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talaok · 8 months

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The Pause

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader

Summary: You and your colleague Javier Peña have never gotten along, but with just a simple proposition that started off as a joke, it turns out you do work well together in some areas.

Warnings: smut| fingering, oral sex (f receiving), squirting, protected p in v sex (ik me writing that they use a condom? Incredible), praising, size-kink, and reader is not shaved (bc lets be honest now yo girl is so over that)

A roll of the eyes and a loud enough huff... the usual warm greeting reserved for your colleague.

"Good morning to you too" he mocked, raising his head as you sat at the desk in front of him.

"had a rough night?" he continued, wanting nothing more than to see that look on your face when he poked you just enough.

"Well I had a great one" he informed you like you cared, as he lit a cigarette.

"I'm sure you did" you finally spoke "Which one was it tonight? My money’s on Vanessa, you have a sweet spot for her"

He let out a small chuckle, knowing he had gotten exactly what he wanted.

He would have never admitted it out loud, but he loved your daily banter, and even more, he loved your smart mouth.

"Is that Jealousy I hear?"

Now was your turn to laugh "You wish, Peña" you smirked, "the day I'll start being jealous of you and your special friends I'll have officially gone insane"

His eyes slowly analyzed your face, making you feel more uncomfortable than you liked to admit

" I think it wouldn't hurt you, you know?"

"what?" you sighed, organizing some files somebody had left on your desk during the night.

"a good fuck"

Your eyes shot up to his, a mix of disappointment and annoyance firing out of them.

"Unlike you, I'm not really into paying for it" you tilted your head, watching his hazel eyes closely "and not that it's any of your business, but I'm fine in that department"

"How long has it been?" he asked, like he knew, like he knew he was annoyingly right.

It had been a dry month, hell, a dry year.

"why, are you offering?" you raised an eyebrow, not backing off.

"why... are you refusing?" he mirrored your expression, a smug grin tugging at his lips.

Your breathing slowed, and time stopped for an infinite instant, all the office's noises blurred in the background as wrong, wrong images filled your brain.

like the one where that same mouth draped around that cigarette crashed with your own... or the one where his big, strong hand wrapped around your neck as his breath fanned against your lips, or the one where...

"good morning"

A whimper left your mouth, and as quickly as you tried turning away from Javier, you didn't miss the smug smile growing on his lips, or the way his eyes searched every inch of your face.

Fuck

"Hi Steve" you cleared your throat, praying to whoever was listening that the crimson painting your cheeks would be blamed on the heat.

The blonde nodded at you with a genuine smile as you willed your breathing to even out.

"Messina said two of us gotta go check out something"

"something?" Peña asked

"Yeah apparently there's a guy that might be able to give us some information" Steve shrugged

He said two, didn't he?

The look on Javier's face certainly cleared out any doubts you might have had.

Oh no. no way in hell I'm spending the whole day with him after what happened not even a minute ago.

"I'll stay behind" you blurted out, earning a frown from Steve and an amused grin from Peña.

You weren't fooling him

You were never one to back down on these things. You wanted to go on the field as much as possible, and they both knew that.

"I just-" you muttered, trying to come up with a believable excuse "I have some things I need to finish up here anyway"

If Steve wasn't convinced, he didn't show it, but Javier on the other hand... Javier was looking at you like he could read every single thought crossing your mind.

"alright" Murphy sighed "Let's go then, Peña," he said, giving you a farewell nod before starting down the elevator

Javier lingered for a moment longer, bending much closer than he needed to as he put out his cigarette in the ashtray between your desks.

"Goodbye y/n" he spoke lowly "I'll be back"

and to anyone that would have sounded like a normal thing to say, but to you... to you, it sounded only like a threat.

__ __ __

Turns out you didn't need to lie, turns out that there actually was a lot of shit to do at the office.

The hotline had been buzzing all day, and being that you were the only dea agent available, most calls had to go through you, plus all the reports to go over and the forms to fill... you didn't even realize how much time had passed before Messina startled you as she walked out of her office.

"Goodnight agent" she called, making you glance up from your desk for the first time in the past two hours.

"goodnight" you called absentmindedly, as you took in the office... it was deserted, not one single soul at their desk.

What time is it?

You glanced at the clock hanging on the wall to your right

9:30 pm

9:30 pm?

When the fuck did that happen?

the elevator dinged in the distance as your boss stepped into it.

You must be seeing things, because there's no way in hell... nope, the clock was still telling the same exact time.

"fuck" you exhaled into the empty room, running a hand down the length of your face.

Ok, it's definitely time to go home.

You glanced at the papers on your desk and divided them into two piles, one of them going into your drawer, and the other in Messina's office.

You sighed heavily as you got up, the old chair creaking under your weight.

The click of your heels against the tiles echoed off the walls as you made your way to the Messina's door.

She's not gonna be happy about how many papers she's gonna have to look over in the morning...

You turned the doorknob and the door emanated a soft shriek as you pushed it open.

You walked to the desk and just when you were about to drop those papers on it, a voice rumbled from beside you

"You waited"

You gasped, turning around immediately in shock

"Jesus Christ!" you breathed, realizing who it was "You scared me"

"I'm sorry sweetheart" Javier spoke softly

sweetheart? When did that happen? And when did my body get permission to react this way?

He was leaning on the doorframe, his arm crossed over his broad chest.

"what are you doing here?" you asked, retracting your hand from your hammering heart and finally setting the files on the desk.

"I told you I'd be back" he put simply "We never got to finish our talk this morning"

You swallowed what felt like sand in your mouth,

A part of you, a naive, stupid part of you, was hoping he would have already forgotten about that, but of course, it's Javier F. Peña we're talking about, and when it's about torturing you... you can be sure he'll never forget anything.

"what talk?" you lied through your teeth

maybe miracles are real, maybe he'll just let it go.

He didn't respond, he didn't need to, he saw right through you.

He smirked instead, uncrossing his arms and taking a step towards you.

Now your heart wasn't racing from the scare, this was all him.

You were the only people in the office, hell, the building probably, and he was right there in front of you, looking at you like he could see right through your clothes.

"You paused" he murmured, now towering over you

"What are you talking about?"

Fake it until you make it, right?

"You paused this morning"

You frowned, pretending not to know exactly what he was talking about “Listen Peña I gotta go home, so if you-“ you moved out of his way, starting towards the door, but before you could actually exit the room, his hand on your wrist stopped you, making you turn around

“Do you want me to fuck you, agent y/l/n?”

To say heat rushed to your face was an understatement

“What the fuck?”

“Oh don’t look so surprised, I saw how you looked at me before” he cooed, wetting his lips

“And how did I look at you?” you shook your arm out of his hold, just for him to get even closer to you, his body now inches away from your own

“Like you wanted me to say just that” he murmured “like you wanted me to bend you over your desk and take you right there in the middle of the office”

A breath got caught in your throat, and as much as you wanted to get out of his penetrating gaze, you couldn't do anything but stare at those endless wells of brown.

I don't know what to say, What the fuck could I say?

The same pleased grin was adorning his lips, and for a moment you pondered whether you wanted to smack or kiss it off of him.

"I don't know what you're talking about" you managed to say, praying you sounded more confident than you actually felt

"c'mon sweetheart" he chuckled "I know you want it" he breathed, ducking closer so he could whisper in your ear as he moved some hair out of your face "A good fuck wouldn't hurt you... you're always so tense"

He drawled out his words like spells

"You're confident for a man who needs to pay women to fuck them"

he smiled amusedly at that

"Is that a challenge?"

"most definitely not" You ignored the shiver running up your spine

he raised his head again so that he could look at you

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, y'know," he said "It would just be two friends helping each other out"

"since when are we friends?"

"fine then" he agreed "Two colleagues"

Was he being serious?

Did I fall asleep at my desk and this is just some fucked up lucid dream?

"c'mon baby" he persisted, his hands finding your waist "I can make you feel real good"

"Peña..." you breathed, trying to get your mind to collaborate and realize what a fucking mistake you were about to make

"yes, sweetheart?" the bastard asked, his voice dropping an octave.

You gulped, cursing yourself internally

There was no turning back, your mind was already made up... and he knew it too.

You glanced out the door.

No one was here,

No one would ever have to know about this.

"If I agree... we'll never speak of this again ok?" you stated "This never happened"

The widest grin you'd ever seen split his face

"You sure about that, baby?" he murmured, "that way..." he brought his right thumb to your mouth, slowly tracing its shape "How will you be able to beg me to do it again?"

You snorted "please"

"Ok, how about this" he proposed then "I promise to never speak of it again, if after we're done... You can sincerely tell me that that wasn't the best sex of your life"

You laughed again, "fine"

"You can't lie" he reminded you, his mouth now ghosting yours

"I won't" you repeated "Now can you please just-"

"Gladly" he muttered, but before you had time to respond or think of any other rules to impose, his lips were already on yours, and his tongue had slipped into your mouth

He was...hungry

Both his hands wrapped around your waist and he picked you up like you weighed less than a feather.

The squeak you let out was muffled by his mouth, but you somehow managed to wrap your legs and arms around him in the haze.

his hands were on your ass, and the groan he let out didn't even try to hide just how much he liked them there.

You could feel his mustache, taste his cigarettes, and his scent was wrapped around you like a mantel, and god you hated admitting it but it felt good, he felt good

And you were so caught up in everything that your body was feeling for the first time in so long, that you didn't even realize he hadn't stayed still, but in fact, had walked you right in front of Messina's desk and was now sitting you on it.

Oh god

Why did it now just tick that you were in your boss' office?

"changed your mind yet?"

Javier on the other hand, couldn't have cared less

"From just a kiss?" you teased, cocking an eyebrow

He snickered, parting your legs so he could fit in between them.

His mouth trailed away from yours until it found your ear "Well I am very talented with my mouth" he murmured, before biting your lobe.

You wouldn't have even realized you had moaned if it wasn't for that smug smirk on his face.

"Oh don't worry" he cooed, his mouth now lowering to kiss your neck "I'll show you in a minute"

His lips started a slow, torturous trail down your neck, each peck sending a ripple of warmth to your core, and when his teeth grazed your collarbones, then you couldn't do anything but whimper, as you threw your head back.

You couldn't see him, but you sure as hell could feel that smile on his lips.

Next was your blouse, he took his time gently undoing each button, reserving a kiss for every new inch of skin he uncovered, until the fabric wasn't doing anything to cover up your bra, and all he needed, and hence did, was to get rid of your shirt.

"fuck" he muttered mostly to himself, all his eagerness showing for a moment as he removed your black bra like his life was on the line "Where have you been hiding all this?"

"I haven't been hiding anything, and you know it" you scoffed "I catch you staring at least twice a day"

A soft chuckle fled his throat "Can you blame me?" he asked, his eyes focused on your body "I mean look at you" his hands traveled up your belly until they were cupping your tits "You belong in a museum"

And you knew he had probably said that same line to more girls than you could ever imagine, but the blush on your cheeks rose nonetheless.

But before you had time to lie and ask just how many those girls were, he had ducked and sucked your left nipple into his mouth.

"oh shit" you whispered, hypnotized by the image in front of you.

He caught you staring as he opened his eyes, and just when you were expecting a snarky comment, he only smirked before taking your other nipple into your mouth.

This time you closed your eyes as you moaned just to be safe.

He let go of your skin with a pop, making you whimper.

"Can I take off your skirt sweetheart?"

What is this, a joke?

"mh-mh" you hummed

"All the sudden you don't wanna talk?" he mocked "Use your words baby"

You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes

"Yes, Javier, you can take off my skirt"

A smirk pulled at his lips

"Good girl"

If you were wet before, those two words had now rendered you completely drenched, and that look on his face told you he knew exactly what he was doing

His fingers quickly slipped under your skirt, and before you knew it, you were sitting in front of him in only a pair of black panties, and your work heels.

You were breathing as if you'd just run a marathon once he started peeling your panties off of you.

"wait" you suddenly remembered

"What is it sweetheart?" he stopped

"I-" all the sudden you were embarrassed "I didn't shave"

he looked at you like you'd just told him to go fuck himself

"Baby girl, you're insulting me" he cooed, stoking your sides "You take me for a man who cares about that sort of thing?"

"Oh," you breathed "I just-"

"You got me all wrong sweetheart" he shook his head, slowly kneeling between your knees and gradually taking off your panties in the process.

"god, you're beautiful" he breathed, once you were entirely bare before him.

And again, red crept up your cheeks.

He picked one of your legs up and unhurriedly bent down to kiss you just above your ankle, and then your calves, and then your knee, and then all the way to your inner thigh, until you were screaming internally and your heart was beating faster than you thought humanly possible.

he took his time placing your foot on the chair next to him, so you were spread wide for him, and then did the same thing all over again to your other leg, only changing his routine when he placed your leg on his shoulder instead of the chair.

You were close to hyperventilating.

"Javier..."

"What sweetheart?" he teased, his lips now inches from where your body was begging him to be "You're already desperate?"

"You-You wish" you lied

He chuckled, and the vibrations of his voice went straight to your core, making you whimper

"no?" he taunted, kissing you even closer to your cunt

"no- just-" you swallowed

"what? Tell me what you want baby"

"You know what I want" you begged

"I do, but I wanna hear you say it" he murmured, kissing you just above your pussy "I want to hear you begging me to lick this pretty pussy of yours"

"That's not going to happen" you breathed

He grinned "You sure?" his lips lowered to kiss your clit

"fuck" you moaned with a thread of voice

"You sure you don't want me to?" he asked again, his lips now finding your hole "'cause that would be a damn shame..." he continued, the tip of his tongue now finding your core for just a second "You look fucking delicious baby"

"I-" you stuttered, shutting your eyes "Javier c'mon"

"I want to hear you say it, princess" he smirked, "What's the magic word?"

And fuck him, but you were desperate

"Please" you surrendered "Please Javier just-"

The rest of your sentence died in your throat as he finally dove down, taking your pussy into his mouth.

"Javi" you whimpered, clutching his head to your body with one hand and gripping the desk with the other.

You had never called him Javi a day in your life, but this seemed as good a time as any.

He sucked on your clit first, stretching it into his mouth and going back again and again making you squirm and desperate to come, before starting to devour every other inch of you, licking up and down and swirling his tongue over your nub, getting drunk on your taste.

"Shit- oh my fucking god" you panted, losing every bit of decency you had and grinding against him.

His mustache was tickling your skin, only making you want to moan louder.

Good thing you were the only people left in the office.

And just when you thought it couldn't get any better, two of his thick, long fingers plunged inside of you.

"Fuck-javi!" you screamed

he curled them inside you while he didn't even dream about stopping his work on your clit, and you couldn't do anything but arch your back as a series of obscenities left your mouth.

his other hand came up to palm your breasts and again, a shock of pleasure coursed through you as he added a third finger.

"Oh god- that's-" you moaned "Javi"

You didn't even know what to say, you just knew that you hadn't felt this good or full in far too much, if not ever.

Three fingers of his didn't even compare to the two of yours you had spent months using as some sort of relief.

"I love it when you say my name like that baby" he leaned away for just a moment to say, before resuming his work of art.

"f-fuck" you cried "Javi please"

"What is it sweetheart?" he asked, his fingers pushing in and out of you filling the room with an obscene sound.

You were soaked.

"Javi I think-" You felt your stomach start to shake as the orgasm was about to take hold but... but something wasn't right.

"fuck javi something's wrong I-" you moaned,

You had never felt like this, it felt like... it felt like you were about to pee.

"I think I'm gonna-"

And before you had time to finish, he pitched your left nipple and a tsunami of pleasure washed you all the way to the shore as your vision went white.

You were sure your moans could be heard from outside of the building.

"Goddamit sweetheart" his deep voice brought you back to reality

You opened your eyes, and he was... he was glistening, and- and that wet spot on his shirt wasn't there before, was it?

"Did I-" Your eyes widened

You...squirted? You didn't even know you were capable of something like that

"That was the hottest thing I've ever seen baby," he said, looking at you as if you'd just turned water to wine "Was this your first time?"

"yeah" you nodded

A smile spread on his lips as he stood up again

"You still sure you aren't gonna beg me to do that again?"

"God, I hate you" you breathed

"yeah? Enough to let me fuck you apparently" he murmured, before crashing his lips with yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

"Shut up" you mustered, before he kissed you once again.

You racked your hands down his chest, fumbling to undo his shirt's buttons.

thank god he didn't wear a tie today

Once his shirt was off with his help, you let your hands move down his body until they found the bulge in his tight jeans.

"fuck" he groaned, as you palmed him through the fabric.

His belt was even harder to take off.

"Eager sweetheart?" he cooed, undoing his belt for you, and while he was at it, unzipping his pants.

"Shut up"

He smirked that same smug smirk he seemed to have stapled to his lips "We'll see who'll be the one who won't be able to talk in a minute"

"I'm not sucking your dick, Peña"

"That's not what I'm talking about baby" he murmured, getting rid of his pants and boxers at the same time.

Your gaze lowered and- oh shit

"fuck" you muttered, not even realizing you had

He chuckled, his chest raising with his voice "What? Too big for you?" he mocked, kissing your cheek before trailing his mouth to your ear "Don't worry, I'll go slow just for you, sweetheart"

Your mouth was still agape, but you were finally able to tear your glare from his member.

"Do you-" you swallowed "Do you have a condom?" you remembered.

In no time he materialized one from the pocket of the jeans pooling at his feet.

"Of course" you huffed out a laugh.

He didn't pay you any mind you as he rolled on the condom, and you watched the motion, mesmerized by... well, by how big he was.

He caught you red-handed, and his grin only widened.

"Open your legs for me sweetheart" he ordered, and something in his tone made you oblige immediately.

He positioned himself at your entrance, taking his dick in his hand and sliding it between your folds.

"fuck" you moaned softly, closing your eyes

"I want you to look at me" he stopped you, "You look at me when I'm inside you, baby"

You hesitated a moment before doing as told, looking into his lust-filled eyes.

"Good girl" he praised you, before finally entering you.

"Oh my god" you moaned at the stretch.

"That was just the tip sweetheart" he smirked, pushing himself even deeper.

Just the tip?

You looked to where your bodies were meeting and, to your dismay... he was right

How is that all gonna fit?

"It's gonna fit" he read your mind, retracting his hips just to thrust himself deeper "You're gonna take it all like a good girl y/n" he murmured against your mouth, as his fingers found your clit "and then when I'm done with you" he forced his cock into you again making you quite literally scream "you're gonna feel so sore you're gonna remember me every time you take a step"

And with that, he drove his whole dick into you, making you bite your own lip so hard you could almost taste blood.

"God you feel good" he groaned, starting to find a slow pace "so fucking tight for me sweetheart"

"fuckfuckfuckfuck" was all you could cry out into the air

it was so big

and so deep

"I know" he cooed, kissing your neck, before fastening his pace.

"Javi!" you screamed, one of your hands going to grip his shoulder to keep you anchored to this world.

It was nothing like anything you'd ever felt. You could feel him everywhere, taking hold of every single part of your being.

"Look at you" he murmured, kissing ur lips again, even if they were parted as you gasped for air "Taking it so well" he cooed, his fingers resuming their work on your clit "Being such a good girl for me" he continued, his breath fanning against your mouth "letting me use this pretty pussy of yours" he groaned, as you sucked him right in "drenching me with all your juices" he growled "so so good"

"javi please" you moaned

"do you even know what you're begging for?" he asked "Or are you so cock drunk that brain of yours has stopped working?"

"I-" You tried to come up with a comeback, but all you could do was whine and whine and then whine again.

"fuck" was now his turn to moan "babygirl you feel so fucking good"

"Javi"

"Yes say my name sweetheart" he thrust into you more harshly now, more deeply even somehow "Scream it"

"Fuck-javi!"

"just like that" he nodded, looking you right in your eyes as he split you in fucking half "Just like that baby"

"Javi I'm-" you whimpered, not able to find the words

"You're coming sweetheart?" he found them for you "You gonna drench me again?" he asked mostly himself "No you need to have it licked to do that, don't you?" he realized "fuck I can't wait 'till you'll let me have a taste again"

"oh my god" you moaned, as pure ecstasy ran through your body "Fuck I'm-"

"come all over me baby" he urged, grunting with every one of his deep fucking thrusts "Be a good girl and come on my cock"

And that was all you needed, that's all you heard before you were screaming his name as loud as you could, letting him drill you into another earth-shattering orgasm.

"fuck" he groaned, just after you were done, "fuck-y/n" was all he could muster before he too, had the best orgasm of his life.

it took a moment before any of you got enough breath in your lungs to do anything but stare into each other's blown-out pupils.

"So?" he asked, not even bothering to pull out

Part of you was still wondering if this was a dream, and the fact you couldn't feel most of your body certainly didn't help

"You know" you rolled your eyes

He smirked "I do know, but I wanna hear you say it"

"Yes, alright?" you admitted

"Yes, what?"

fuck. me.

"Fine" you sighed "Yes, Javier, it was the best sex of my life"

And again, his grin only got wider "Good" he said "'cause it was mine too" he gave your lips another quick peck "and there's no way we're not doing it again"

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nonranghaes · 5 months

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heads up! long distance relationships.

most of the time, you see sleepy minho because you called him in the middle of the night (for him). so when he calls you, you immediately think that something's wrong until you see his dimly lit face, all snuggled up in his blankets. he turns over once you pick up, eyes squinting in the low light.

"hey... everything okay?" you ask after a moment, pressing one of your earbuds further into your ear. you can't hear any of his cats, just the soft whirring of a small fan. "minho?"

"missed you." his voice is laced with sleep and soft, but you can hear it clearly. the sound of blankets shifting around him fills your ears, and he pulls the blankets back in closer. "that's all."

ah. you have sleepy, sappy minho now. sometimes you think you're usually the one who gets all mushy and emotional when you're away from one another for too long (it's always too long, to be fair)... but minho has his moments. always when he's sleepy, though: as if he thinks he needs to hold it together for the both of you. this always happens when the two of you are too busy to video call for a little bit. you smile a little, though, and watch as he runs a hand through his fluffy hair.

"cuddle with soonie."

he whines. "that's not the same." again, he curls up tighter in bed. "just... come see me."

"minho--"

"i know," he says, voice clearer. less asleep. "i just... i want you here. i'm tired of waking up with doongie's ass in my face because he's hungry instead of seeing you."

"i don't think me being there would stop doongie."

another groan. "i just--i miss you. i wanted to see your face again. send me more pictures."

"i will," you promise. "of what?"

"just... you. doing stuff. getting coffee or whatever. i just miss seeing your stupid face." he huffs.

"oh, so now my face is stupid, huh?" you're enjoying teasing him the way he teases you. you've called his handsome face dumb plenty of times, after all, and he always asks what it makes you that you love his dumb face so much.

"if i'm your dummy, you're my dummy," he says a moment later. "that's how this works."

you smile to yourself again, and see the way his eyes light up a little. he loves you. it's always clearest in moments like these: his eyes, the subtle smile he always has, the fact he's calling you in the middle of the night...

"we'll talk about this later, okay?" you say. you can't look at your bank info right now--and you'd rather not make minho look at his when he's like this. "i've gotta go back to work."

he just groans again, clearly annoyed. "just run away."

"don't tempt me." you smile, and blow a kiss at your camera. "we'll figure it out. love you. goodnight."

he mumbles the same, and the last thing you see before you send the call is his sleepy, smiling face.

soon, you promise yourself for the millionth time since you started dating minho. soon you'll figure it all out.

#nonranghaes.thoughts #nonranghaes.skz #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagine #skz imagine #stray kids x you #skz x you #lee know fluff #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee minho fluff #this is longer than i meant for it to be but im thinkin abt him :(

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mirukosbitchywife · 1 year

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hawks, miruko, fatgum, midnight and eraserhead x vigilante reader

REPOST the original one got flagged as s3xu4l content even tho it's just fluff :(

vigilante reader is tame basically acting as a pro hero just without the license, mainly focusing on saving people, and therefore none of the heros reallu care. no warnings just pure fluff

hawks/keigo takami:

-keigo would be a vigilante if he wasn't taken in by the commission. 100% he would not have stopped saving lives even if he got in trouble for it. he might even fuck around and manage to get you an actual hero license if you want one, even a fake one to get out of trouble if you need it

-basically. even as the number two hero he's no snitch and in fact really respects what you do. you guys probably met trying to save the same civilian or something and hit it off immediately

-he lets you follow him on patrols, absolutely no fucks. almost everyone thinks you're just one of his sidekicks and you basically act as one without the hero license. would just use his feathers to carry you away from any particularly hard ass heros (cough endeavor cough) if he needs to

-doesn't have a lot of friends but the ones he does have know all about you (including everything keigo gushes to them about you ugh) and they also don't care, they trust him as a person and a hero so by default they trust you

-probably also insists on training you but most of your spars end up in making out because he has no self control when it comes to you but you're not complaining

-end of day routine with keigo would def start with you two dancing in keigos living room, he just sweeps you up and starts dancing out of no where, doesn't even need music, the sound of you laughing at his antics is music enough for him, you've come to expect it every day when he comes home and it's one of the things you miss most when he's gone on a longer mission

-your rough days always end with you flying, even if you can fly using your own quirk, there's something about being held to the chest of the man you love while he flys through the night sky, placing unwavering trust in him to not let you fall while you admire the stars always makes your heart full, and for keigos rough days, you always preen his feathers, he's not used to anyone touching them besides his fans grabbing at him, so nothing relaxes him more than the feeling of your fingers in his feathers, straightening and adjusting them for him as you go

miruko/rumi usagiyama:

-is so aggressively supportive of the vigilante thing she'd see you out beating the shit out of a villain and be like BEAT THEIR ASS BABE GET EM

-insists on you training with her. if you want to be a vigilante you gotta be in shape enough to go toe to toe with the number 5 pro hero

-absolutely kicks your ass in training but it's okay bc she gives you kisses every time you win a match <3

-if you're not immediately recognizable as a vigilante she Will take you to the boring hero shit she has to go with. no one's willing to get close enough to you besides hawks, because if you're with her she'll glare down anyone who tries to approach her and hawks is the only one brave enough to get closer (she also trusts hawks the most out of all of them and knows hes no snitch)

-has a sixth sense for when you're in trouble, so if you're ever in over your head in the same city as her ur opponent better start praying

-on especially hard days for you, rumi gives a mean back massage that leaves you putty in her hands, on rumis hard days you always do her hair. she finds it so relaxing and loves the styles you do on her and will proudly wear whatever you did as long as she can

fatgum/taishiro toyomitsu:

-taishiro is just That Guy yk u guys probably met because he picked you up by your scruff during a fight you were losing and he jumped in all heroic like *swoons*

-him being That Guy /pos and all his only reaction after dealing with the villain is to put you down and be like woah. hello person i have never seen in my life before this very second right now. you should hurry along i don't want any civilians caught in the cross hairs when the police arrive. anyway random stranger i've never seen ever you should totally come by my hero agency and train in case you know. you get caught close to another villain attack

-guys got a heart proportional to the rest of him how could you not do anything for him he's sunshine personified. if he said jump you'd ask how high he's just got that affect

-he's probably the most chill pro hero aside from like. aizawa. you know how like the bigger the dog the more chill they get (usually). yeah same affect with him he minds his business stays in his lane does heroic deeds on the reg yk

- his favorite thing to do with you is spend time with you laying on top of him <33 he usually takes up all the space on wherever he's lying but no complaints can be heard when you get to cuddle on top of him all night

-end of day routine with taishiro would pretty much be him coming home from work, flopping on the couch, and dragging you to lay on top of him to doze until the food he ordered arrives (even if you wanted to there's no way you could cook for tai after work, you'd have a hard enough time cooking for Any pro hero let alone one who's quirk is dependent on food)

-your rough days usually entail you crawling inside his shirts to be closer to him (in my mind his clothes are probably usually baggy because they need to be able to withstand his full size and after a day at work he'd probably be at least somewhat smaller) and him allowing you to curl up on him like a cat (he probably also pets ur hair like a cat but we don't need to mention that), his rough days probably entail something like baking treats together!! he seems like the kind of guy who really really enjoys quality time with a s/o and combining that with food? his bad day melts away immediately

midnight/nemuri kayama:

-honestly you're probably not even the first vigilante she's dated, if there's one thing nemuri is gonna do it's whatever the fuck she wants lmao

-she's def the type of person to be like rules are meant to be broken

-nemuri LOVES going out with you, you better pray you don't have a recognizable face because there's no way you're getting out of going out to dinner and her dragging you shopping and her showing you off any chance she gets(not that you'd want to get out of that stuff i mean. it's nemuri)

-nemuri prefers working night shifts even when not working at ua so she can force you to take a break when she takes hers and she always packs you food <3

-she also prefers night shifts so you both can protect each other, shadowing one another in case one of you gets over your heads, the other one never being too far

-she probably has a lot of cats and by default they're your cats so usually while nemuris gone at ua you're playing with her cats. (nemuri probably has hundreds of pictures of you with a cat on top of you after you fell asleep)

-her favorite time of day is when you're both home and sweaty from fighting, your end of day routine always starts with taking a bath together, washing grime off the other, using the tenderness to reset your minds after a long day

-she loves to pamper you, do your nails, face masks, anything you want ,and uses her quirk slightly on you after a particularly rough day, and for her rough days you always make sure she gets a foot massage and glass of wine with a book <3

eraserhead/shouta aizawa:

-same shit different day yeah? he probably mostly has vigilante friends if we're honest (aside from hizashi and nemuri of course)

-is definitely used to dealing with vigilantes both a professional and unprofessional sense, nothing you can do will shock him, and you can always count on him to save your ass when things go south, it's like he has a second quirk with the way he's able to sense when you're either about to do something stupid or about to die. usually both.

-you guys patrol at night together, you both prefer working when you know the other is somewhere nearby in case things go south, and more often than not you take cases on together (although Technically it's just him on the paperwork)

-omg what if you guys meet because he saw you feeding a cat and snuck up on you only for you to. notice him? holy shit?? you could sense his presence?? he was flabbergasted. that like never fucking happens

-end of day routine is you bullying him into a shower with you and him making you wash his hair as payment. literally a fucking cat. we both know he wouldn't shower after patrol alone he'd just go to sleep.

-your rough days always end up with you in a caterpillar looking ass sleeping bag with shouta but you'd have it no other way. his rough days are full of cat cafes. they just relax him like nothing else

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astercontrol · 2 months

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If KOSA passes

Or if any other form of censorship (there are many in the works!) ever succeeds at stepping in to impede our ability to communicate online:

We have to make plans.

Now, I dunno who'll even see this post. The few followers I have are TRON fans (who despite the fantasy we live in, tend to have realistically dismal views IRL about Disney and the various corporate uses of software).

And this fandom, on average, is pretty tech-savvy. It's where I've encountered the most people under 20 years old who actually know how to use a desktop or laptop computer.

So, if there's any hope for what I'm thinking about, this is prolly a good place to start with it.

(As with all my posts, I encourage reblogging and containment-breaching.)

(Gifs are clips from TRON 1982, mainly the "deleted love scene," from the DVD extras.)

Anyway.

Current society has moved online communication much too far onto major social media sites for my comfort. Whoever you communicate with over the internet, chances are you do it through a service owned by a big company: Tumblr, Twitter, Discord, Telegram, Facebook, whatever. Even TikTok (shudder).

These sites, despite their many flaws, can provide experiences that are valuable and hard to get otherwise. And once all your friends are on one site, you can't just leave and stay in touch with them all, not unless they all go the same place. It's easy to see why it's hard to abandon any social media platform.

But a backup plan is important. Because, as we've seen over and over, social media sites can't be relied on. They change their policies suddenly, without good reason-- and are inconsistent, even discriminatory, about enforcing those policies.

If they're funded by ads, the advertisers are their main customers, and your posts are the product. Their goal is that the posts most valuable to the advertisers get seen by people the advertisers consider desirable customers.

Helping you communicate-- making your posts get seen by the people you want to communicate with-- is optional to them.

Not to mention that the whole business model of an ad-funded website is generally unsustainable. Many of these sites are operating at a loss, relying on shareholders in a fragile bubble, doomed to fail soon just from lack of real profit.

And the more restrictions --like KOSA-- that the law puts on freedom of online speech, the likelier they are to go down or just become unusable. Every rule a site is required to follow is another strain on its resources, and most of them are already failing badly at even enforcing their own self-imposed rules.

If we want any control over our continued ability to stay in touch with our online friends-- we need to have a backup plan. Maybe it'll be simple at first, a bare-bones system we cobble together-- but it's gotta be something that will work. For a while at least.

There are lots of really good posts about ways to build your own website, using a service like Neocities. I VERY MUCH recommend learning this skill-- learning to make websites of the very simplest, most stable, glitch-resistant type, made of html pages-- which you can upload to a host while you store backups on your home computer. If you value the writing and art that you put online, this is probably the safest you can keep it.

But that's for making your own creative work public.

As for communicating with others-- for example, receiving and answering other people's comments on your work-- that gets more complex. I personally haven't found it worthwhile to troubleshoot the problems that come with having a system that allows visitors to comment publicly on my website.

But what we do still have-- and likely will for a long time-- is email.

Those of us who came of age before social media's current hold... well, we might take this for granted. Email was the first form of online contact we ever encountered… and thus it can seem to us like the most ordinary, the most boring.

But in the current world, it is a rare and precious thing to find a method of communicating that doesn't require everyone in the chat to be signed on with the same corporation.

Email is, as of now, still perfectly legal-- as much as social media companies have been trying to herd the populace away from it. I'm sure there are other ways to share thoughts online that are not bound by laws. But I am not going to go into that here.

Email service is provided by law-abiding companies, which will comply with subpoenas if law enforcement thinks you are emailing about doing illegal things. So, email is not a surefire way to be safe, if laws become dystopian enough to threaten your freedom to talk about your own life and identity.

But it's safer than posting on a public social media page.

For now.

Email is beautifully decentralized. You can get an email address many different ways-- some reliant on a company like Gmail, others hosted on your own domain. And different people, with all different types of email addresses, hosted in all different ways-- can all communicate together by the same method.

Of course any of these people, individually, can lose their email address for some reason or other, and have to get a new one. But as long as they still know the email addresses of their contacts, they can reconnect and recover from that loss. The structure of a group linked by email is reliant not on a single company-- but on the group itself, the friends you can actually count on.

This is why I am trying to promote the idea of forming email lists, as a backup plan to give people a way to stay in touch as mainstream social media sites prove to be unsustainable.

I'm envisioning a simple system of sending emails to several addresses at once, and making each reply visible to everyone in the chat by using "reply all" (or, if desired, editing the To field to reply to only some).

If enough people get used to using email in this way, it could fill most of the needs met by any other group chat or forum …without depending on a centralized social media company that's taking dystopian measures to try and make the business profitable.

So here are some thoughts about how I personally imagine it could work.

(Feel free to comment and bring up any thoughts I haven't addressed, or suggestions to customize how specific groups could set it up. This is meant as more of a starting point for brainstorming than a catch-all solution.)

As I see it, here are the basics of what you and your friends would each need to start out:

An email address. Any kind, hosted anywhere. You should use a dedicated email account just for this group, one that you do NOT use for other communication. Being in this group will result in things you don't want happening to your main email address-- like getting a TON of email, one for every post and reply. Or someone could get your email address that you really don't want any contact with. Use a burner email account (one that you can easily replace) and change it if needed.

The knowledge of how to "REPLY ALL" in your email. This will be necessary in order to add a comment that everyone in the group can see.

The knowledge of how to EDIT THE "TO" FIELD in your email, and remove addresses from the list of all recipients. This will be necessary if you want to CHANGE WHICH PEOPLE in the group can see your comment.

The knowledge of how to FILTER WORDS in your email. This will be necessary if a topic comes up that you don't want to see any mentions of.

The knowledge of how to BLOCK PEOPLE in your email. This will be very important. If someone joins this email group who you do not want to interact with, it will be up to you to BLOCK them so that you do NOT see their messages. (If they are bad enough to evade the block with multiple burner accounts, that's what you have a burner account for. Change it, and share the new one only with those you trust not to give it to them.)

Every person in the group will be effectively a "moderator" of the group, able to remove people from it by cutting their email addresses out of the "To" field. Members will all have equal "moderator" privileges, each able to tailor the group to their own needs.

This means the group may naturally split, over time, into other groups, each one removing some people and adding others. Some will overlap, some won't. This is good! This is, in my opinion, what online interaction SHOULD be like! There should be MANY groups like this!

In this way, we can keep online discussion alive, no matter WHAT happens to any of the social media websites.

If the dystopia got bad enough to shut down email, we could even continue with postal mail and photocopies, like they did in the days of print-zine fanfiction.

If it looks like the dystopia is gonna come for postal mail too, we'll use the connection we have to preserve whatever contacts we can with people who live near us.

Not saying it's GONNA get that bad. But these steps of preparation are good no matter exactly what kind of bad stuff happens.

As long as some organized form of communication still exists, we'll have a place where it's at least a little safer to be your true self…

to plan events and meetups…

and maybe even activities a little too risque to make the final cut of a 1982 Disney movie.

They're trying to censor us. We want a Free System. So we're gonna fight back.

For the Users. Not the corporations.

Peace out, programs. <3

#tron #tronblr #tron 1982 #userworldproblems #diy punk #censorship #kosa #internet literacy #email #solutions

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antimony-medusa · 1 year

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One of the things that I think sometimes gets lost when we talk about what's appropriate in fandom spaces is the notion that things can be appropriate in one space, but not for another. And that doesn't mean that the thing that's inappropriate in that setting is wrong, it just means that it's rude in that space. I think people want a single set of rules that's appropriate everywhere, but the thing is, you have to be able to assess the situation, and adjust your behaviour accordingly.

So an example. I have a fairly popular text post that was me asking about c!phil and religion in all innocence, and someone said "the only thing I have to say about c!phil is that he worships on his knees, thank you and goodnight". And I reblogged it like "I can't believe I forgot about how this fandom does phil analysis", cause it was at the height of the dilfza memes.

Anyways that's obviously a phil-is-happily-married/oral sex joke, in an oblique innuendo way, and on this site, where Phil is not here, and his friends are not here, with it being clear I was talking about the block man character, and we make jokes about sex and profanity (a very popular url scheme for a long time was "[name]shugecock" (or smalldick, depending on the joke)— that's a fine joke to make. I'm an adult, I can make sex jokes about fictional characters on the sex joke fictional character social media site.

If I was to make that joke in Philza's twitch chat, a) in his face, b) with his wife modding, c) in an enviroment where people aren't prepped for sex jokes, d) with it being not clear if I was talking about the cubito or about the real guy, that would be wildly inappopriate. I would be banned in every chat Philza mods in and I would deserve it.

That doesn't mean that it's inappropriate to make the joke in the first place though, just because I wouldn't do it at a Phil meet and greet. It means you gotta learn to read the room. (And like, sometimes it's hard to learn to read the room, but you can do it by pure brute-force memorization. I did.)

This is the same theory that underlies the fact that you can call your friends a bitch in a friendly way, because you are friends and you know each other's boundaries, but if you call your boss a bitch, you will be fired. There are rules about workplace appropriateness, and there are rules about what's appropriate in front of kids (I teach teens, I do not swear in front of them, I swear a LOT in front of my roommate), and there are rules about what's appropriate in different fandom spaces. Participating in an exchange about pregnancy and babies with your favourite blorbo of the moment? Great. Showing the actor gift art you got of him pregnant? No. Bad. Go directly to jail, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

The thing that concerns me is that I think there are slight signs that as we get more comfortable with sexy jokes and offcolour remarks as a MCYT fandom (QSMP is the big banner example but it happens with other smps), we're taking what's appropriate in one space (tumblr, home of the brain worms, where I have seen the blog "philzaswetpussy" on my dash), and we're bringing it into places that it's not appropriate (sure, slimeariana is clearly canon, but maybe don't put the actual dicks-out fan art in the art tag on twitter that slime checks). Cause we can obviously tell that the rules twitter is going with are silly for here, so it's full speed ahead for roier/spreen etc, but the trick here is that it's full speed ahead HERE, or in fandom servers, and not necessarily in the streamer's faces.

We have a bunch of situations where creators have said that it's not their place to weigh in on shipping or nsfw etc, and people have taken that as a go ahead and that's fine, but thats still something where I'd like, caution people that just because they said "not gonna look at it not my deal", that doesn't mean that like, you should make it difficult for them to avoid looking at it. Talking about scitties is an honourable tradition, but telling scar that he makes you question your sexuality in his TTS— I made a horrified noise in real life and the cats came to look at me.

And I'm talking about the shipping, but this is also a thing with like— sometimes I see a streamer and I go "my friend you just vividly described neurodivergent symptoms" but it is ABSOLUTELY not my place to say that in their chat. It might not even be appropriate to make comments about it on my blog, with the amount of followers I have. I have to keep the "streamer just described the ADHD experience again :pensive:" comments for the group chat. And we all nod and go "yeah sounds like streamer", and we do not put it in his face, cause that's inappropriate.

We get to have fun with the fictional characters, including off-colour fun, but we still have to remember that there are real people who don't know us who are steering those fictional characters around, and it can be profoundly weird to see some of the (stuff that is appropriate in fandom spaces!) just up in your face in the regular fan art tag.

Just think about the space you're in, and who you're in front of, and if a CC notice is actually likely, and if a CC notice would be Very Bad actually with what you're doing, and keep the "world's sluttiest absent father" bracket (with associated slutty fan art) for here, not with the streamer tagged on twitter.

#discourse #medusas banger posts #fandom meta

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coccinelle-et-chaton · 2 months

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OK OK I FINISHED BINGING THE ENTIRETY OF NATLA AND I GOTTA SAY IT WAS A GREAT ADAPTATION!!!

Here are my thoughts so far:

The parts where I still had my reservations for the first half were definitely addressed in the second. There were more Kataang beats, especially in the last three episodes.

Please that whole part before the zutara showdown where Aang goes like "go easy, enough ppl have suffered" and zuko is more or less like "lol it's cute u think i'd hold back" and then aang has this proud little smirk like "oh i wasn’t talking to you"😏 Also his proud little smirk when Katara is fighting Pakku PLEASE HE IS GOING TO BE THE PROUDEST BF

They covered the most important points and had a decent few scenes of fan service, loved that.

However, the adaptation is not perfect and there are definitely parts that were lacking, at least to me. Primarily, I think they did our girl Katara a little dirty not emphasizing as much on her arc as opposed to Sokka's, for example, and also the way her ascension to master was pretty telly instead of showy

There was definitely something to love in every episode, but I think the weakest ones have to be Omashu and Spirited Away.

My ABSOULUTE FAVORITE episodes were Into the Dark and Masks. Dallas, Paul, and Gordon did SUCH a great job in them. I cannot WAIT for the proper leaves from the vine scene and also to have more of zuko interacting with aang.

ZUKO IS BABY BOY AND DOES NOT KNOW ANYTHING NOT EVEN ABCs 🥺🥺🥺

My favorite was Zuko by far, yes. I think the performance and the was he was written struck the best balance of that goofiness and tragedy atla is originally known for. That’s not to say the other kids didn't do a good job, but Dallas' Zuko was by far the best imo

I understand now what the showrunners meant by making the show more mature and serious. I cannot say I didn't like it, but I can see it being an acquired taste especially for the part of the fandom that is more purist/demanding. I like that the focus emphasized more on the consequences of war and that it reflected on the cycles of violence and hurt, what they do to a person and how the wounds pass down generationally. I think this emphasis on war, compassion, kindness, all those things are definitely an important message in this time and day. However, it is a little too serious for my taste, PRECISELY because of the times we are living in. Back when the OG came about the world was in a time of relative peace. But now we get pictures of carnage and genocide mixed in with videos of cute puppies, so it's definitely a different place. It was much easier to understand the gravity of the genocidal/bombing scenes imo, almost to a point that they seemed watered down/kid friendly compared to the real thing that we see on our phones everyday. Because of that, I think erring more on the comedy, the balance between what it ACTUALLY means to be hopeful and not just talking about it, is the one thing the show could improve upon for next seasons.

All in all I am VERY pleased with the adaptation. There were moments where I definitely bawled my eyes out, shouted, and laughed the same way I did the first time I watched the show. All I can say is, for those still on the fence about watching it, so long as you go in with an open mind and with the explicit objective of enjoying yourself, it will be a fun watch.

#natla #atla #natla spoilers #atla spoilers #aang #katara #sokka #zuko #kataang #zutara #sukka #suki #uncle iroh #natla review #avatar the last airbender #avatar the last airbender live action #atla live action

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 3 months

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Safe and Sound

Jack Harlow Masterlist

Request: I really like the idea that Jack always leaves his girl in the "care" of one of his inner circle whenever he gets pulled away at an event. Like he's gotta go on stage or go to another area of the venue and she can't come, so gets his good luck kiss and when he says bye to Like Clay or Urban, he just whispers in his ear "keep an eye on her" or "keep her close" or "watch out for my girl". Like she probably doesn't even know that he does it, and that's kinda what makes it all the more heart warming. Like yes, the area is private and there's probably security around, but the fact that when he can't physically be there to protect her, he turns to his best friend or brother to keep the most important person in his life safe.

Warnings: language

For as long as Jack could remember, the only thing he wanted to be was a rapper. He ate, slept, and breathed music for over a decade trying to make a name for himself, and while it took a while, everything he poured into himself and his career came back to him tenfold, and sometimes he couldn't believe how lucky he was. The good: amazing fans, financial security, and getting to live his dream definitely outweighed the bad, so he took everything in stride.

There were definitely times where he wished he could leave the house without being recognized, or didn't have a security team on his heels wherever he went, but that was the name of the game, and he'd make the sacrifice over and over again to be where he is now.

He didn't hold the same expectations for the ones that he loved, though.

While his friends and family understood that Jack Harlow was no longer just a kid from Louisville, and their lives were going to change along with his, Jack wasn't willing to put them in harms way for his sake. He could deal with the crazy fans, the big crowds of people, and the lack of privacy, because that's what he signed up for, but his people were off limits.

It also meant that the circle of people that he could trust was incredibly small, and honestly, he liked it that way. He knew that he could count on the people that stood to the left and the right of him, and that made all of the craziness a lot easier to deal with.

When you and Jack started dating, you were so caught up in the whirlwind of being in a relationship with someone you respected and cared for so much, you hardly noticed how much your life was changing. You'd never been with someone famous, let alone someone as famous as Jack, and while you were still getting used to the security team who accompanied you on some of your dates, waiting in the wings while you ate dinner or watched a movie, for the most part, your life was surprisingly normal. You were always a very headstrong person who valued their independence, and you were glad that your relationship allowed you to hold onto a semblance of control or Jack's lifestyle might have sent you running for the hills.

You thought it was a testament to the type of person Jack was and the life he led, down to earth and understated, but you had no idea how creative he had to get to keep you safe.

"What do you think of this top?" You twirled in front of your phone that you had propped up on your dresser, with Jack on FaceTime. He let out a long yawn before he narrowed his eyes to get a better look at the sheer blouse you were holding up to your form. "Looks good", he mumbled out, throwing himself on his hotel bed. It was only 8:15PM in Louisville, but 1:15AM in London where Jack currently was for work, and he was struggling to keep his eyes open while the two of you caught up on your days.

"Only good?", you asked as you gave it a second look in your mirror, a frown on your face. "I don't want to just look good tonight."

Jack ran a hand down his face as he let out a deep chuckle. "Ok, you look very good. Was that more convincing?"

"No", you answered curtly, tossing the top onto your bed before going back into your closet. You came back out wear a simple black sweater. "What about this one?"

"Uh, maybe just lift the bottom up a little bit." Jack directed you with his hand in an upward motion, and you lifted the shirt up around your belly button in a makeshift crop top. "Just a little more." You pulled the shirt over your bra, not quite understanding. "Jack, what are you doing?"

"Just a little bit more." You pulled it up over your head, your arms held up in the air. "Good now take it all the way off so I can see you without anything on." You let out a huff when you caught onto his joke, flipping him off in the camera. "You're an ass, you know that?" Jack could barely hear you over the roar of his own laughter, tickled with his own joke. "Where are you going anyway? I thought you were staying in tonight?" You could hear the apprehension in Jack's tone.

"Please, Jack, don't start." You let out a huff, knowing where he was going with this. "I'm going out with a couple of friends to a bar to celebrate Gigi's birthday, and then coming home, okay?" You had a run in with a crazed fan while out one night a couple of weeks ago, and while you were shaken up in the moment, the incident was long forgotten, in your mind at least. Jack was away from work, and the fact that he wasn't there to protect you, and you had no security around made his stomach turn.

"I can call Dave and he can be at your apartment in like 10 minutes. I'd feel a lot better if you let my security team go with you." Jack was trying his best not to be overprotective, but he couldn't help it when it came to you.

"And I'd feel a lot better if you trusted me." You gave him a pouty lip and he folded immediately, letting out a exasperated sigh. "Fine, but please text me when you get there and get back home, okay? Even if I don't answer right away."

"Okay promise. I love you, babe." You threw on a graphic tee and leather jacket before blowing a kiss to Jack, hanging up with him, and grabbing your purse to head out the door.

The bar was packed for a Thursday night, pop music blasting over the speakers as you made your way through the crowd, finding a table at the back of the room. You weren't scared to run into another fanatic, but you also wanted to play it safe, knowing it would give you and Jack piece of mind. You snapped a selfie of you and your friends and sent it off to Jack as confirmation you made it safe.

"Well look who it is!' You lowered your phone to see Urban and Clay smiling back at you, beers in both of their hands.

"What are you two doing here?", the inflection in your voice signifying your genuine confusion to see Jack's best friend and brother standing in front of you. You were very surprised to see them here, considering that a dive bar was neither of theirs scene.

"Can't two people enjoy a couple drinks at a bar on a Thursday night?" Urban slid into the booth next to you, wringling into his spot, Clay following in behind him.

"Two people, yes, you two, no. If I remember it correctly, you said "bars like this are contributing to the collapse of Louisville's culture." You held up your fingers in quotations. Urban went on a very long rant during dinner last month when you asked him if he knew of any knew any new places to go out downtown, and you hadn't brought it up since.

"I made him come out with me", Clay cut in, knowing you'd get the truth out of Urban sooner or later, "I was going stir crazy at home." He avoided eye contact with you, taking a swig of his drink.

You narrowed your eyes at both of them and they squirmed under your scrutiny, awkwardly shifting in place. You were incredibly intuitive and knew something else was going on, and Jack definitely had something to do with it. Something was off, and while you wanted to get to the bottom of it, this night wasn't about you, so you put it to the side until later, letting Urban and Clay join your group for the night.

Jack came home from London a couple days later, but was so wrapped up in prepping for his performance in New York, you didn't get the opportunity to ask him why his best friends just happened to be at the same location you were last week. You didn't want to assume he was sending his friends to check in with you, instead of just trusting you to be careful on your own, but it was just too much of a coincidence.

The night of the show you hung around the greenroom for a couple of hours while Jack was doing soundcheck and and running through last minute changes with his team. Jack had security posted at the door of his dressing room and didn't let anyone pass through the hallway where he was getting ready, but you didn't think much of it because that was protocol for him and his team's safety.

Clay and Urban found Jack as he was walking off the stage, Jack adjusting his in ear as he went through the motions of his performance in his head. The crowd was roaring behind them, growing impatient for the show to start.

"How did last week go?" Jack asked as soon as he spotted them.

"I don't know why you asked Urban to check in with Y/N, he's a terrible liar", Clay scoffed, earning an eye roll from the blonde. "I'm a terrible liar? Mr. "I can't make eye contact with her", Urban mocked Clay with exaggerated motions.

"Can you two stop it? I asked you to make sure she was safe, discreetly, but its obvious the two of you don't know what that means. What the hell am I paying you for?" Jack pulled at the collar of his shirt, the air around him stifling. Your safety was the only thing on his mind lately, and he couldn't focus on anything else.

"First of all, you're not paying us at all", Urban retorted, but Jack just sighed, pushing past them to go back to the dressing room. "And second of all, she's smart, man, its only a matter of time before she figures out you've got us going undercover. You should just hire a security team for her."

Jack leaned against the wall, letting a few crew members walk by before continuing. "I've tried that, but she is so damn stubborn, says she doesn't need security. She doesn't realize how important all of this is, the crazy fan approaching her was just the tip of the iceberg. You guys have seen how wild people can be." Urban and Clay nodded in agreement, but it did nothing to calm Jack's nerves.

"Dude, just talk to her. Tell her how important the security team is, I'm sure she'll understand." Jack stroked at his jawline, watching as Neelam came rushing down the hallway. "Five minutes, Jack." You got up from your chair at the announcement to give Jack a good luck hug and kiss before he went on stage.

Jack lowered his voice to Urban and Clay so you couldn't hear him. "The two of you keep an eye on her tonight, okay? Don't let her out of your sight. I can't have anything happen to her."

Jack trusted his friend and brother with his life and knew they'd never let anything happen to you. He grabbed your hand as he pressed a kiss to your temple and you followed him out to the side stage.

Most of the way though the show, you could feel your voice start to go from yelling and cheering for Jack over the music. Urban was in the crowd getting some action shots, which left Clay to watch over you. He glanced over at where you were posted all night, as you started to walk back to the greenroom to grab a bottle of water. He intercepted you before you got past the curtain, stopping you in your tracks. "What's up? Going somewhere?"

"Just gonna grab some water really quick." You motioned to your dry throat.

"Uh, I'll have someone get it for you." He looked around for a PA.

"Clay, its fine, I can get my own water", you chuckled, gently pushing past him. "Cool, cool! I'll join you, I could use some water too."

"Okay, you're being weird. Everything okay?" You crossed your arms over your chest as the two of you walked backstage. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just realized, you and Jack have been dating for a while and we never really got a chance to get to know each other."

You grabbed a bottle from the craft services table, looking over your shoulder at him. "And tonight seemed like a good time to do that?"

"Yeah, tell me about your childhood. Did you wet the bed?" He wasn't sure how he got to that line of questioning, palming his face in embarrassment. "I didn't mean to ask you that." He plopped down on the couch, letting out a deep breath. "This is harder than I thought it was going to be."

"What is? What the hell is going on, Clay? You, Urban, and Jack for that matter, have been acting so strange lately." You sat down next to him, taking a big gulp of water.

"He doesn't want to overstep, but you're a lot harder to keep track of then we thought you would be."

You gave him an incredulous look. "Is this about Jack and the whole security thing? I told him I was fine." Clay nodded, shifting to sit up and face you.

"I know how much he cares about you, Y/N, and that whole fan interaction scared the shit out of him, even if it didn't bother you." You tightened the grip on your water bottle as Clay spoke, the plastic cracking in your hand. You were so caught up in how you felt, Jack's feelings didn't even cross your mind. "He just wants to make sure you're safe, but since you won't take the security team, he had to take matters into his own hand."

"I knew you two showing up a the bar last Thursday wasn't a coincidence? How did you two figure out where I was anyway?"

Clay ran a hand over his buzzcut hair. "Jack texted us that night and told us to get our asses over there. You wouldn't take Dave, so we had to improvise."

"So he sent Dumb and Dumber to look after me, huh?", you said in jest, playfully shoving Clay in the shoulder. "We prefer Scooby and Shaggy, but whatever", he shrugged, making you giggle.

"I guess I can let Dave follow me around every once and a while." The thought of a 6'5", 300 pound man standing in the corner of your pilates class was kind of funny.

"Listen, I know that your life has changed so much since you met Jack, trust me, if anyone knows its me, and if you know my brother at all, you know he does not play about the people he loves." You nodded, smiling to yourself. Jack loved his family and friends so deeply and openly, it was honestly refreshing to witness it first hand. You could tell how much he cared about everyone, and wanted to see them succeed. It was one of the things you loved the most about him.

Clay smiled, jumping to his feet and extending a hand to help you up. "C'mon, lets watch the end of the show."

"Wait, who's Shaggy in this duo?", you asked, grabbing the offered hand. "Obviously Urban", Clay answered. "Shaggy gives off major stoner vibes."

You stood off to the side of the stage as the show ended, and Jack ran down the stairs, immediately searching the backstage crowd for you. You watched on as his team surrounded him and helped him get unhooked from the sound equipment, as Clay gave him a quick rundown of your conversation, Jack's gaze never leaving your face.

He slowly approached you, half expecting you to be pissed, but you just wrapped him up in a tight hug, your cheek rubbing against his scraggly beard. "Everything okay?", he chuckled, nuzzling into your hair. "Yeah, everything's fine." You pulled away with a smile, grabbing his hand to walk back to his dressing room and away from everyone else. You turned to him as he shut the door, giving the two of you privacy.

"Did something happen?" You were quiet, and that made him uncomfortable. He hooked his eyebrow as he searched your face to try to gauge your reaction. "Look, I know that Clay told you everything, and I know you asked me to trust you, and I promise I do, but-". You stopped him with an abrupt kiss to the lips, your chests colliding with each other. You were the first to break to take a breath, Jack pulling you in tightly to his body so you couldn't walk away. "What was that for?", he asked with a giddy grin.

"I owe you a thank you, baby. I was fighting you so hard on this security thing because I didn't want my life to change anymore, but I know now you were just worried about me, and I appreciate that so much." You reassuringly ran your hands up and down his chest, feeling his muscles flex underneath your palms at your touch.

"I just love you so much", Jack explained, grabbing your hands and pressing a kiss to your knuckles, "and I can't do what I have to do unless I know you're safe. I know its a lot, but I need you to do this for me."

You nodded, giving him a small smile. "I know, just give me some time to get used to it. I'll come around to the whole idea that my boyfriend is an celebrity, eventually." You drug out the last word sarcastically.

"So that's a yes to the security team?" Jack ducked down to make eye contact with you. "Uh, no, not a whole security team, just two bodyguards." You motioned over to the door, and Jack turned around to see Urban and Clay standing in the threshold. "These two dumb asses?" Jack threw a lazy thumb their way with a disappointed look.

You both chuckled at the rumble of objections that came from the two of them. "Hey! Is that any way to talk about your girlfriend's security team?" Urban threw an arm over your shoulders, pulling you in for a side hug. "Yeah, these two will blend in a little better than your security team, plus they are a very good time."

"Yeah, you hear that? We're a good time." Clay threw his arm over your shoulder as well, sticking his tongue out at Jack.

"Whatever." Jack threw his hands up in surrender with a smile. "You should know that a twelve year old girl beat him up when he was a freshman in high school." You stiffled a laugh as you looked at Clay, who was visibly upset.

"She was really big for a twelve year old!", Clay bit back as everyone in the room burst into laughter.

Tag-List:

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#jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jackharlow #jackman harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic

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precious-little-scoundrel · 3 months

Text

Dear John || Pt.1

Masters of the Air Fanfiction

Requested: ☑️ My sweet Bri begged for a love-letter-centric Egan fic and with her wonderfully infectious ideas this was produced, the first part of many.

Summary: Major John Egan wasn’t the pen-pal sort but a couple of hours into a dark night full of writing condolence letters, he finds himself wondering why he never tried his hand at the nicer forms of correspondence. Who better to reanimate his numb inspiration than the glamorous Miss Lana Tierney? -the army’s girl next door, the pinup so prolific she was practically a wall paper print and Bucky’s long-standing cinematic crush. It’s not like she’ll read it anyways, tucked up in luxury in Beverly Hills with carts of tedious fanmail burned in her back yard each day, his letter will get lost in the mix. It’s harmless. That thought -and the booze- may loosen his pen a little too much but it’s alright, it’s not like she’ll read it. Right? Right.

It was specified in the request to use or create some of those old WWII dirty acronyms, so in here you have Bucky making up his own for his starlet crush (acorn). I’m ripping off a few ladies here, Lana Turner, Betty Grable, Hedy Lamarr to name a few -the moodbaord is for general aesthetics, I try to keep my fem!readers and oc’s as ambiguous physically as possible. (Besides the fact Johnny Egan finds you mouthwatering, which -be honest with yourself here sweet thing!!- he would.

Rating: 18+ this is the letter writing, vintage form of sexting. i kid you not, this man swings wildly from sweet as pie to downright filthy and vintage slang for anatomical parts is used freely. This would make a better shameful diary entry than a letter but he’s a rogue and he’s in a war, cut him some slack.

Fun game: how many times can Major Egan manage to mention Buck in a horny fan letter to his crush?

Dear A.C.O.R.N.

It is highly unlikely that you remember me, but, all the same, we have met. Now, hear me out, I’m sure fellas say that to you all the time but my point still stands and to match them I’ll do you one better, seeing as how I am not buttering you up for something in return -I have met you, yes, but I have also sung to you.

There. Said it.

Not that you’d recall that either, but then again maybe you would, but either way it doesn’t matter as the entire reason I am writing to you is because it is entirely unlikely you will ever open this god-awful endeavor made of pen and ink.

I am quite drunk, you see.

A necessary medicine. And they do make good whiskey here, one of the few joys they haven’t rationed yet. It’s got me wondering what’s your poison of choice. Something fruity? Or are you an olive sucker? Like that salt on the rim? Or maybe you go for somethin’ silky and warm goin’ down your throat? Which-ever it is, I bet you’d be a surprise, sweet ACORN, I just know it. You were a surprise at the canteen. Back in Jersey? Before shipping out? I know you were on a whole tour and kisses were goin’ for dollars but still, you were a surprise.

A lovely one, really. And that’s the point of this letter. To tell you that you're lovely and while I’m not the pen-pal sort, I’ve written home 80 letters tonight to families whose boys I was supposed to bring home. It got me thinking: Bucky, why the hell don’t you write nice letters? Whyd you only write ‘em now that you gotta? And it occurred to me then that the one silver lining in this whole Air Exec job is the desk, the lamp and the office.

I could write anybody from here. I could write you.

And you wouldn't read it so I could write anything. And it could be a nice letter. ‘Cause I don’t know anybody of yours to tell you anythin’ sad about them and you don’t know me except that I’m alive and drunk. Which is better than those poor eighty two bastards. Which reminds me, I’ve still got two more but maybe Buck will take those, he took seventeen off to his bunk to write from there. Buck doesn't have a desk because he’s not as important as me and he has all the luck.

You’ve met Buck, too, Acorn. He was the appalled pretty one with the straw colored hair pulling me off you after we had our duet. He objects to your nickname, see, even though you didn’t seem to mind. You were lovely, A.C.O.R.N. And I’d not wanna ruin this letter by telling you what it means, not now that I’m actually writing to you and determined to be nice but Buck knows and while he agrees with me as much as any man in the nation that you’ve got the most robust rack on the silver screen -he has objections, you see. So it wasn’t the song or the canoodling he didn’t like, and I still say, he broke up a little love affair that night. Bastard. So I’m writing to you now because as the acronym suggests, I’ve got a goal in my mind in regards to you. I tell myself -Bucky, there’s reasons to make it back.

Reasons, Bucky, reasons. Like Acorn and her halo of gorgeous hair that smelled like coconuts and the way she thought my new lyrics were pretty clever. That’s what you said, acorn, you said they were pretty clever. Now I may have been a little drunk then, too, but I think you might’ve been tipsy, that coke smelled too strong to be straight. I still have the straw you gave me, it’s bent to hell but I’ve taken it up each mission. I’m not counting on it for luck so much as a reminder of the aforementioned reasons. To come back. Your lipstick has mostly worn off but I figure it’s still the same.

You had your precious lips around it. That’s what matters.

And that’s the sorta sentence that makes Buck think I shouldn’t write letters.

But what he can’t accuse me of is being dishonest or vague. I’m being straight with you. You deserve that much, you were lovely and very straight shootin’ yourself, dear little girl. I could pinch your cheeks right now, you’re so sweet. And don’t think me a coward for sayin’ all this under assumption that you won’t read it. I hope you don’t since it’s not worth your time and if you do I wish I’d written less about me and more about you but I need you to know if we were face to face I’d say the same:

You were lovely, you ARE lovely!!!! and I think all your work for us boys is swell and you’ve got the bestest set of knockers any of us have ever seen and I’m stayin’ alive in hopes to see ‘em again some day and while the girls here are swell and sweet they aren’t zippy like you. At least not the ones who’ve put out so far. And if I had you face to face, I’d find a way to make you laugh again and I’d tell you to your face you’re lovely and if I’d been David Nivin in Love Trap with you, I’d have stayed in that little kitchen with you and ate all your burnt flapjacks and watched you in your apron and made babies with you till we were old.

Anyway. It needed saying. And maybe I’ll say it to your face given the chance again. I was working my way up to a proposition for burgers and milkshakes when Buck ruined it. But maybe you’ll tour? Here!! Over here. In England or maybe in Europe once we kick the Nazis bastards out.

Now that’s motivation. That’s a reason! -clear out a nice little swath of land through fortress europe so Miss Lana Tierney can sing in the city of lights surrounded by nothin’ but wine and good food and a buncha boys who love and appreciate her.

Because we do, ma’am. We do.

And make no mistake, I do this to keep the country safe and try to bring as many boys home as I can but every second I also think - it’s where you are too, and so I must continue keeping it safe.

If you, by some godawful chance, do read this letter, please don’t feel pressed to respond or pull out a restraining order. Think of it this way, it’d just be one more “Dear John” letter and the system is clogged as it is. You just deserve a nice letter and my wrist is past sore, one more doesn't matter. And being unable to deliver nice, I’ve written this.

~ I am ever your respectful (and hammered) admirer, Maj. John Egan

P.S. if you do happen to read this I’m sorry. Buck told me not to do this but I just had to Acorn. You’re just too swell and I really have got to get myself to a theater before long, I miss your Angel face.

Masterlist

Thank you for reading! This was entirely out of my usual comfort zone but I’ve had fun writing it and I’m trying to tune my ear to pick up his voice, that’s been stretching. This series will have many letters in it but there will also be fic, so fear not. I’ve got some plans already figured out for this series but I do love a suggestion or ten so have at the inbox with what you’d like to see play out.

Hope you enjoyed, if you’d like to be tagged in future MOTA fics, drop a note below.

#masters of the air #callum turner #john egan #Major John Egan #Bucky Egan x reader #callum turner x reader #masters of the air fanfiction #mota fanfic #hbo war fanfic #Bucky Egan #mine #archive

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fillinforlater · 2 months

Text

Monday of Appreciation: Part 106

Hello everyone, Smite here!

I have returned with the (not yet annual) release of MoA. When you look at the release dates of some of these stories, you might realize how fucking far behind I am. The back log is literally at 100+ fics that I still want to check out, so please excuse this time capsule lmao.

No matter how old they might be, these fics are golden, so send the writers some love!

(Update: currently sinking into IRL work but also into waaaaaay too long fics. I promise I will give it my all to finish some of them in the next to weeks, but other things have priority rn)

-1-

@ggidolsmuts: Move ft. Nana (woo!ah!)

There is a disturbing lack of Nana fics (geez, Smite, write them yourself then! - shut up, inner voice!). I have to thank ddeun once more for keeping us well fed. Nana's move(s) and shifty facial expressions (from cute to deadly) can really leave a man stunned.

I want more Nana.

-2-

@essentiallyleaf: Kinktober Day 16 ft. Choi Yujin (TW)

The Trigger Warning is there for a reason.

Unique execution on writing. This fic might not consider all the moral implications a sexual relationship between siblings might have, but not everything has to be a case study... this more a study of, I guess, let's fuck Yujin no matter the blood coursing through our veins.

I get it, ngl.

-3-

@worldsover: Completeness ft. Mashiro, Yeseo

The Mashiro/Yeseo combo is so thick, it should be banned for being too overpowered - or at least it has to be stripped from the hands of the great Levi because otherwise I have to ask for more, more, MORE of this. Hell, I can barely think about anything but their bodies wtf

-4-

@praeluxius: Red Wine ft. Karina, Natty

Speaking of insane bodies, you are all of course familiar with the meta-defining Karina but have you considered Natty? How about both? At the same time??? Thank you and what in the fuck, Prael, for a very intoxicating threesome.

-5-

@syeollock: Fallen Angel ft. Hyewon

Yo, I know this fic! I'm very glad @syeollock was able to kick of their writing career with this it. I feel honored that I was able to help, but they were the one who came up with the idea and executed it very well. It's a pleasure to still see so much IZ*ONE content.

-6-

@birchleavesdawn: Breakfast in Bed ft. Ireh (Purple Kiss)

Very simple, though it is not simple to get that many notes with a very nugu idol. I gotta give my props, I understand were it is coming from and I'm really craving some Ireh for desserts.

-7-

@tothosewhoyearnforit: Stress Relief ft. Yeji

Relatable. The stress, I mean. I've never been a fan of leather outfits, I just find most others better, but holy fuck, the boots, the slut drop, the overall style... this Yeji was something else.

#kpop smut #mondayofappreciation #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader insert #izone smut #itzy smut #purple kiss smut #kep1er yeseo smut #kep1er smut #aespa smut #woo!ah! nana smut #wooah smut

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brooooswriting · 2 months

Note

hi!! could i request a leighton murray x reader where leighton and reader are friends and they’re at a party with the rest of leighton’s roommates but reader notices that leighton doesn’t seem really into it so she pulls her aside and it turns out that leighton isn’t feeling well (just like a stomach bug or smth) and reader takes her home and just fluff and stuff ensues? tysm!

I'm here for you

The fact that Leighton didn't really drink anything while pregaming was what should have ticked you off. But you didn't really think about it as you just thought that she might want to get up early.

“Alright, let's go everybody?” you hyped the other four up when you wanted to leave. Everybody, except for Leighton jumped off the couch to grab their jackets and get out of the dorm.

“I just gotta get something from my room, you guys can already go. I'll catch up” she told you guys as she carefully stood up. You've never been a fan of leaving anyone behind so you gave the others a nod, sending them their way as you waited for the blonde.

“You didn't have to wait you know,” she told you as she came out of her room, a jacket wrapped around her. Her face was a bit paler than normal but nothing that really concerned you.

“I wanted to. Couldn't leave a pretty girl like you behind” you “joked” which made her giggle as you walked out of the building.

“So you would have left me alone if I wasn't that pretty?” she jabbed making you laugh this time. The moment you arrived at the party you were pulled apart, Leighton was summoned by her roommates while you were summoned to play beer pong. It was about an hour and a half later that you finally saw her again as she stormed past you towards the bathroom. There was something in you that told you to follow her, so you quickly brushed past the other guests to not lose sight of her, your cup long abandoned.

“Leigh, you alright?” You asked as you knocked on the bathroom door. You could already hear her throw up which made you just open the door to hold back her hair. “Shh, it’s alright” you mumbled as one hand held her hair while the other one rubbed over her back to sooth her as best as you could. Once she was done you grabbed some paper and handed it to her with a comforting smile on your face.

“How’d you know?” She just asked as she wanted to sit on the dirty ground. This alone was a big ass warning sign, normally she’d never touch that floor. So you were quick to pull her up and sit her on a towel, which you really hoped was washed.

“You barely drank anything, I saw you swallow a pill, your face is pale and you’ve been wrapping your arms around your stomach every now and then, plus I just know you” you explained as you brushed some hair out of her face. It felt like the blonde really needed comfort as she immediately leaned into you, her head resting on your shoulder as one of her arms wrapped around you. If she didn’t look so miserable this would be your dream. “Let’s get you home huh”

“No, it’s alright. Plus, I can’t go out like this, everybody will think that I drank too much and that would ruin my reputation” she gave you a tight lipped smile as she tried to move away from you but you were quick to pull her back.

“Would I ruin your reputation?”

“What?”

You shed off your signature jacket and wrapped it around Leightons shoulders after pulling out some gum for her. “We will just leave together and people will think we are up to other things” you explained as you ruffled your hair up a bit.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna ruin your fun and your chances with everyone else” her heart fluttered at the thought that other people might think that you’re leaving together, but she knew that you don’t feel the same and she didn’t wanna ruin your chances. What she didn’t know was that your heart fluttered just the same and the thought.

“There’s nobody as important as you, so if you’re alright with it; I’d be happy to take you home” you extended your hand to her, before fixing her mascara for a bit. Once she looked half decent you opened the door and pulled her out. You wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into you so she could hide her face in your neck.

After you said goodbye to her roommates you walked out of the house and a bit further before you loosened your arm around her waist. “Thanks” she mumbled as she pulled away a bit. You gave her a small smile and a nod as you made your way towards her dorm. “You don’t have to stay here you know? I don’t think that spending the night with an ill me is what you want” she said as she leaned against the doorframe, it was obvious that she was lacking her normal strength.

“Actually, it’s exactly how I want to spend my night” you told her as you brushed past her, pulling up your sleeves to get out a bucket and everything else the blonde might need while she still stood in the doorway and watched you. She knew that you knew where everything was, you were there often as you got along with all four of them but the way you cared for her was just something else. “Well, go on. How about you go brush your teeth while I get you some stuff and change and then we can watch a movie?” You suggested when you saw that she was still standing in the same spot.

She gave you a nod and walked off to brush her teeth with your jacket still wrapped around her while you quickly walked out to get the crackers.

15 minutes later you came back to find her sitting on her bed, a hand on her stomach. “Alright, I got some crackers, some ginger ale, pills for your stomach, water and I didn’t know if you had a hot water bottle so I thought I’d just bring mine. Here it’s already filled” you put everything except the hot water bottle down next to her. “If you need anything just tell me” you added and walked over to sit on Belas bed. The girl texted you and told you that she was sleeping over at Eric’s so you could take her bed if you wanted.

“Where are you going?” Leighton grumbled, her brows furrowed as you walked away from her.

“Bela said I could take her bed since I don’t wanna leave you alone” you explained while plugging your phone into her charger.

“You promised me a movie I believe” it wasn’t hard to figure out that she wasn’t cool with the fact that you walked away from her. So, with a small giggle you got up and gave her a sign to scoot over to make space for you.

“Well, here I am. What do you want to watch?” Her laptop was placed on your legs, Netflix already opened as you scrolled through the options you had while the blonde got settled into your side. Her head rested on your chest, one of her hands under her head while your arm was wrapped around her waist to stabilize the bottle that was pressed against her stomach.

Once you decided for a movie you could feel her starting to fall asleep, her face still pale but now adorned with dark rings under her eyes and a bit of a Fever .

It was around two to four hours later when you were awoken by a turning and tossing Leighton. The way she moved already gave you a clue of what was going to happen, so you quickly picked up the bucket and held it up, ready for her to use if she needed to. But it seemed as she woke up early enough as she jumped up and ran to the bathroom with you on her heels. “You don’t have to stay, this is disgusting”

“Shut up”

Again and again you sat on the floor next to her, caressing her back and holding her hair while she threw up. You’ve barely slept three hours the whole night, you spend more time on the bathroom floor than in the bed but as long as it helped her you were alright.

It was around 10 a.m. when you woke up again the next morning, the sound of her roommates could be heard through the wall. Leighton was still dead asleep with her body pressed against yours, but at least her fever went down over the night. Shortly after you woke up, there was a knock on the door, followed by Whitney and Kimberly opening the door. “Hey, we are going to the cafeteria, do you want us to bring you something?” They asked as they tried not to stare at the two of you too much, Leighton cuddling with someone wasn’t something they saw every day.

“Uhm” you thought for a moment, “no, thank you. I’ll let her sleep for as long as she needs to and then I’ll get something that is more stomach friendly than whatever the cafeteria is serving us” they laughed slightly before nodding and saying goodbye, leaving you and their roommate alone again. Without thinking you started to brush your fingers through her hair, trying to sooth her in her sleep. But it actually did the opposite as she slowly awoke from her slumber, her arm around you tightening a bit.

“How are you feeling?” You asked once she was kinda awake. She grumbled a bit as she sat up.

“Better, I think something from the cafeteria was bad” she explained and rubbed her eyes while still leaning against you.

“That’s great to hear. Do you wanna eat something different than crackers? I could get you something” you rubbed her back for a moment before worrying that you were overstepping any boundaries now that she wasn’t ill anymore and didnt need any comfort.

“No, thank you. I think I will stay at that” you gave her a nod and handed her a water bottle as a reminder to drink.

“If it’s alright I’ll get ready real quick. If you want, I can come back” she looked at you as you stood up and stretched a bit. She didn’t want to keep you here if you didn’t wanna be here, especially after you had to spend the whole night next to her who was throwing up.

“If you want we could finish that movie” you agreed that you’d come back after showering and getting dressed before you took off. You were happy that she wanted you to come back, it made you feel like she wanted to spend time with you.

While you were off to get ready Leightons roommates came back to find her on the couch in the common room. “Hey, it’s great to see that you’re better” Bela said as she fell onto the couch next to the blonde. But she didn’t answer or react to any of them as she just stared of into the air. “Leighton?” She asked again making the girl look at them.

“Am I Tiny Tim?” She suddenly asked confusing all of them. They were silent as they hoped that she’d explain it herself. Tiny Tim was something that they knew, especially after Kimberly and the dude next door, but they weren’t sure what she meant with it. “Am I tiny Tim to y/n now?” She clarified while playing with her hands.

“Why are you thinking that?” Kimberly asked, a comforting hand placed on her back.

“Cause last night she had to leave a party for me and then sat on the floor next to me while I threw up like six times” she explained, a frustrated look on her face.

“You threw up six times?” Bela asked disgusted, making Whitney throw her a glare.

“The way I see it, she was happy to take care of you. I mean she’d head over heels for you and I don’t think that you throwing up is going to destroy that” Whitney stated. She knew how Leighton felt about you and she could see the way you look at her, it was pure love and adoration. If the blonde throwing up was destroying all that than she didn’t believe in love anymore.

“She’s not head over heels for me” she argued, a small grin on her face as she hoped that what the football player said was true.

“Oh please, just think about the crackers” Bela argued, which confused Leighton.

“What about the crackers?”

“Dude, that girl ran or walked to the next 7/11 just to get you the crackers you liked. And that at like 1 am or whatever” Bela explained, slightly hitting her shoulder as a sign to start thinking.

Leighton was more than confused, she specifically remembered you saying that you had those at home. “No, she had them at home. She specifically told me” she said.

“Must be wrong. When Eric and I went home we met her and she came back with a bag filled with those things. She told me that they were for you” there was a moment of silence as everybody gave her a moment to Come to terms with what Bela just said.

“But why didn’t she tell me?” It didn’t make any sense to her, it was a nice thing to do. So why lie?

“Looks like you can ask her that yourself” Kimberly whispered to the blonde as she saw you enter the room again. You greeted all of them, before settling on the arm rest of the couch next to Leighton.

“How are you feeling Leigh?” You asked with a smile on your face, happy to see that she was feeling better.

“Good, thank you” she started and then looked around to get any kind of affirmation of her roomies. All of them nodded which made her take a deep breath before speaking again. “Can I talk to you real quick?” You followed her into hers and belas room.

“Why’d you lie to me?” She suddenly asked making you choke on your spot.

“What do you mean?”

“The crackers. You lied to me about them, you didn’t have them at home. Why?” She asked again, this time more serious.

“Leighton, come on” you tried to make her let it go but she was persistent which made you sigh. “You already felt bad about me staying and taking care of you, what would you have said if I told you that I ran to 7/11?” You explained, hoping that she’d now let it go but you knew Leighton to well for that.

“I would have said that you’re stupid and you shouldn’t have. I mean why would you do that?” She looked at you expectantly to make sure that you knew that she wanted an answer.

“Because I wanted to. I like taking care of you”

“Why?”

“Because I like you, you idiot, laying in bed with you, even when you’re ill and throwing up is better than any damn party. But you’re too stubborn to realize that Leighton” there was a moment of silence. You already saw yourself being kicked out of their dorm and having to change colleges so you’d never have to see them again.

But just before you were about to leave the room Leightons normal cocky smile returned. You sighed in relief, even if she didn’t feel the Same you guys would be okay.

“Take me out tomorrow and then you can lay in bed with me without me throwing up” she said making you giggle and nod.

“Can’t wait” you winked at her before opening the door causing three people to fall into the room. “I believe these belong to you” you laughed as Leighton hit her forehead with her hand.

“Can we watch the movie at yours?” She asked, a slight blush on her face just out of embarrassment. You nodded and extended your hand.

Ten minutes later you sat on the couch in your apartment, the tv playing Leightons favorite movie. You had your arm wrapped around her shoulders while she was leaning into your side. If Leighton had known that her throwing up was all it needed she would have done that forever ago.

#reader insert #brooooswriting #leighton murray x reader #renee rapp x reader #tslocg x reader

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joannasteez · 4 months

Text

stay, please

pairing: roman reigns x blackreader warning: ANGST.. smut . explicit descriptions! so minors please do not interact! word count: 10k ... now that we found love, what are we gonna do, with it? ...

all that time ago, when you'd first met him, your acknowledgement of roman was flimsy, a shell of nothing, but the simple words and pretty smiles made him run warm all the same. "my tribal chief", you'd say, airy and teasing, void of awe. he was big and strong, hubris making him this mountain of a man, but he was just that, nothing more than a man, and you'd seen enough men to know that they did not differ much. they groaned in time with their irritations, made their problems yours. lusted wild and unapologetically. they demanded everything, in their time, in their way, and gave what little that they wanted. and roman reigns, the tribal chief, was no different.

his eyes, suggestive and sharp, had taken to the fit of your ring gear easily. the shaping of the fabrics in places and in others, the lack thereof, pulling his interest till his fixations melted something warm and devious into your skin. he'd approach you wolf like, this stalking pace as if to circle prey. grinning amused. "i think you can do better than that for me. a little more enthusiasm".

and he was a tower then, still is now, strides long, full of leisure. your eyes peered from under the fan of your lashes, indulging the domineer of his presence with the coyness of good prey. you'd done well to make the game, the chase, or whatever this was for him, at least somewhat entertaining if not completely so.

you'd indulged. leaned into the mass of him, one small step forward after another till the air had no choice but to be shared between the both of you. a finger lifting to trace faint over the lettering of his shirt. and it'd taken everything not to fall then, not to give in to the pull of him, like some small wayward celestial object fighting against the orbit of a great star. the heady note of his smell, the strong comfort of his warmth, the height of him, the sure soft ways his eyes drifted over you, like he'd just known without complete expression of words or deeds that you were his.

your touch had turned more firm then, from one finger to your palm, slipping down till it played at his abs. and a grin had curled, amused now too, feeling the rushing in his blood. "i can be a whole lot better for you, you gotta earn that though".

but your words, so teasing and strong then, built firm and made off your tongue to last, were not as reliable as you'd thought they'd be, for the gravity of him was this overwhelming thing. and before the rush of it could settle, before the excitement of lust could wane, you found yourself with him at every corner or surface available. your legs wrapped in his, your lips wet and your tongue tangled, pushing and licking to taste him. your breaths caught forever, short and desperate as they fought to be full. he felt good and the heat of him melted the worry in your bones, until it didn't.

until the fun of it became dense, so much so that it was unbearable. his touch becoming more nailed into the skin of you, and his words fixing quiet, each more vulnerable than the ones before them. these heavy sinking whispers in the night, your bodies laying sated and damp, thighs aching and your blood rushing smooth just after release. arousal still sticky between your legs where his hands and mouth had been. from him came these words, forming to sound like something similar to forever. but by then it was too late, to stop, to take back, to slip away from under him.

and in the midst of fighting and failing to keep away from his body, and his quiet bed time passions, creatives of the smackdown brand championed the idea of a more feminine edge to the bloodline. someone who could rough and tough it, take a bump and bounce back for more. someone who could smile and charm and manipulate. someone who could, in the blink of an eye turn vicious if need be. a character that had draw, that could have the crowd eating from their palm. and though yes, roman was not starved of womanly support by way of the viewership, the faction was in sore need still of a lighter touch. something, or rather someone less naturally brutish, that did not wreak of ego or that larger than life self importance. and so, from a charismatic mid-carder, to the upper echelon, you rose and dominated as an entity connected to the infamous crew.

the full silver of your ring gear slowly altered to accommodate the overwhelming red and black, his colors, till there was a more even mix. and it all spoke without words, the black and red these leading lines, binding you to the one called the tribal chief.

a botched spot in the ring kept you away for some time. a few months of recovery, the perfect amount of time to go cold turkey from roman.

and though he called and texted and face timed, his constant travels and your inconsistencies left him hallow. an emptiness that soon would leave his ego to pulse with a bruising pain. he thought, in the midst of all those months of your recovery, that it was just the tingling in his fingers that he needed gone, these simple bouts of lust that could be easily remedied. but it was more than that it seemed. aches in his chest and this drawing pull in his skin. a helpless sort of longing.

he wrestled harder in those months, brutal, bordering relentless. when you wouldn't answer at all, or would only answer with few words, he pushed the fire of his anger, drove it through muscle and nerve, about the bones that built him till it was all he could feel.

why the fuck were you dodging him?

and all that fire, that white hot anger, attempting to purge his bones of you, flared and burst wild till it could no longer. flared to consume him till it proved shallow and here you were, under his eyes again. the silver-red-black of your ring gear calling his fingers to run against it, the tips where his nerves live itching to flex and curl into your skin. the curve in there where your hip dips, the muscles in him remembering well as the feelings there form back to life with excitement.

you look as good as you did pre-injury. maybe even a little better.

he makes himself known, the tone of him rich, stunning. something dark amidst the allure. you'd forgotten how well it arrested you.

"hows your arm?"

"bendable, so it's fine".

you do little to acknowledge him, afraid of what even a little eye contact can do to the strength of already weak resolve, but you move your newly healed arm about rather flimsily, showing him just enough so he can go about his business.

the carpet ruffles with his every step. closer and closer he gets. your heart knocking into your chest. "recovery must've been good, should've been", his breath warm and feathering along your neck. your fingers moving with a slight shake as you make to clean an already clean vanity. "had to have been", his fingers taking a small trace over your shoulders to hold you there, "cause i barely heard a thing from you". his thumbs sooth into the fabric, soft and remembering.

your breath hitches, the tip of his nose running small at the line of your neck. and none of those months of recovery mean anything in the slightest, save for the healing of your arm. your pulse quickens and beats harsh, same as it did before, skin taking to a slight tremble as the warmth of him surrounds you here. and your own fingers, working to burrow into the hard shape of the vanity, itch to touch him too, though something nags at you to fight against him. to war with the resolute way his touch fastens to your body.

"i didn't realize you were my keeper".

he sighs, slightly annoyed by the way your words fight to push against his own, but it doesn't stop the straying of his lips along your skin. skimming where they please till they pull in to leave a faint kiss at your pulse. "you've been ignoring me".

"apparently not enough".

he laughs, pulls your hips close till they flush against him, and laughs some more. his mouth parting just at the shell of your ear. "you're not convincing", his fingers flexing, a firm pulling as they make their way to play between your thighs at the fabric covering where they'd itched and feened to be. "not even a little bit".

and how you'd gotten here, falling so fast back into him to be consumed, back into the deft maneuver of his fingers and the heat of his mouth, was not at all lost on you. just as similar as it was not all that lost on him either, to feel your skin and the faint release of your breaths. fighting on his own for months to undo you from him, all for nothing. both affected in full by the other, thirsty and bordering impatient. and when he curls in past the stretchy material to slip against the wet of your slit, your hips move with a mind all their own, seeking a harsher friction.

heat braces your skin, head lulling forward. your hips shifting rigid, fighting to still and losing as they chase the smooth circling of his touch. "roman", breathy. urgent.

"no, no, no, no, no", his free hand firmly at your neck. an upward motion to reveal your eyes again. "you don't run from me, not when you want it this badly". his finger slipping further to sink in knuckle deep. the push in of them lax and patient. a pace he takes to feel you throb for him. with every second, the length of it steeping in the soaked mess of you.

you gather words, a sloppy attempt to fire back at him and it fails as you moan through it. "who said i wanted this or you".

"you know what it is babygirl", the speed of his touch urged on by his ego. his need to prove you wrong. you want him, you want him and he knows it. if not for words then he knows it with how eager your hips grind into his fingers. the slip of your pussy easy and hungry as it pulses. so much so that it resounds into the dead air of the dressing room, the tune of it forcing his hips to rut into you. "you don't want it, you tell me and i stop". he breathes hot and hectic into your skin, into your neck, kissing between takes of air. fingers thick and glistening under harsh fluorescent lights as they curve in to fuck you deep. "c'mon, tell me how much you don't need it, how much you don't need me", eyes brown and blistered. of course you needed him, of fucking course you do how could you not? when he needed you. "c'mon sweetheart, tell me so i can leave". a tear struck the apple of your cheek, a simple roll that told of everything. your skin twitched and your muscles ached, ready to feel the draw out of release, but the cage of your chest rattled, flaming with a need to say something long unspoken.

but to do it, to say it, would be worse than breaking a bone. worse than the raw opening of slit skin. to give in to him, would be the end of it all.

"fuck", a whimper breaking. wrecking the strength of your voice. your hips working to rut against the curl in of his fingers. your head lulls at an angle to sink into his chest. hands free from the vanity as you grab to hold onto him. "keep it there baby, please".

"yeah?", his neck craning to take your lips with his. tongue messy and suckling. and his fingers move with vigor, arm taut and muscle bound, veins striking against his skin. something similar to lightning. "and when you come what do you say?"

your breath catches and the sharp ways of your vision blur. the coil wound up in your core bursting wild at the seams as you rut and drip against the softening thrust of roman's fingers. your lips trembling as words flow hot and feverish. "th-thankyouthankyouthankyou".

even if the body was not made to do so, you could fly high, tumble, knock into, break at, and push over just about anything in ring. it's what made the rise from the mid-card so satisfying. it's what made the star studded rivalries so well anticipated and stunning. women of a particular caliber, head to head, their bodies and their wits and their wills stressed and strained until only one remained. at it's core, the work all by it's lonesome was easy. tiresome yes, but the pursuit of winning, that bright gold belt about the waist, was all a singleminded affair. easy. but the presence of him was, is, a storm. difficult to escape. reckless. ungovernable. and it seemed that the drifting of his eyes to find you and the remnants of his touch could not be undone. like a deep soldering under your skin, at the hard make of your bones.

he lingered, and beyond the shallow 'i don't want you's', the cut of your eyes and that cold far away disposition, something like need teemed, warm and fettered to your fingers, pressing slow into his skin, the fabric of his t-shirt, slipping into his hair. just before the quiet, when ecstasy was it's loudest, he could feel it running into him like nails, 'stay', etching red and raw into his flesh. and then a soothing kiss, more passionate, wordless but tender all the same, 'stay please'.

your inconsistencies were nearly earsplitting. i want him, i won't. i need him, no i don't. it made even the prestige of the women's world championship lackluster.

you'd won, your waist decorated in gold, but the true excitement of such a grand moment could not reach you beyond the loose way liquor paints your tongue. skin racing warm and control undone. the floor moving with this deep hard shudder, bass bleeding out. the air is thick from bodies, from the unintelligible roar of people. but what is clear, beyond the blur that comes for the eyes after chilly shots of espolon, is him. roman smiling in that faithful way that he does, wolf like, suggestive. clever and telling in the way that it so clearer reminds you of how small and good you can be as prey. something for him to take. to hold and guide and pull and pry at till he’s full. but that look of allure is not for you, no he'd done something fucked. he'd gone and found someone else to look at like that, some woman near the edge of the bar too oblivious and taken by the size of him to know that it was all a game.

a game you were losing at. your lips wet from the bits of your next shot that seemed to miss your tongue. you were too loose, too hot, too lethal. it was just barely easy to play the game when it was you, denying him and tugging along that thinly wound string that tethered itself from you to him, but when he made his moves to do the same, it wrecked you well.

tore you asunder. this deep splitting at the heart till you were left raw to the open air.

'fuck him, you're the women's world champion', the espolon steeped so well into you that it speaks. 'say it', persistent. you turn from him, your head lulling as your mouth greets another shot of that smooth tequila taste. 'sayitsayitsayit'

"fuck him".

but is it believable? the harsh bite and break of words as drunk lips form around them, bound to such a severity that only comes with the pain of pain.

the harsh bass nearly breaks your ears and makes your body tremble. you would like to leave, to tear your eyes away from them, from him, but you would also like to stay.

"you play right into his hand when you do that", a mouth near your ear persists above the noise. the well fitted dress of a button up forgotten for something sloppier and indicative of the loose, dancing, club energy. cody rhodes' face just a few ways away from beet red as he holds chilly water in one hand.

and there are crueler things in the world, things that grind against the spirit till it's worn and faint, but nothing pricks against the heart more in this moment than that woman’s fingers lingering against romans. the charm of her smile luring him in as she mouths to him unrecognizable things. "he wants to spite me, let him".

cody snorts, lazily throws his arm about you. "it wouldn't be anything you've never done". and you think maybe you hate the sense of his logic and his friendship. the filterless way he says things. so forthright, so readymade.

"fuck you, wheres the loyalty".

his cheeks pull high into the creasing corner of his baby blue eyes. fully amused. he probably thinks you're a damn joke, and maybe it's true, in the petulant ways you avoid and revert inward.

he hands you the cup of water and you sip it willingly, wishing maybe though that its something else.

"he'll play cat, you'll play mouse, he'll fuck you and hint at what you fear most, you'll run and we'll be right back to where we are now. so what the fuck's up with the preamble".

you shove the cup of water into his chest, picking up one of the many shot glasses that stand still on a tray. the taste of it not so dissimilar to water. he frowns, watching on as you glare into the emptiness of the shot glass. sometimes, in these short moments, when you crave things you aim to kill, he worries.

"didn't realize all my shit was so entertaining". you look angry, sound that way even, but the melodramatic coupling of words tell him you drift more towards a sullen pain than to anger.

"no, entertainment isn't this boring", he quips and you jab your elbow into his stomach. just enough to make him grunt before the break into a fit of little laughs.

but then you set the glass down and turn in to face him, to nuzzle closer into where your forehead meets his collarbone. eyes forming with hints of a glassiness that lend themselves to vulnerability.

roman's eyes take to looking about the club, instinctively, falling against the warmth of your embrace with cody. fire forms in his chest, aches with a burning.

your voice leaves off soft into cody's ear, muffled in the fabric of his shirt. "it won't work. not in any way that matters".

"you don't know that"

"i've been played before. i'm not new to games".

cody rubs soothing into your shoulder, the compassion making you melt in that drunken way that leads to the welling of a tear.

"games aren't made to last, that's why they get played, and why people play them. if it's real then it's real".

"is this what it is now? you don't speak when you see me?"

dead air and his own words, tired in their anger. 'how long can i go, before i break?', but the break came quickly, the silence disrupting him. he rests but not really, stands there idle as if to feign the strength of a stable man but his nerves stir with ill-control. they flip and they twitch, crashing up against the inner parts of him. you won't speak, and your eyes don't meet. and when the job forces your hand, you grow cold in this subtle way. warm still but a biting chill just like at the cusp of spring. and your lips become these masters of brevity. and he wants to say it here —where his blood rushes irate, wrought by adrenaline— that he isn't too far from hating you. your skin, your touch, your voice, your face, the pull of your lips when you smile, all the things that make him lov-

"we work together, i talk to you all the time".

and even in all this, he couldn't not move closer to you. one foot in front the other till he was arms length. "promos and in-ring action aside, y'know what i mean".

you fight your own urges. to meet his eyes, to touch him, to fall beyond the bounds of those drunken whispers from nights passed where you cursed his name. "it should stay like that, professional. it's cleaner this way, safer".

he scoffs. something like a tower now the way he stands over you.

"yeah?", smirk mirthless. "and what, me fucking you out back behind an arena ain't clean? you bendin' over in a dressing room ain't safe enough anymore?" each word slightly louder than the last.

"keep you voice down", you hiss.

"or what?", his eyes sharp and narrowing. scrutiny burned into the brown of them. "everything you do is convenient for you". and his lips spread in that mirthless way again, bordering disgust. "you get scared so you pull away, you feel good again and come runnin' back. you ain't never fit me in for consideration, not once, unless it meant me sticking my dick in you".

and when blood is drawn, words like venom dripping into raw split skin, isn't it only appropriate to do the same? to do him in with the violence he so easily struck with first?

"once upon a time i didn't have to consider you", meeting him with words, cold and mocking. "i paid you fucking dust and when i did acknowledge you, you were grateful for it". vexed and thrilled, you watch the silent ways his rage manifests. the flaring in his nose and the shifting in his jaw. beneath where heaps of muscle lie, just there at his chest, falters this steady beating. a deep plunging of his ego. it makes you smile, nicks pain into your heart just the same. "maybe we should revisit that and stay there, and not be so damn emotional about it".

he recedes into something like pity. "whoever he was before me, he did a number on you".

it's this rupturing that hurts the most. the pain of it, a distant memory long remembered. this great big wound. raw and the skin so tattered still and messily undone. "you don't know me".

"exactly", roman urges. still above it all, wanting to know something. the slightest thing. anything.

you leave, slamming the dressing room door.

it was as if the spite of him, that which that'd already existed —a small, near idle thing, had reared it's head to tear through him again. seemingly more brutal than before. whether cruel or not, whether it worked or not, he'd made the effort, against his better judgement to see you bend. not to break no, but to see something other than the usual push and pull that became the mainstay of whatever this thing was between the two of you. that night at the club—his own go at drawing up some jealousy, an attempt at cracking your little shell of resistance, to see if you even cared, but still he didn't know. not for sure anyways. so here he was, needy, spiteful, and a short ways away from brutal as sweat broke from his brows and a frustrated groan from his lips. hips swinging in lethal, teeth gritting, and the core of him coiling tight.

he couldn't remember her name, no, but she was too similar to pass on. she ran just parallel enough to you that it could work. similar skin tone, the nonchalance, the coy silence of the eyes, sly slim touches that roughed into something harsh—near skin splitting. but when she spoke, the puzzle piece couldn't quite fit. her pitch too bright, not bitty enough. it didn't wreck through him the same, didn't rush in to him or thrum his blood but he couldn't complain about it, not when the chase of his release was so close. just palpable enough to satisfy.

roman took a mild shifting, hiking up a leg to leave the other bent, his foot nailing further into the hotel bed sheets, all to work his hips deeper.

her face ran into the sheets, mascara smudging dark into the clean white. "mhmm- fuck! i-", her hips fluid, rolling against the swing of roman's. words nearly undone, breaths close to finishing. "pleasepleaseplease".

she pulsed about him, hips rocking to chase the burning in her limbs, the harsh twist up of her core. and where he dug into her she fought to keep him there, soaked and clenching but it just barely came close. she hugged him for dear life, fucked on him till she couldn't take him to the hilt anymore. attempted to possess him even, with sultry moans and the allure of whispered begging. everything he liked, everything he wanted but it didn't quite fit. everything lacked by only half of a half step but it all mattered. and it was evident you made the difference.

the lazy trace of your lips, the delirium you took—even in rare bouts of aggression—the burn of your touch like a piercing in his skin. the dulling of your eyes, till they rolled overwhelmed and undone. the shivers in your skin and the submission of your body, the skin and bones of you left for him to form back together.

he missed you, and yes of course he wanted to fuck you, completely break you in that faithful way that he did in times past, where you'd rush in dainty, words like feathers, thankyouthankyouthankyou, but he also wanted to hold you. wanted to mold himself to you till he was unsure of where he ended and you began. he wanted breath stealing kisses that rolled lazy and thick. he wanted to still the shivers in your body, wanted to caress you through the burden of release and even after, he wanted to keep you there. safe in the strength of him.

and it was here, in these thoughts, where he found the feeling. the pulling in his gut strong and subduing, tugging away from the wet mess of her to release. thick ropes against her skin as he groaned.

"fuck......".

your name slipping through. unabashed and clear as day.

roman winces, feels the recoil of it in his flesh. this awkward reversion where his body fights not to cave in on itself out of embarrassment.

why the fuck would he do that?

but she's moving before he can do anything, cleaning herself till she's rid of him. and damn it, why can't he remember her name? his back flopping into the sheets, an arm thrown over his eyes. he's tired and ill feeling, somewhat ashamed.

the woman saunters in, some ways from disgust. such a beautiful man, so obviously successful, and seemingly hung up on a woman who cares less than a fuck about him. thats what she can gather anyways. her fingers helping her slip her clothes back on. she grows curious.

"who is she?"

roman looks to her, realizing just how much she doesn't look like you at all. beautiful but not you.

"what?"

her eyes roll. that small sliver of curiosity done away with as she shuffles to adjust her heels."if your'e gonna finish all over me, the least you can do is remember my name".

she makes for the bedroom door of the luxury suite, leaving roman to fall deeper into his own silence. her voice carries, sweet and mocking.

"your little nda is signed. thanks for making me come".

roman grunts in response. feeling the slight rattle of the slammed door.

from the chill of new york city winter weather, to the warmth of one of the city's many luxurious hotels, came a firm dulling of the nights mixture of cocktails and whatever other light liquor your dear friend cody rhodes had decided was good enough for you. and what a dear friend indeed, always so caring, so righteous and so fucking motherly. his every word soft and urbane — "slow down, take this water, no more of that drink"—and his every look one of knowing and pity, until his glassy blue eyes and lisp-y mouth became resolute, even when in their own drunkenness, going as far as to putting you in a car and shipping you back to where you were now, at the hotel. "you're not even having fun, go sleep", his lips pulling into a gentle pout. his arms a warm embrace till they were gone, and you were ducking sullenly into an SUV.

he was all you could think about.

...whoever he was before me, he did a number on you...

and with so little said, roman had done you in to a silent sort of suffering. this shoddily made shell of something —your heart— playing at nonchalance, completely destroyed. stripped now, naked and fearful of whatever is to follow. the possibility, whether with or without him, the unknown, left you stunned, ill even.

...should you call?... fingers itching to reach, to slip against his contact ...but would he answer?... or would he, and rightfully so, do you the quieted sort of violence you'd done to him, time and time again?... those brutal ways your lips refused to speak, and when they did their words like daggers. your eyes never meeting, and when they came upon him, they bore over him icy and displeasured. like he was a nuisance, or even worse, a stranger. and the desertion of your touch, once upon a time, when the drive of lust and adoration was new in him, seemed that it would never leave. yes, you'd understand, but fuck if it wouldn't hurt, wouldn't pierce the greater parts of you, where strength of the ego and desire lives.

but its only when the phone rings that all hesitancy of the moment breathes hard. knocks unceremoniously against free inhibitions till you're wishing for him to ignore you. maybe, right here, right now, making the effort is enough, maybe it's all you need to say ...i did it, i tried... and nothing else. your whispers rushed and a bit scared and waiting. "don't answer, don't answer don't answer".

the ringing stops. he answers.

your breathing is soft, but present, the only thing that sings amongst the silence of him. what is this? after the callousness, the hardy stones you'd thrown into the glass of his resolve in an attempt to break him.

he's tired but not really. done but not really. he sighs, fingers roughing through his beard. "yeah?"

you giggle, breathy. a bit unnerved. your words rolling off, slightly slurred still. "thought i'd get your voicemail", you wonder how he looks, if his heart threatens to beat beyond the cage of his chest the way it does yours. "didn't think you'd answer".

he's quiet. breathing. "why'd you call?"

"you sound nice". the little thats left of the tequila pouring over your tongue into words. even in his tiredness he sounded beautiful. rich and dark and alluring. "did i wake you?"

"no". but he can't help himself, in being curious, in caring. "you alright?"

"i'mfine, ijust...i-"

"you sound drunk".

"tipsy".

"how much did you have?", a question but more so a command. the authority threaded in his voice lulling you in. it makes you shiver with need. makes you want to touch him.

"mhmm idon'tknow rome". and he can hear your shifting over the sheets, as you shift over answers to give him, that would satisfy him. you wanted so badly, despite your fears, to satisfy him. "a shot, a drink or two".

"lightweight for real", he chuckles. "who were you with?"

"cody. he got my uber".

is it so bad?, when the hour is late?, to think of seeing you, even if the thought is little and fleeting and ways away from dangerous? "you here at the hotel?"

"damn", and you're laughing. giddy at the way he worries. reeling with sarcasm "you want me to share my location?"

"watch yourself".

"yes sir".

and here the air is hesitant, forming fragile and ill-informed of whats to come. it shapes about the both of you wearily and groans even in it's stillness of how ill-suited it is at holding the ambivalence of this... love, lust, longing or whatever it is twisting about the both of you. it yearns for something new, for something unweighted and free and sweet.

roman asks you again. curiosity breaking a heaviness into the weight of him. "why'd you call?"

your bed sheets pinch and ruffle between your fingers, taking on the burden of your anxieties. "i figured if i went out...i'd-i'd get a little courage yknow? a drink or two and then i could call you, could hear your voice".

"hear my voice huh?", his jaw clenching. tone one of full mocking and scrutiny. after everything, all that was said, something like venom off your tongue in a means to poison his resolve, and now you wanted to hear from him? "and all that big talk, all that mouth and bravado, paying me dust and keepin it how it used to be", smiling mirthless. "what happened to that? where'd that go?"

you shiver, cold despite the warmth of the room. "i don't know roman".

"you don't?"

"i don't wanna argue with you".

"what do you want then? tell me so i know".

"it doesn't matter", something like a grin running through your lips, sullen and wistful. formed only by the sweet safety of what if's and what could be's, because those were always easier. "you'd leave". a single tear slips against your cheek. "you'd get bored after a while and you'd leave".

...but he isn't him, whoever that other man was, or could be, the one that'd seemingly broken you...

he sighs. "you're afraid of somethin that ain't happen".

"yet", you add.

"it's not going to".

"you don't know that".

"you don't either". and of course the fight is natural, this insistent war where true desires of the heart are subdued to the will of something comfortable and simple, because love, even at its easiest, proved always to be tedious and demanding. "i don't make it a habit of getting played".

"i don't make it a habit of playin", sincerity filling him whole. "how i've felt... how i feel still, about you? it's always been real sweetheart".

another tear and then another, till your skin is warm and nerves flustered. your chest tightening as your mouth trembles. "don't fault me for being scared, please?"

"clean slate. we can start over".

"ok".

and that restless buzzing, the harsh rushing of the city — cars and trains and people— works easy to overcome the natural fall of silence. breaths passing, his and then yours, one after the other and then together, in waiting, eager but unsure.

the emptiness is unsettling. makes you restless. urges the drive in his muscles to move.

your hand splays against a pillow, fingers curling in soft, your voice even softer. "what side of the bed are you laying on?"

"left side".

you hum. imagining him. hair splayed, long and gentle. "i hate the left side".

"i know", he smiles, small like and imaginative. thinking of older memories, where your legs find themselves curling against his own.

"it's empty, my left side".

"yeah?"

"yeah".

possibility, this mighty rushing in his blood.

"whats your room number?"

there was nothing flimsy about this, the gentle pull of his lips, tongue slipping cautioned but ready all the same, his fingers and palms seemingly made to do and withstand the brute force of many things but taking the time instead to hold you dearly. to savor with his touch what his lips cannot. but when the well of patience in him fills to the brim, when it overflows and floods him unsparingly, his persistence has no choice but to do the same. and your knees threaten to buckle, threaten to kill your resolve, as he cradles your head with one hand and the other anchored firm at your jaw —thumb and pointer— his kiss growing wetter, tongue sharper. because the time away —where neither of you could do more than fight and throw stones and break and avert, gazes and words and touches and thoughts and feelings— felt like forever. and then came the standstill, the white flag. clear air and even clearer intentions, over a phone call of all things. with simple words of the heart.

roman figured if anything, he was making up for lost time. your palms taking to his beard, thumbing over his cheeks, mouth forming soft over his.

you felt good, he felt good, but not so much that it couldn't be true.

and here, where you feel the abandon of his control grow, you break from his mouth, trying and failing to grab for something on a nearby shelf. but he's faster, reaches to grab the outstretch of your arm, flying it over his shoulder. his breath warm and enticing, rushing a thrumming in your blood as he nips the skin there. teasing.

your nails take this tender clawing into his nape, dipping into silky hair. "i thought we were taking it easy?"

his words mix between the twist of his lips. "we are. your clothes are still on". kissing along your neck.

but he doesn't loom here, statuesque in his anger. doesn't suffer your resolve to threaten a breaking or diminishing to fold under the weight of a harsh truth. knowing whether or not if his words would split you raw for a vicious bout of bloodletting. no he doesn't loom here, but his standing is firm all the same. gentle minded and secure. immovable in the way that it refuses to let you go.

you wonder if jimmy and jey and solo and naomi can hear him in the pantry from where they are in the living room. hear his groaning, and the smack of his lips as he takes yours. hear his lust and his love and his longing.

you hum against him in bliss. "you make it very obvious that you want to eat me alive when you look at me like that in front of everybody".

"am i supposed to feel bad about that? because i don't".

"being lowkey goes a long way sometimes".

"yeah a little too long".

but that night had only been one of the first nights of this mending, this slow cautious maneuver of putting back together the broken pieces of whatever this thing was that had been brewing for sometime. and it isn't until you're sitting in a shared comfortable silence, sipping wine and tasting sweet deserts that the realization comes to you. that this —the sex and the passion and the strife— has only ever been a thing, something ill formed and without definite shape. uncategorized and hesitantly spoken of. it had all been rushed with hushed pleasures and secrecy, rendezvous and an inherent longing that would not, for fear of realer things, be spoken of.

but it was very clear now, as he dipped a spoon into tiramisu, that you needed him.

and the pace here is easy, as waiters and other patrons breeze by your table without rest, without wait, his eyes and his stillness forming well over the hold you have as you touch him idly. your palm at his knee, raising to take his hand in yours, fingers folding in, shy and feathered and bursting with a wordless affection.

from where you are, just a short lean in from his lips, his features are not so intimidating, not so all consuming in that daunting way he's perfected. his cheeks are freckled and round and the brown of his eyes are bright.

you kiss him, take that short lean in and meld your lips till he hums and thumbs your chin. because he isn't him if he doesn't touch you. doesn't hold fast to your warmth.

and even after you part, the intimacy laced in the air breathes slow and lingering. "thank you for being so patient with me, with everything". your fingers fiddle and caress over his. "i know i haven't made it easy for you".

"when it's something i want, i wait".

and wait he did, with a statues patience. but even the strength of statues fail, worn and weathered if left to stand against time and their own stillness. eventually they all crumble, some in such a poetic fashion that its destruction means more than its birth, and other's with a simple, unceremonious falling. but the undoing of roman's patience is fierce and alluring. and as you breathe short, in between the firm pull of his lips, water hot and raining against your skin, you feel the chipping away of that patience as well. and it isn't just the pouring in of the shower and the sweet warmth of soaps and candles, but the influence of him as well, melting underneath flesh and bone.

6:17 PM

the steam forms something amorous. thickens the anticipation and lulls your resolve into a surrendering. and the tight feeding of his fingers into your thigh doesn't help any, nailing sharp and greedy as they have your leg hooked about his waist, his tongue licking against yours. and here in the kiss his lust grows slow and exacting, in a means to savor. making you moan and forcing your hips to grind mindless. his body hard and wet and safe.

your fingers curl into the hair just at his nape, tugging to pull, to break his lips from yours, but he's fast and wanting, rushing in for another sweet assailment. groaning in time with his pleasures as his hips rut at your soft skin. you try again to break from him, to breathe even if the air suffocates you so, and he gives in. settles for fastening himself to you elsewhere, to supple skin, and to grinding his hard dick at you. his mouth roaming about your neck, nipping with his teeth and kissing gentle. a meager attempt to reigning himself in.

your touch wanders further into his soaked hair, mouth moving to trace his, to tease him. "we have a reservation for 9", you kiss him lightly. "i don't wanna be late".

he hums, rests his forehead to yours. taut fingers working your hips to a slow grind against his dick. working what nerves lay dormant in you to life.

"the restaurant is a 30 minute drive", his nose and mouth nestling into the plains of skin where your neck ends and your shoulder begins. drinking in the small breaking off of your moans. "plenty of time".

7:29 PM

and the minutes wandered away fast and teasing, forcing in an urgency as you fought hard to slip away from him and the heaviness of his desires. and it took much control, to part from his warmth and the heavy lust of his eyes. from the way his touch and his mouth maneuvered —with seductive method— and the heat of his cock laying at your skin, so terribly close to where you need him. but how odd the fear is here, after the pulling away of all that nasty pettiness and the settling of it, no longer scared of how much he would love you, or how well he could etch himself to the inside of you —with touches and deep words filled with passion— but now, weary of just how unbearable you would be. because it seemed now that he was stuck with you, and that if he would continue his affections with such an intensity, that you would have no choice but to return it. and even in this, your fears, your weariness of this love and lust and longing, were not so frightening at all. but exciting.

you're excited.

"tie or no tie?"

the bulk of his arm, where tattoos paint the skin, slip through a white button up. fingers deft as they take the time to do in each button.

"no tie".

your hands soothing over your skin with a warm smelling body butter. eyes trailing to his as he watches your hands work over your skin.

"and the jacket, yes? no?"

"yes to the jacket", but your answer barely registers, and how could it possibly do so clearly enough when the fabrics of your underwear form over your body the way that it does. everything about you soft and inviting to the touch as you approach him. your fingers undoing the top most buttons. the intricate designs of tattoos here at the curve of his pec peaking through. "and just leave this open a little". your palms smoothening away at the rest of his shirt, over his shoulders to adjust the already adjusted collar, fingers slipping against already buttoned buttons, and when the smallest wrinkle catches your eyes, you're already flattening it to straighten. and here he takes you in, arresting with silence and a never ending depth to his eyes that leaves you without words.

his mouth close enough, breaths are shared. and there is no other word to describe the scent of him other than divine.

you want to fall into him, as free as air and without hesitation.

his lips smile. "you're staring".

but it is justified, because shouldn't all beautiful things be looked upon with awe and a speechless sort of appreciation? shouldn't they be touched, the way you touch him, your palms possessing him to hold as you kiss him greedily and without wait. your tongue lashing through firm and without the mind to yield. moaning gentle into him and if not for his own strength he would fall to his knees. is this not how beautiful things should be treated? should they not be adored and reverenced? should he not pry at your skin the way that he does? dull nails sinking in to remember the forms they take as they go. your leg found slipping around his waist again as his fingers move swiftly to claw their way down till your panties push away helpless.

and he groans, lips parting only to find yours again, finding you warm and wet as his touch slips through the mess of your slit. and he wonders how long you've been like this, stewing in your own desires. his blood rushing hot and fast, feeling the heavy throb your body takes as he plays a teasing touch at your opening. something whiny and dainty tumbling off your tongue as you fight to reign in that wild burst of lust so loosely falling off your skin.

"roman", you warn. so small it nears a whisper.

"shhhh, relax", his finger dipping in to feel the heat of your pussy. a neediness to see you break bursting in the cage of his chest, his heart hammering at the sweet daze in your eyes. "just a little bit baby".

"we're gonna be late". you fight.

and you want to say how much you hate him, how much you hate the ease of his touch—such a terrible gentleness— and you hate how it makes you swoon, and throb harder, feeling the depth of his artful handlings. you fucking hate it, hate him, fuck, and your breath labors harsher than before, feeling the seam of his lips as they sit to hover above yours, and shit, his fingers stroking firmer than before, a slighter urgency in the pace that catches your breath and his eyes dim low but they hypnotize you, and no you don't, but, well yes you do hate him, but you don't, a moan stretching in sync from him and from you, and damnit you love him. love his touch and the proof of his lust, how naturally it is born from his love and his longings.

he can see the prickling in your eyes, the glassiness just before the burning brown of them. and you ruffle your face into his chest, into the balminess of his skin but he does not relent. and the sound your arousal makes as it coats his long fingers is lewd but it brushes over you warm and inviting. drives your waist to grind into his every stroke till release is sweet and so close.

the undoing is palpable, a licking flame against the skin. short tremors starting in your legs as you call to him. little whispers that beg, "please...please...please", hushed and slurred.

and just when it's there, it isn't, his fingers slipping out of you slow, wet still and gripping your ass to stop the mindless grinding your hips take.

"roman, no, what are you-", his lips kissing yours to stop the words and the worry. but he's kilt weeks, hell, months of such a lengthy build up, and your body rushes confused and unsatisfied. you pull from him, just enough to speak, feeling his palm caress into where he holds you. "what are you doing?"

"its almost eight", his body forsaking yours to step out of the bedroom. "need you to clean up and finish getting ready".

8:18

at your wrist

at the bend of your inner knees, your elbows

the skin of your neck just behind your ears

and just where your ankles roll inward.

his dress shoes click back into the bedroom to be met with an immediate assailment. but this violence is no violence at all, but rather a sweet, sultry thing. enticing. and he holds his wrist forward to check the time. 8:20. fuck the reservation, he thinks, stepping till he's behind you. eyes peering through the mirror, watching the delicate way you curl a thin brush over your eyelashes. a dark mascara that thickens and pulls the length and when you check the fruits of such minuscule labor, beautiful and satisfied, the crotch of his pants prove too thin, and uncomfortable. and as he dips his nose into your neck and molds his fingers to your hips, flushing you against him easy, you work into your nerves an air of dispassion. cleaning the dresser of miscellaneous things, fighting the urge to let him do whatever he wants with you.

and here, just behind your ear, the perfume proves to be intoxicating. his grip nailing in, curling to bring you impossibly closer. but his eyes never break. they hold, piercing hot and mischievous through the mirror.

in the silence you both suspend, weighing the importance of your plans.

he nestles into you. the fabric of your dress raising as his fingers pull.

and his voice makes you weak. thrums your blood.

"how important is this dress?".

"important enough", you hold against the balling his fist takes. "i paid money for it".

roman eases to his knees. undoes the neat knot he's made of his hair. he knows just how much you adore the feel of it. he pushes the fabric to rest above the curve of your hips. taps your right leg.

you lift it, angling it to rest your knee on the dresser. breathing labored. excited.

his own breath is warm at your skin, "and if we miss the reservation?" the sweet spice of your perfume meets him here too. his thumbs spreading you in a leisure manner.

anticipation consumes you. voice ragged. "it's not important".

he hums, delighted, his tongue lapping soft. testing and teasing. and your body leans forward, sensitive and longing, hips shifting away at such an intimate touch. but he holds firm, slipping wet through your slit again, continuously, his thumbs caressing where his grip tightens into your skin. and now that he's here, his patience to leave you undone forms new. bleeds a vigor about his every muscle and bone. your senses growing pliant above him, resolve melting as your hips shift to brush along the wet sweep of his tongue. and why he takes to such a leisure pace, you have no idea, but the pleasure simmering, fighting its way up the slope of your spine, grieves. wishing for something harsher. something less controlled.

the silence is remedied with a tender "please". teeth taking your lips to bite.

his mouth kissing, lingering, and you feel it spread. a smile. his mischief slipping into your skin before the inevitable pulling in, your clit caught, pulsing and needy as he sucks, thirsty and unstopping. and you feel arousal drip slow, glistening, his tongue catching it to savor. throat groaning as he shifts back forward to taste the fat of your clit. and though you stand above him, your hips shift ill-controlled and your voice leaves you soft and broken. belly coiling tight as his ministrations grow more singleminded by the second.

the nails of your fingers find their way to the roots of his hair, pulling him closer and running to soothe into his scalp. jaw dropped and gasping."feels so good baby".

and the slip of roman's tongue is lewd, caresses the swell of your clit as his mouth works your pussy. and as desperation mounts your bones, your other set of fingers tighten to hold against the dresser, arousal dripping its way past the onslaught of his mouth to run through his beard. the pricks of the hair there, rubbing your inner thighs to burn raw.

he grunts. "fuck", muffled and heated. dipping his tongue through till he's caressing the warmth of your walls. slow and reverential, savoring the tight clutch that holds him there.

white heat blankets your skin, fingers slipping to nestle through your slit, laying a dulcet touch to your clit. his tongue wide and gentle as it fucks you. and the sensation there is terribly sweet, solders hot and binding till your legs begin to tremble above him.

"roman", you call for him. tender and broken. he feels a blooming in his chest. heat and an eagerness. " 'm coming".

and the burden of that mounting coil shatters. pulses hard as you ride the sensation, fingers rubbing over the mess of your clit. thumb catching the soft nub to press against your pointer, trapping it to prolong that rich thrumming that flows about your skin. and roman takes to kissing you again, licking his tongue through the messiness of your release and kissing over your fingers.

8:50. the dinner reservation long forgotten.

but there are many other things forgotten besides white table cloth, wine glasses and intimately lit candles. the once so perfect button up he'd tucked into expensive slacks, now strewn about the floor, creased to hell next to the shine of abandoned shoes. and with all these things, left to be unremembered, is that mischievous sort of patience born from his teasing. where his touch was once salacious and mocking, unforgiving in the way it played well and denied pleasure better, is now just a filled shell of desperation. need running like flares of wild fire. and it shows here, as you sit atop the dresser, legs wrapped about him, the way roman aches and throbs, hot and demanding. cock thick and hard, reddened and leaking as he slips it through the stickiness of your slit.

his tongue growing sloppy, drunkly slipping over yours, pushing in the taste he'd savored so dearly. his skin teeming with a rushing, this great throbbing in his spine and the muscles in his core as he nestles the tip of his dick through the tight clutch of your heat. groaning in time with his pleasures as he sinks in, corralling your thighs forward to control the pacing, and deeper he goes till you're taking him to the hilt. the build of him seeming to crumble before your eyes, this mountain of a man trembling and undone by the warmth of you. delirium coursing fluid over bones as he stills to feel the softness and the pulsing. everything he'd missed, finally at his finger tips again.

and if not for the pain and the violence of it, you'd pull your nails through him. over taut skin and the great build of his muscles. not in a means to destroy, no, but in the hopes to consume him. a more permanent etching beneath his flesh where blood flows, just as he's done to you.

you hiss, breaths stuttered. mouth falling where the freckles at his cheeks live, balmy and heavy, attempting to find his mouth amongst the fall of his hair. to kiss him as he stretches you to take him. your fingers combing over the strays and flyaways, roughing your legs tighter to deepen the weight of him inside you.

you moan. something feathery and gentle. the fullness of him threatening to split your ears. and when his hips slip forward, fluid and strong, your fist knocks against the marble of the dresser. pain in your hand turning to pleasure else where.

"mhmgmh", his groan dark, feeling it rough up your body. and the carved marble of the dresser becomes more tainted by the second, the drag of him against the pulse and flutter of your heat so terribly charming. a soothing take to your pussy thats rigid enough to leave you breathless. and when your spine curls forward, head lulling to kiss the mirror, he leads with tongue to kiss your skin. "that's it right there huh?", but he needs no answer. pure evidence here, his dick rutting forward through the mess of you.

"yesss", stressed and drawn out.

the gentle pull of you, flexing wet and tight, a cureless addiction. his words slightly slurred, lips at your cheek, trailing to your neck, over your shoulder, plush and kiss swollen. "so soft babygirl". the draw in of him singleminded, throbbing and rutting. groaning as dazed eyes catch the feed in of his cock, a deep burying that shudders his skin. "love when you let me touch you like this", driving his fingers to form further up over your hips, dull nails curling at your back. "when you let me fuck you good", his hips pressing in as he stills, grinding slow, for you to feel him there, where he belongs. "how you need it".

you cry, a tear staining your cheek. the tremble of your lips forming over his as you kiss him. body molding to him, the go of his thrusts mindful as they work to fill you. and here, he slips in easy, steady still but with a gentler purpose. and his fingers, even in their dullness, don't run as brutal and the deftness of him proves with a tender rocking of his hips. arousal soaking him sweet as it sounds above the silence.

and the shock of everything takes hold. the ways you fought so terribly against him, to suffer in what you thought would be some less harsher fate than to live lovingly with him.

your voice stretches out delicately. into the safety of him. "don't leave me", quivering as you feel the building pressure in your body. "stay please".

"not going anywhere sweetheart", a hand at your cheek, thumb caressing there, "i'm right here", and the other pulling you impossibly closer by the thigh. lips over yours, sharing breaths. "you feel me? i'm right here", words whispered and groaning, the stroke of him deep and easy still.

and as he'd wanted since the beginning, your resolve crumbles as he holds you in his hands.

your heart heavy. fearful, excited. "....love you....", trembling as you come undone. "i love you".

he twitches, releasing thick and warm in you. pulling your lips in, passionate and relieved, tongue rolling to taste the words he'd waited to hear from forever ago, when everything about your attitude towards him was flimsy and hollow. and the bursting in his chest is undeniable, a smile slipping across his lips as the heat of the air sits easy about the both of you.

he kisses you again, lingering, with love and lust and longing.

"i love you too".

295 notes · View notes

river13245 · 27 days

Text

All I Wanted Was You

Warnings: ANGST, Rick being an ass, CHEATING, Daryl being protective and Negan being an ass and flirting at wrong times.

Series maybe (pt 1)

Rick had always been a man who usually knew what he wanted. It was part of the reason he was the leader of your group. He always took charge and made big desisious after thinking about it long and hard. It was something you admired about him.

It was one of the many things that made you fall for the man. The way he lead everyone through all the troubles that had came your way. How he cared for Carl and Judith and always made sure people were okay. Its was admirable how he cared for people.

In fact there was a time when he was sure of you. He had developed feelings for you many years ago and he was very sure that he wanted you. So when the two of you finally got together it was amazing. As amazing anything could be in the apocalypse. He would fall asleep next to you and you even woke up with him in bed. Some days he would be up early and heading to go do things he had to do. But on the days when he would sleep in late, with only the sheet covering your bodies. Those were the days you really just let yourself pretend there were no walkers. Just the two of you and your family happy and safe.

With the both of you being a couple, it was something people could tell if they paid attention. Either holding hands or taking care of eachother. When shit went down he would always try to protect you, or look for each other afterwards. You would do the same for him. People just knew.

However that all slowly began to change after about two years into the relationship. At first you kept making excuses for him. Saying it was because she was new and he had to make sure she wasn't a threat to anyone. That he had to show her around. Help her train and make sure she knew the rules and everything.

It started the day that Michonne joined the group. At first Rick was still right beside you the whole time. A bit weary of her because he didnt know her and she was new. He didnt want to make the wrong decision but he ultamitaly decided to let her stay.

You and the group were a bit hesistant at first. But when she slowly began to help people with things around town. Everyone started to get along better, letting her feel welcome. You even went out of your way to talk to her and invite her on small trips.

Everything was fine, or so you thought. But after a while Rick started to become distant. He would wake up in the morning and instead of staying in bed and wrap his arm around you. He now gets up and throws clothes on and barely even kisses you goodbye.

There was one morning when you had wanted to spend some time with him. Make the both of you some food before starting the day but he had decided to take a quick shower and start heading out. You were trying to have a conversation with him but he was giving you rushed answers as he put on his boots.

You walked up to him and grabbed ahold of his arm and made him look at you. "Rick what is going on. Why are you in such a rush?" you asked and he looked at you "Just have to go on a run with michonne and Daryl. We gotta try to find more weapons"

He seemed to be telling the truth so instead of starting what you knew would be an argument you nod. "Alright I love you" and with that he begins to walk out the door saying "love you" and that's only one of the things that makes your chest hurt. He always said "i love you too" never just two words. The other thing was that he didn't even look at you when he said it and left without a kiss or anything.

This wasn't the Rick you agreed to be with. But maybe he was just going through things he couldn't talk about. All you knew was that he is the man you want, you've been in love with him for years. Carl even liked you and that took a bit of work because he wasn't a big fan of opening up right away But you two were close now.

-----

It had been five months since Michonne had entered the group. You hadn't seen much of her but you haven't seen much of Rick either. Deciding to spend time with Maggie or Dary to fill your time. Maggie had been your best friend since before the outbreak happened. Both of you adjusting to this new life. She was even your number one supporter when you and Rick had gotten together.

The both of you had been on patrol just making sure no walkers were coming. It was a slow day so the both of you were talking for a while and she could sense that something was wrong. "okay what is going on? You're being off"

A sigh escapes you and you begin to vent. Telling her about how rick has been acting and about the fact that he's almost always out. And when he's not he comes back and he is quiet. Nothing like the man you fell in love with. Even Maggie is confused because that is weird behavior from him.

But then you go and try to defend him. "But I know he's been working a lot. He goes out on runs alot with Daryl and Michonne and comes back just really tired"

As if you had summoned him. Daryl comes around the corner looking sweaty, probably just coming back from hunting. "what about me?" he asks and so you say "You and Rick have been going out on runs a lot with Michonne"

He looks confused and shakes his head "No I haven't. Only runs I go on, im alone or with Carol" Now its your turn to look confused "what do you mean? Are you trying to tell me that Rick has been alone with Michonne for months now.?"

Maggie grabs ahold of your hand and you scoff and stand straight up. Brushing yourself off "I am so sick and tired of this. I thought he liked me...well loved me. He wanted ME before she came along. But that's just life right, there always is another person someway somehow"

Daryl looks guilty even when he has done nothing wrong. Maggie pulls you into a hug while Daryl rests his hand on your back. You don't cry but you just stand there for a moment before pulling away. "Daryl i'm going to go on the trip you all are taking. I'm going to go kill Negan with you all"

Maggie nods and Daryl smiles "alright. Go get some sleep cause we are leaving tomorrow" you nod and walk back home and once again you go to sleep alone. Rick was gone when you woke up which is probably best since he didn't want you to go on the trip with everyone. But you are anyways.

You end up getting ready, putting on a thick shirt and made sure to have a bag and some supplies with you. Weapons were always around you so you made sure they were loaded before making yourself a quick breakfast. You were in the middle of eating when you hear a knock. "come in" you say and in comes Daryl.

"we gotta go. You're riding with me on the bike" he says and you nod. He always seemed to know exactly what you wanted. Just knowing you don't want to be near anyone besides him and Maggie right now. So when you guys walk to everyone , he gets on the bike before holding out his hand and helping you get on.

Once you guys are on and ready is when Rick walks to the group. He gives his pep talk, one that you weren't listening to at all. Your hand still in Daryl's squeezing it. Rick looks around and notices you and he gives you a look basically asking what the hell you were doing. But you look away from him and tell Daryl to start the bike.

Everyone leaves and some go separate ways. You were always with Daryl, he seems to want to keep you as close as possible to protect you. The both of you talk during the ride because its how you cope with nerves. By physical touch or cracking jokes. So he just listens and laughs at some of the things you say.

When the two of you get there Rick tries to talk to Negan. He walks out and they walk up to each other. You were beside Daryl who has a hand on your arm. Rick and Negan are arguing and having a contest on whose dick is bigger. (not really) but it's what they are acting like. Seeing who will make the first move, however when Negan turns and looks at you he smirks.

You had only ever seen this man one other time and that was when he killed Glenn. However he seemed to recognize you and he runs his tongue across his teeth and smirks. "well well well. I see you brought me a little surprize. Why don't you come on out darling"

Daryl grips onto you but you turn to place your hand on his chest. "its okay Daryl. Let me do what I've gotta do. I've gotta get you all out of this, no matter what I have to do" He gives you a look as you pull out of his hold and walk out into the open.

Rick looks at you "what the hell are you doing?"

Walking up closer but giving space so your farthest away from rick as you can be. "Doing what I have to" you say with a monotone voice. This earns a chuckle from Negan "woah Lovebirds aren't singing this time. Trouble in paradise?"

This makes you and Rick both look at him. Negan holds up his hand in mock surrender. "look just let them go. Most of these people have families to get back too"

At your words one of Negan's followers holds up the gun and aims it at you. You freeze in your spot but you don't look scared, in fact the only one who reacts is Daryl. He starts to walk in front of you but Rick holds his hand out to silently tell him to stop. Rick doesn't even look phased and thats what causes your chest to ache.

Negan had quickly looked at the man who was aiming at you and said "now we don't go around shooting people who hasn't really done anything to deserve it. Especially such a pretty one" The man lowers it and you seem to be able to breathe a bit more but he aims it at Rick now and that's when you stand in front of him. Shielding him from the bullet if they were to shoot.

You look straight at negan "Look enough with this fake flattery. It will get you no where with me. If you want to get anywhere with me, you will let them go. Rick has a family to get back too, Daryl he has Carol, Everyone has someone waiting for them, especially kids." you pause to breath for a second before deciding your next choice of words. "haven't you ever had a child or someone you cared about. That you would do anything to get back home too."

A muscle in Negan's face tenses and you already know the answer. "then let them go. I'm sure your a reasonable man when you want to be" you try to flatter him just a little before he speaks "And what about you huh? What do you have back there waiting for you?"

He steps closer to you which makes you look up at him. Not backing down from whatever he was trying to do. Which was intimidate you. "Absolutely nothing. What do you have waiting for you? Just a bunch of people who follow you cause they are scared of you. Does anyone really hope and pray that you come back?"

Negan grips your jaw which makes you wince but you remain eye contact. You knew you struck a nerve and that was the point. "You better watch how you speak to me. I may not have someone hoping that I come back, but it seems to me like you also have no one. Not even the man you love seems to be worried about you"

Now he had hit a nerve and you grip onto his leather jacket and pulled up away from you. Just enough so that you could swing at him. Your fist hits hit jaw and he chuckles at that. "don't ever speak to me about what I do or don't have. That is none of your business"

Instead of negan retaliating from you hitting him. Instead he grabs your arm and pull you close to him. Then he looks out at everyone saying loudly "we will let them go. Go back to their people, but i'm not going empty handed" His grip on you tightens and you groan. "ill be taking y/n. Back with me so now I have two of your people"

Negan looks down at you and you glare up at him. Obviously not happy with the arrangement but you knew how this was going to go. Before you stepped out of alexandria. The first time you met Negan he had seemed fascinated by you. In fact you had yelled at him in front of everyone and even killed one of his people after he killed Glenn. And when he didn't kill you on the spot. That's when you knew he wouldn't.

However when Eugene had left and joined their group. Is when you made your own plan, you would get on the inside too. Fuck some shit up on the downlow. Eugene had been your best friend, the both of you being inseparable and when he left is when you knew you had to go through with the plan. And here you were.

So when Negan looks down at you and asks "Who are you?" Everyone knew what he wanted the answer to be. Maggie gasps and everyone's eyes are on you, Even Ricks. If this is what you had to do to get his attention, you didn't want it. Taking a deep breath before saying "Im Negan"

This is when everyone was aloud to react. Negan loved a crowd reaction, he loved the attention. Especially when he got what he wanted. Daryl tried to grab you but Rick pulled him away "what do ya think yer doin" he asks and you look over at him. Tears threatening to fill your eyes but you look at Rick.

He looks confused and a little disappointed. There was no love in his expression, their hasn't been for months now and so you looked back at Daryl. Who looked pissed and hurt and something else you couldn't quite place. Maybe desperation. "Im doing what's best"

When Rick had finally gotten Daryl inside a car and he stopped fighting. He runs to Michonne, his hands on her shoulders and arms. Checking for any bruises or wounds and when she reassures him shes unharmed. You can visibly see the sigh of relief he has, as he pulls her to him holding her close.

That is what you had been missing for months. Thats whats been missing in his eyes when he looked at you. Now you knew why, Its because hes been giving all of his love to her.

You must have looked as awful as you were feeling because Negan places his arm around you. At first you think he's going to flirt or joke around but he actually just pulls you to him and begins to walk the both of you back inside. He doesn't say anything, for the first time he has nothing to say.

#river13245 #angst #male reader #gn reader #the walking dead fanfic #negan smith x male reader #negan smith x gn!reader #Rick grimes x male reader #rick grimes x gn!reader #Daryl dixon x male reader #Daryl dixon x gn!reader #Michonne grimes #maggie greene

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