces. "I know I shouldn't have sent you that 'get well soon' with a red heart on Instagram, hypocrite." He pretends to roll his eyes but his smile betrays him.

"Indeed, you shouldn't have. Your teammate was the first to message me and that's why he's my favorite boy today." Oscar tssk while crossing his arms, however amused by the situation. Max, Carlos and Alex are discreetly added to the group that has just formed around you.

“Even with a broken arm, you can do a lot of things you know.” Max told you in a confident manner. “Like Lance last year.” Carlos chuckled at Lando, both nodding at the same time because they thought the same thing. You can't help but feel alive again.

It's true that the last few days were difficult. Alone, injured and locked in your apartment, you no longer had much of a taste for life. You kept asking yourself questions about your future, about the rest of the races of the year. You were also worried. But you knew that coming here, being surrounded by your closest friends again, laughing and talking with them, was all you needed. You can only be grateful to them.

“I have an idea guys!” Alex then exclaims, drawing attention to himself. “Since Y/n is injured, and her cast is… white and bland, we should draw to give her courage.” He said while pointing at your cast. The other drivers nod, agreeing with the Williams driver's idea.

“I will have the honor of drawing first!” Then begins George, who is already ready to fight to have his drawing on your cast. "She wants a drawing of her favorite driver which is me. Too bad for you, George." Lando, and his sassy attitude, is ahead of the Mercedes driver. “I bet I draw better than all of you so let me do it.” Carlos steps forward to assert himself.

They seem to be on the verge of fighting over who will have the honor of drawing best, or who will draw first. You laugh while calming the situation. "Look, you're all going to be able to draw. We just need some markers." You remark, as you wave to your team in the distance to help you.

It doesn't take long before they arrive with a small pencil case filled with different colored markers. You then sit on a chair in a corner of the garage, the nine drivers around you. Oscar is the first to draw on your cast, while the others are still fighting over who will go second.

In the end, after a good session of laughter and slightly failed drawings, the result is there. Your plaster is decorated with designs, each one as extravagant as the last, but that doesn't matter, because their intention comes from the heart. This sincere gesture will certainly give you courage for the rest of your adventure, you are sure of it.

And as they all give you one last smile, one last hug, they leave to prepare for the approaching race. You end up joining your team further in the VIP stands, ready for the start of the race. “What a beautiful cast” Your engineer nods at the magnificent designs on your arm, and you smile. “Beautiful may not be the word, but it’s very precious to me for sure.”

And as you share a laugh, the red lights go out, as the din of cars echoes throughout the circuit. For a moment, everything seems wonderful. It's crazy how a simple little attention like drawings can brighten up your day a little more. And can also brighten up the day of others, like those of your fans for example...

yourusername just posted !

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and others...

yourusername: maybe no more arm but at least I have my handsome boyys ❤️

view comments

danielricciardo: if anyone wonders who drew the beautiful star, it’s me ✌️😁

⤷ landonorris: you wrote on her arm instead of her cast you dickhead

⤷ danielricciardo: I was feeling different 😜

user: Alex just writing his name makes absolutely sense

user: no cuz they're literally the SWEETEST ahww

⤷ yourusername: only oscar cuz he's the one who drew the best

⤷ danielricciardo: but you said it was me earlier

⤷ yourusername: i lied plus you literally drew on my SKIN instead of my cast 😠

landonorris: my girl not giving any credits to my amazing beautiful drawing 💔

⤷ yourusername: yeah cuz you have no talent, keep it up it's awful mate 🔥🔥

⤷ landonorris: hypocrite I hate you

charles_leclerc: take care of yourself y/n ❤️

georgerussell63: I slayed, my drawing is lit

⤷ yourusername: no 🙄🥱

user: i need friends as precious as them, love their friendship !!

[vintagegeekculture]

I remember a friend of mine had some LPs that were Star Wars themed disco albums, and it brought back a very weird memory from back in the 70s (yes, I'm old!) of listening to a Star Wars disco mashup on the radio. What was all that about? I also remember something like that for Close Encounters, too.

You remember correctly, and this went on for a long while. In 1983, disk jockeys around the country played a record that involved an Ewok rapping the plot of Return of the Jedi in Ewokese. This made it to #60 in the Billboard Top 100.

This is hard to explain to people who weren’t there….but in the wake of Star Wars in the late 70s and early 80s, scifi was so beloved and mainstream that the orchestral music for nerdy scifi and fantasy movies about outer space were remixed and sampled into Giorgio Moroder-esque Italo-Disco dance numbers. And the most astonishing thing is, instead of being consigned to convention acts the way “horse famous” Brony dubstep acts are, this received national airplay on the radio, reached the pop music charts, and were played in discotheques. And incredibly, this continued for years and expanded from Star Wars into Star Trek, Wizard of Oz, Black Hole, Close Encounters….

All of this was the work of one specific person: Meco (or Dominico Monardo). The term “ahead of their time” is thrown around a lot, but Meco really was: a combination producer-songwriter and Italo-Disco pioneer in the style of Giorgio Moroder, he did several things that are now absolutely standard: he used remixes and sampling before hiphop made that standard for musicians, he wrote “fandom music” on a Moog synthesizer decades before Bronies turned their conventions into cringey dubstep concerts with songs like “Everypony Dance Now.”

It's stunning to me that Meco has not been rediscovered, considering every single trend in the culture essentially went his way.

The most startling thing about Meco’s Star Wars disco album, the one that got the ball rolling on this trend, is this: I always assumed it was some kind of cash in created by a record label mandate, a label executive’s completely cynical choice to hop on a hot new trend. That isn’t a crazy thing to think at all, since Star Wars is and always has been the most merchandized and sold out scifi property ever. But it wasn’t! You see, it was all the product of a single man’s specific vision: Meco had to convince his record label to make the record because they were skeptical.

When Meco went to see Star Wars in 1977 on Opening Day (what an experience that must have been) with his friend and fellow Italian chest hair/gold medallion enthusiast Tony Bongiovi, he was already an experienced producer-songwriter who had worked with Gloria Gaynor, Diana Ross, and formed DCA, the Disco Corporation of America. If you've ever listened to Diana Ross's "I'm Coming Out," Meco actually played the trombone solo in that song. Seeing the Star Wars movie for the first time, though Meco thought the movie was nothing short of a religious experience. Originally, he wanted to do Star Wars music as a b-side on a Gloria Gaynor album, but expanded the idea into an entire album.

In Meco’s own words:

"When I think about what I did, nobody came to me, nobody said 'Meco, why don't you do this.' Nobody says 'Here's some money go make a record of this movie.' It was just my own... It was magical, it was just out of this world when all that happened."

Not only did this album hit platinum, not only did it actually outsell the Star Wars soundtrack, his remix of the Star Wars theme also went to #1 in the charts. It’s actually the best selling instrumental single of all time. A record, that, incidentally, it holds to this day.

Dick Clark, host of American Bandstand, had this to say about Meco:

"In 1977, Meco Monardo accomplished something no one else has ever done to the best of my knowledge. He was the first one in history to out-sell the soundtrack of a motion picture with his own distinctive version of a film's music. The music was totally danceable, and broke new ground. It's no wonder the STAR WARS THEME went to # 1. I loved his treatment of music from THE WIZARD OF OZ. Again, Meco created something innovative. The fun and the excitement gave a whole new feel to that totally familiar and well-loved music."

Like a lot of studio producers, Meco had an insane work ethic and hit when the iron was hot: he did an album about Close Encounters that exact same year, but also did a Star Wars Christmas Album, one of the strangest pieces of Star Wars kitsch around.

One of the most interesting things about the Star Wars Christmas album is that one of the songs, “R2D2’s Wish You a Merry Christmas” is the first professional vocals by John Bon Jovi, who was Meco’s friend Tony Bongiovi’s seventeen year old younger cousin (he was initially known as John Bongiovi). It's incredible to hear a squeaky voiced teen Bon Jovi on a kitsch album about a robot Christmas.

1978-1979 was really his best year. Meco made an Italo-Disco remix album entirely devoted to Superman, and at this point, Meco had the pull to get access to John Williams's sheet music for the score before the music even came out. In my personal opinion it's the best of them because he has to recreate it entirely with his own instruments, leading to a very unique sound.

He also did an album based on the Wizard of Oz:

And a combination album of Star Trek/Black Hole. It's probably the earliest remixing date of Goldsmith pieces of music: the Motion Picture Theme (which is now associated with the Next Generation - hearing it done in Italodisco is uncanny) and the Klingon Theme:

Incidentally, I think the design here of the Meco Enterprise, which had to be modified for legal reasons, would make a wonderful canon starship if anyone wants to be inspired by it. It reminds me of the same concept that would be used in the very next film for the Reliant-class of ships.

Meco eventually retired from music in 1985, but unfortunately he is no longer with us, as he passed into the next dimension in 2023. I think he showed us that creativity is often about transformation, and was inspired to make his art by a legitimate awe of space, the cosmos, and human imagination that the scifi movies of the 1970s and 80s provoke.