#i feel like i may have finally become the latter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

euovennia · 1 year

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oh oh - and if it’s not too much trouble to ask, an addition to mom/dad friend simon, maybe another hc where reader takes a bullet for him and he’s like "why would you do that" and she’s all like "because your my friend" and he’s like "🥹" rubbing my hands together deviously

so for anyone new, this post is a continuation of this request, but it can be read as a stand alone if you so choose! i will say simon may be a bit ooc but you've already been besties forever so it's fine. thank you to the anon who requested this, i hope i did it justice. now please, enjoy <3

so by this point it's become well established that you and simon are pretty much a package deal

one can never be seen without the other trailing too far behind

unless of course one of you (usually simon) is actually trying to do their job

but even then you both have a tendency to hover

well

the hovering is usually done by simon who will take it upon himself to sit somewhere in the same room as you while you work

but you're more direct in your approach

which basically means you have no hesitation in pulling up a chair and talking his ear off

depending on his mood/what he's working on he'll either slide something your way in hopes of distracting you into silence or he'll take part in your mindless chatter

it's usually the latter much to the annoyance of price whose come to notice that simon tends to submit his mission reports just a tad later than normal when you're around

but he doesn't dare say anything because he's just happy simon finally has someone to keep him company

even if it does mean him missing a deadline here and there

now with the amount of time you two spend around one another, there was the small concern that you two may become a bit more reckless on missions together

but honestly?

that couldn't have been farther from the truth

as much as you like messing around with simon, you're very aware that your line of work requires your full attention

so, despite how hard it can be at times, you limit your jokes and general shenanigans to the bare minimum so you can get the job done

and obviously it goes without saying that he does the same by shedding the name simon riley and becoming the infamous ghost

it was a bit startling for the team to witness this change at first

they honestly thought you two were mad at each other

but after the mission was said and done, you and simon started hanging out again and it just kinda clicked

simon probably uses you as an example to soap to be honest

anyway, point is

you both know how to keep your friendship out of the way in the field, you've practically mastered the art of it

but the moment you see him get into a knife fight with an enemy soldier on a mission, you can't help but worry

and you can't help the way your worry morphs into panic as you see a tiny red dot plant itself on his body as he finally drives his knife into the neck of the rival soldier

and you certainly can't help the way your feet seemingly begin to move on their own as you sprint toward ghost and practically ram him into the ground

and you most definitely can't help the yelp of pain that drops from your lips as you feel a searing hot pain rip through your lower abdomen

so much for those bullet proof vests

simon looks up from his position on the ground, knife in hand and ready to stab it into the poor soul dumb enough to tackle him like this

but then he sees you

he sees your face, eyes wide with shock and mouth agape

his eyes trail down your body and he swears his world nearly crashes as he stares at the dark red spot currently staining your shirt

he can only fear the faint sound of yet another gun going off before you're tumbling onto the ground

he snaps out of his daze to catch you and he can't help but feel horrified upon seeing another bullet wound lodged into your thigh

he can hold in his cry of agony and heartbreak as your breathing soon becomes labored and your eyes fill with tears

he gives your struggling form a once over before sucking in a sharp breath and dragging you to a nearby hill that was littered with enough rocks and boulders to offer shelter from the incoming storm of bullets

he settles your head onto his lap as he harshly barks out words you can't even begin to understand through the comms

you can barely register the way his hand gives your face a small smack

your eyes connect as he pulls a roll of gauze from his tactical backpack, "come on, kid. don't do this to me. just a bit longer."

even with the searing hot pain that was overruling all your other senses, you can't help but smile

you grab onto his inked forearm and he stops as he looks back at you, eyes wild and frantic

"hey simon?"

"what?"

"thanks for putting up with me."

your eyes begin to flutter open, a small hiss of discomfort escaping your mouth as you cringe at the bright overhead lights

you make a move to bring a hand up in front of your eyes to shield yourself form the harsh fluorescents, but stop your movements when the lights suddenly begin to dim

confused, you begin to look around the room only to see simon standing by a wooden door with his hand on what you assumed to be a light dimmer

he stares at you through the eye holes of his balaclava, "better?"

you offer him a nod paired with a small smile and open your mouth to offer your thanks but stop when he puts the lights back up to their full brightness causing you to let out a groan

you open your mouth once more to vocalize your complaints and throw a half-hearted insult his way, but stop when you hear the heavy footfall of simon's boots making their way over to your hospital bed

he comes to a stop by your bedside as he glares down at you, a swirl of emotions darkening his already hardened gaze

after giving your eyes a few moments to adjust he speaks, "you're the stupidest person i've ever fuckin' met."

your eyes widen as your jaw goes slack, "excuse me?"

he leans down and stops just a few inches short of your face, "i said you're stupid and i'd yank you off the field myself if i could."

you can feel your heart drop at his harsh tone but decide to soldier on, "you're in a good mood today, aren't ya?"

his eyes narrow and a growl of anger and frustration escape the lips hidden by his mask, "don't give me any of that shit, you know what you did."

you sigh, "i'm in a hospital bed, simon. i don't think i could've done any–"

you don't even get to finish your sentence before he's interrupting you, "why'd you do it?"

you stare up at him, confusion and annoyance evident on your face

"simon, what are y–"

he scoffs, "the fucking bullet! you took the fucking bullet! why'd you do that? what made you think that was a bloody good idea? do you have any fucking clue what you put this team – what you put me through?"

right

your expression melts into one of sheepishness as you attempt to get in a word, but stop when simon decides to continue

"i had the situation handled, i could've taken care of myself! i'm smart, i'm capable, and i have years more experience than you do so tell me, i can handle myself! i don't need you steppin' in and throwin' yourself in front of bullets! you coulda fuckin' died!"

"simon–"

he points a finger in your face as he continues on with his rant, "no, you don't get to call me that, not anymore. from here on out, you either address me as ghost or lieutenant, nothing else until you can learn how to handle yourself on the field. we need soldiers, not daredevils. do you understand?"

you exhale, "no."

before he can continue with his angry tangent you sit up with a painful grimace and grab the pillow the pillow your head once rested upon and fling it at him

he narrowly dodges it and stares at you with a mix of rage and pure disbelief with a glare that practically screamed, "what the fuck."

hit block limit again. i'm afraid this may become a habit. anyway.

taking his silence as your cue to speak, you do just that, "okay fine, you're right. i probably shouldn't have tackled you down like that and taken a bullet for you, i probably should've remembered that you're a fully capable man with more experience than me, and i probably should've remembered that the field is no place to be playing favorites. you're right, i should've kept that all in mind but–"

you let out a small sigh as you avert your eyes to the think blanket draped over your body, "when i saw that gun pointed right at you i...i couldn't bring myself to care about any of that. at that moment, all i saw was you in danger and i couldn't have that so i did what i did. you can reprimand and punish me all you want for doing it, but i don't care. i stand by my actions."

simon eyes you for a few moments longer before grabbing onto a chair nearby and settling it beside your bed

you watch as he sits down with a small sigh, his eyes never leaving yours

"why?"

your brows knit together in confusion

"why what?"

"why'd you take a bullet–no, why'd you take two bullets for me? you and everyone else on this team know i could've handled it, so why?"

you frown, "because you're my friend, simon. why else?"

once those words leave your mouth, you're greeted with his blank ghost stare

again, he's just 👁️👁️

and you feel a small wave of concern wash over you

this is the same man who was torturing you with the bright fluorescent lights and lecturing you to hell just a few minutes ago and now he's just staring at you

still and silent as ever

you almost ask if he's okay, but stop yourself when he brings his large hand up to the edge of your hospital bed and begins inching it closer to yours before eventually resting it over yours

it's quiet for a few moments longer before he speaks in one of the quietest voices you've ever heard from him, "you took that bullet cause i'm your friend?"

you can't help but soften your own voice as you respond, "my best friend."

upon hearing you say that, simon can just feel the small well of tears that begin building up in his eyes

and as much as he wants to fight them off, he just can't

you, already being able to sense the internal war he's got going on inside his head, simply turn your hand so you can grip onto his and give it a firm squeeze

and by god he hates you for that

because now he can't help but disconnect your hands in favor of surging forward and wrapping his arms around you

you swear you can feel the small rumble of his shoulders as he tries and fails to conceal his quiet sniffles but you decide to overlook it because oh my god simon 'ghost' riley is crying in your arms and it's all your fault

so you decide it's best to just hold onto him as tight as you possibly can

he notices this and he just melts

what did he do to deserve you?

what overpowering force of life felt that he was good enough for the sunshine that is you?

who gave him the honor of being blessed with you?

he's not sure but quite frankly, he doesn't really care

not when you're holding onto him like your life depends on it

not when you pull back from the hug, look into his eyes, and offer him the brightest smile he's ever seen

and certainly not when you grab onto his hands and speak in that sweet honey voice of yours, "i'll always take a bullet for you. i can't lose you, simon."

jesus christ you're going to make his heart burst

he sucks in a small breath and squeezes onto your hands, "i can't lose you either, kid."

you only smile, "you won't, i'm always gonna be here with you."

words that once would've annoyed him to no end now set his cold heart alight

"you fuckin' better."

your smile widens and you lean forward to capture him in yet another hug

with his arms wrapped tightly around your body and you pressed up against him, he can't help but smile

it's definitely nice to have a friend

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joelsgoldrush · 10 months

Text

swore i heard you whisper that you preferred us like that

joel miller x f!reader / 5,8k words

summary: you ask joel –the quiet, distant joel– to teach you how to ride a horse. they say the eyes are the window to the soul, and it must be true, because when he really sees you, it´s like he finally understands what you feel for him.

warnings: smut 18+ let’s pretend joel never left jackson, porn with plot, no use of y/n, age gap (reader is in her late 20s, joel is 56), grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation, pet names, unprotected p in v (don't try this at home ok), dirty talk, soft!dom joel (sort of???), a bit of angst/feelings, joel gets all babygirl around reader, ellie appears for like a minute, mediocre attempt at recreating joel's southern accent (sorry in advance)

a/n: hello??? well this is my first fic ever so bear with me, i'm still new to all this. also english isn't my first language so i'm afraid there may be mistakes (mostly when it comes to collocations bc i hate them and they confuse me), buuuut i'm learning obviously and if you find anything that should be corrected PLEASE TELL ME thank you :) i'd appreciate if you told whether you liked this story (idk what to call it tbh) but if you don't it's more than fine! anyways thank you so much for reading if you come across this fic, i hope you like it! i've spent a week writing it bc finals season is killing me <///3

here's my masterlist in case you want to read my other works :)

"Oh, my drunken southern star / How you tried to hide in darkness / Slipped from orbit / Now you’re dangerously close / Come out, come out from all your hiding out / We’ll dig in our heels, salute the battlefields / Where our broken hearts were born."

What is it that he has?

You used to ask yourself that question every night as you went to bed. On some occasions, you couldn't manage to come up with an exact answer. There were too many reasons that disclosed why a man like him lingered on your mind, even in those moments that were supposed to be for you and only you. Sleeping more than three hours a day was definitely something you needed tremendously, but still, the not-so-rational voice inside your head kept on bringing his name up without fail, disturbing your rest.

Joel Miller. Was it possible to feel like this? Like you knew somebody without having exchanged more than five words with them? Sure, there wasn't a single person in Jackson who wasn't aware of his existence. From whispered rumors in the streets to stories that intended to give his reserved personality an explanation, Joel became a real talking-point among those in the commune. Years ago, when the world was still just a floating ball in space, he would’ve frightened you, being the kind of person your parents used to warn you about as you started to grow older.

He walked a certain way, as if he were holding the suffering of many lives in his hands. Always on guard, prepared to fight those who defied him. Hidden knives in his pockets, a gun between his fingers, the trigger too tempting to be pulled at any time given. His hair was a mixture of brown and gray, and you swore that the latter was only becoming more prominent as days went by.

Suddenly, your pillow felt too uncomfortable, your hands fisting the fabric of your t-shirt while you kicked the blanket resting on top of your bare feet. A sigh escaped your lips, the taste of something you couldn't even distinguish on your tongue, your unsteady breath being the only sound to be heard in that noiseless night.

You were having a hard time figuring out how you felt about Joel (if there was anything to feel in the first place, since he barely remembered your face and there you were, fantasizing about him instead of sleeping.) Maybe you liked how he presented himself, how bossy and persistent he looked the times you caught him patrolling around the zone. Or perhaps it was his character what charmed you in the first place, and the fact that, deep down, a different side from him remained completely unseen.

He was handsome, too. Tall, broad shoulders, aquiline nose. His arms looked majestic in every single piece of clothing he wore, his tanned skin shiny enough to reflect the very same sun. And his legs… you were sure they were muscular like the rest of his body, because of all the physical effort he did. You had heard that he worked as a contractor before the pandemic, which made a lot of sense. Once or twice you had paid attention to his hands and–

Then, a familiar feeling sinked in. Warm began spreading through your belly, your thighs involuntary clenching together. “Fuck,” you muttered in a low tone, keeping your hands glued to your sides. Another motive not to think about Joel: he made you feel… things. Certain things that you hadn't felt for anyone in a very long time. You preferred to think that it was probably due to the fact that you were touch-starved, and not because you found yourself deeply attracted to him. Never had you ever been a sexually active person, so why now? Why did the mere image of Joel in your mind turn you on?

He’s strong. I’m alone. I feel the need to find someone who’s willing to protect me. That’s it. No other reason.

Your internal monologue was lacking in arguments, but it was definitely something you could work with. As if on cue, you found it hard to keep your eyes open, your limbs not feeling as if they were yours anymore. Next thing you knew, you were asleep.

That night, you dreamt with Joel.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

In a small cabin, you taught children how to paint and draw. Maria believed it to be helpful for their psychological development or something like that, and you had agreed to do it. A good way to spend your free time– that’s what it was. Plus, you liked children; some would even choose to include you in their drawings, and that small gesture just warmed your heart.

There, you met Ellie, a teenager whose basic vocabulary consisted mostly of profanities.

And boy, you loved Ellie.

It was hard not to, actually. She was like a breath of fresh air, with her jokes and instant charm. You two became attached in a short time, and she reminded you of a younger version of you, just a lot braver. Although in this world it brought her benefits, you sometimes wished she wouldn’t have gone through all that shit. Those eyes, which squinted as she laughed if you tickled her sides, were the cemetery of many buried memories. You wondered how she managed to put a smile on her face despite her past and the horrible things she had seen, hoping it was genuine and not a mask.

“Look!” her voice brought you back to reality. Blinking in her direction, you realized the amount of paint you had dropped onto the floor, a red stain already forming on the carpet. “Are you okay? You seem off.”

“I’m fine! Just a bit sleepy today, that's all,” you got closer to where she was lying down, her fingers moving the brush you had gifted her in different directions. Squatting a bit, you placed a strand of hair that didn’t make it into her ponytail behind her ear. “So, what are you painting?”

She smiled warmly, and her teeth catched her lower lip momentarily. “It’s not finished, okay? Don’t freak out. I know you’re a perfectionist.”

“I’m not…” you tried to explain yourself, but ended up choosing to be defeated. “Maybe you’re right. Anyway, may I see it?”

The canvas was in your hands a few moments later. Ellie spoke beside you, her words mixing together in a sign of embarrassment. “It’s for Joel. Figured I could do something nice for him, you know? I don’t– I think I need to start over. His eyes look kind of strange, don’t they? They’re so close he looks like a cyclops.”

“Don’t say that, kiddo. This is… it’s beautiful,” your index finger traced the lines framing his jaw, the shades of his skin perfectly achieved. You held the painting even tighter, afraid of breaking it for a second. He wasn’t frowning like he normally did; Ellie had painted him smiling, and the crinkles by his eyes matched his age. Surely you must have spent more time than necessary staring at it, ‘cause then Ellie continued talking.

“Well, you know what they say: The student has become the teacher.”

You handed the canvas to her, a smirk taking place on your face. “Yeah, I guess I’ll stop teaching you if that’s the case.”

An hour or so later, someone knocked on the door. As both of your hands were occupied (a more formal way to say that they were dirty with paint), you screamed “Come in!”, and Ellie covered her painting with an old, muddy curtain you used to clean the tables in which the children worked. You were about to ask her why she had reacted in that way, until you turned around and saw him.

Joel was there, as every other Wednesday. In your cabin, standing right in front of you. And you didn’t even look presentable. His hair looked messy, a couple of locks stuck to his forehead with sweat. “Hi,” he said shortly, meeting your gaze and attempting to shake your hand, but you avoided contact.

Showing him your hands, you held your palms in the air as an indication of the still fresh paint on your skin. “Sorry. If I were to accept the gesture, I’d leave you a stain.”

He retrieved a bit, adjusting his glove. “It’s okay. Safety first.”

That was supposed to be a joke, you noticed tardily. The silence in the room persisted until Ellie appeared from behind your back, already putting her coat on.

“You were supposed to pick me up in half an hour, asshole.”

His mouth snapped shut for an instant. “I missed you too. How was the class?”

Ellie lifted her shoulder in a half shrug, looking in your direction and proceeding to jerk her thumb toward Joel. She didn’t want him to see the painting. “Fine as usual.”

“Can I see what you’re–”

“No fucking way!” she accentuated the word fucking, drawing him closer to the door.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not done.”

“But–”

“No more questions, Joel. Let’s go! Say bye!” Ellie handled him like a baby, which made you giggle.

Though you saw Joel raising his eyebrows, so you stopped laughing.

Soon, they left and the cabin returned to its familiar quietness. A sigh erupted from your chest, and you allowed yourself to fall on top of a chair.

At least you could say you had actually talked to Joel for once.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

It didn’t surprise you that you wanted to see him again.

Not in the “you-turn-me-on” way, but in the “you-seem-interesting-and-i-need-to-find-out-why” one.

He had something. Something so magnetic and indecipherable that kept pulling you towards him. Something that made you look for his presence in every crew, and not sensing what it was only made your wishes to dissect him grow bigger. There was a tiny probability that he was an idiot with a pretty face. Who knew? You definitely didn’t, and that needed to change. You deserved to know if pining over that man was worth it or not.

That chain of thoughts led you to look for him the next day, almost trembling with eagerness as you asked him the most stupid and unexpected question you could have imagined.

“Would you teach me how to ride a horse?”

He looked at you as if you were out of your mind, opening his mouth a few times and then closing it before he actually replied to you. “You’re tellin' me you don’t know how to ride a horse?”

“Tried it a few times, but failed and now I really want to learn to do it properly,” you swore his eyes were trying to decipher if you were saying the truth or not. “Ellie told me that you could probably make some time to teach me?”

“So Ellie's in charge of my schedule, I suppose?” you froze on the spot, and he must have noticed it because then his expression dulled. “Sorry, sweetheart. It was a joke. I've been told I'm not the best humorist.”

Sweetheart. You could’ve died a happy girl.

“Look, why don’t we meet up tomorrow after lunch? I'm sure it won’t take us much time. Not a difficult task, y’know?” he stroked his beard, apparently thinking you understood what he was talking about.

“Sure. Thank you, Joel. My name’s–“

He didn’t let you finish. “I do know your name,” and before leaving, he repeated: “I’ll be here tomorrow. You know where to find me.”

To say that you slept without interruptions that night was an understatement. Each hour seemed to become longer the more you glimpsed your watch. Your heart drummed inside your chest violently, and you feared that someone else would be able to hear it if they got close enough to you.

After having lunch in the same spot as every other mundane day, your legs took you to the stable. You took a shaky breath, expecting him to appear out of thin air, but fifteen minutes went by, and there was still no sign of Joel. Pressing your forehead against the wooden door, you wrapped your arms around yourself. “What was I even thinking?”

“Hey.”

You looked to your side and– there he was, already getting inside the stable and inviting you to follow him. Joel petted one of the horses, clicking his tongue. His fingers caressed the animal’s back, and when he shot a glance at you, he didn’t ignore your disturbed expression.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of horses.”

“I’m not afraid of them,” you laughed awkwardly, eyeing the horse, which stared at you with those big and strange eyes. You raised your hand to mimic Joel, but that just made the animal move further away from you. “I guess it’s mutual. We don’t like each other.”

Joel smirked, guiding you outside. “It’s a damn horse. I don’t think you can tell whether he likes you or not. You gotta change that attitude of yours,” he murmured as he got on top of the horse, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Treat him well and he’ll be nice.”

At first, Joel taught you the basics: how to position yourself for balance, get your legs in the right position, hold the reins properly. A little bit of help coming from him was needed for you to mount the horse. He got down on one knee, patting it as if it were a mounting block. “Come on. Step on it.”

No need to ask me twice, you thought as you did what you were told, and once you were grabbing on those reins for dear life, you observed him with curious eyes. “Now what?”

“Now…” he pressed his hand into one of the horse’s sides, and afterwards, the horse began to fucking trot and you cried out, a high-pitched shriek slipping from your mouth. Joel laughed maliciously, almost hypnotized by the scene. “Now is when you learn how to ride a horse!”

“This isn't funny!” you screamed, the horse still very much entertained with the way you were jerking on top of him. “Stop!”

You couldn't believe how he kept… cracking up. Joel touched his stomach, shaking with laughter. “You’re a natural, can’t you see it? I’m havin' the time of my life here.”

“What I can see is that you’re an idiot! Cut the cackle and help me!”

But he didn’t move a single muscle. Instead, he remained still, that smug look never abandoning his features.

The bastard. “You’re gonna make me beg? In this situation?”

Crossing his arms while teasingly grinning at you, he added: “Wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“Joel Miller, will you help me? Pretty please?” your hair was getting in the way, and you could taste it as you insisted. “Is that enough for you?”

It was, actually. He helped you get down from the horse, his thick fingers digging into the mushy skin of your waist. It shouldn’t have felt that good, but it did. You were supposed to be angry at him for setting you up and still, by touching you for a microsecond, he had transformed you into something malleable.

Sadly, that feeling didn’t last much longer. “Didn’t know you were a man of manners. Should’ve told me beforehand.”

“Didn't know you could scream like that. I hope you didn’t freak anyone out.”

The two of you continued to practice until nightfall. A thing you also learned, apart from horse riding, was that Joel was a determined man. Everytime you tried to quit, he stopped you, making it impossible for you to rest. You stared at him, rubbing the back of your sore neck with a grimace. “I’m tired. Can we go back?”

“One more time.”

“Joel–”

“Trot a couple of meters just one more time, and that’s it for today. Can you do that for me?”

You tried not to pay too much attention to his choice of words, although it was basically non-viable. He looked sinful, and you longed to shut him up with a bruising kiss. Again, a hopeless option. Your hands itched to touch him, to feel his stubble, rough and coarse under your thumbs. How could you stay focused when the man you had been daydreaming with for the last couple of months was bossing you around?

Despite your inability to clear your head of any of those thoughts, you managed to accomplish what he had asked you to do. “Well done,” he offered you his hand to dismount the horse and you accepted it, sighing as you stretched out your arms. “We should take him back to the stable,” Joel suggested, giving you the impression of being pleased as you told him you were coming with him.

Inside the stable, he relocated the horse into one of the many stalls. Unbelievably, the place didn’t smell like absolute shit, which was what you were expecting from a barn. “Thank you for the lesson,” you told Joel once he was done with the horse.

“Anytime,” he scratched his jaw, the dim light making his dark eyes look, if possible, even darker. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“No. You were right,” your heart thrummed with every word that he blurted. His presence was addictive. You were never the one to have any bad habits, but deep down, you recognized that he easily could develop one. “I thought you were less talkative.”

“So did I,” for an instant, he pressed his lips together, forming a tight line, as if he had said something he shouldn’t have in the first place. “I think I didn’t ask you this before: but why now? I mean, why did you wait so much time to learn how to ride a horse? Everyone in Jackson seems to know how.”

You cleared your throat, his piercing eyes peering at your movements. “I guess I thought it wasn't necessary back then, before all this. It's one of those things that you don't even consider until it becomes inevitable. I used to believe I had a lot of time left when I was younger,” you had never talked about this with anyone else. There was something so intimate about this conversation, how Joel stood seemingly tongue-tied in front of you, as if he were taking notes of what you were confessing to him. “I remember being a kid and not wanting to use my toys sometimes because I kept waiting for the right moment. But then…”

“You realize there’s no such thing as the right moment,” he finished the sentence for you, and you bowed your head. “Life can end at any moment, especially in a world like ours. That’s why you always gotta do what you wish to. We never know what’ll happen tomorrow.”

“Live for today, hope for tomorrow? That’s your creed?” you tried to mock him, the tension in the stable far from evident, but he didn’t move.

“It’s the way I try to live my own life. I don’t like being left with the desire to do somethin’ I could’ve done earlier. Too old for that.”

Maybe you were gradually losing it. Perhaps just a little. It couldn’t be a coincidence, right? Had he noticed how you acted around him? Were you that obvious?

“So, you would advise me to just…”

“Do whatever you feel right, sweetheart.”

That raspy sweetheart made you give in.

His eyes. His penetrating, gleaming eyes scrutinized your face at the same time you closed the distance between your bodies. From there, you were able to see every freckle, every small detail that you hadn’t previously acknowledged. He parted his lips, as if to speak, but no words other than your name came out. One of your hands made its way up to his cheek, cupping it, feeling the warmth his skin radiated. His head immediately leaned into your touch, like a moth into a flame.

You kissed him, unable to keep waiting. It took him what felt like ages to kiss you back, his fingers tangling in your hair. He absorbed your whimpers, pressing your back against the nearest wall. Maddening– it was the perfect word to describe how being kissed by Joel felt like. When you thought he was going to draw away from you, he just held you tighter until your lungs implored for some air. Your knees had never felt this weak, and you found yourself grabbing onto his shoulders, already feeling the places where his stubble had left its trace in flames.

“Joel…” you mumbled against his lips, detaching your mouth from his. Your erratic breaths seemed to sync together like a melody, and you tugged at the collar of his jacket.

He knew, could see it on your features. “Wanna go to yours?”

Joel took you home. The moment you set foot in the cabin, he closed the door behind him, his hand lingering on the handle as he contemplated you from a distance. You took your coat off first, starting to unzip your pants. There was silence long enough to hear crickets in, the moon up in the sky being the only bystander of your meeting. His eyes roamed the newly exposed skin of your legs and you observed him gulp.

“Did something happen?” you asked him, a flush crepting up your face. Taking a step forward, one of his hands came to rest on top of yours.

“No, it’s just that– Are you sure you want this?”

Crinkling your nose, you uttered: “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m just too old for you,” he warned you, running a knuckle down your cheek. “You should be with guys your age, y’know? Not with an old man like me.”

“I want you,” reassuring him, you got rid of your t-shirt, and the fact he was still dressed up from neck to toes lit some kind of fire inside you. His calloused fingers fiddled with the strap of your bra until it slipped off your shoulder. “This is what I want. Please, Joel.”

It turned out that Joel Miller certainly was a man of manners.

You couldn't help but moan as he grabbed you by the waist, dragging you to the couch by the window and straddling his lap, his hard-on finding its place beneath you, pulsing and in need of more. His tongue brushed yours ever so often, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his teeth latched onto the skin of your throat. Joel groaned, the sound, low and primal, having its desired effect on you, your hips involuntarily grinding against his in a delicious but tormenting rhythm that already had you on the verge of tears.

“Joel, please,” you managed to plead, not knowing precisely what you were asking for. His hands cupped your ass, imprinting his fingerprints on the soft flesh, forcing your hips to go harder and harder. The harsh fabric of his pants was definitely going to leave a mark on your cheeks, and thinking that helped you realize that you were the only one –almost– naked. You reached for the buttons of his denim shirt, your lips hovering over his. “Take your clothes off?”

He did the rest himself, throwing his jacket to the floor. When he got to his jeans, he cocked his head. “Why don’t we move this to the bedroom, if you’re so goddamn needy?” The few guys you had been with had never been very talkative during sex; there was even this one specific boy who had asked you to not make a sound while he fucked you.

But Joel wasn’t like them. It was just starting and you had already realized that he had a dirty mouth, an expectant look on his face every time he waited for your reaction to his words. “Now you’re quiet, huh? Thought you wanted me to fuck you, darlin',” one of his fingers pressed down on your clit, stimulating it through your underwear. He sighed, stopping his movements and pressing the damp pad of it against your lower lip, urging you to taste yourself. “You’re wet, baby. So fuckin’ wet. Have you been like this all day? Bet you would’ve let me take you right there in the forest.”

“Oh my God,” you whined next to his ear, your whole body trembling with desire. “Take me to bed,” you begged him, and next thing you knew, he was grabbing you as if you weighed nothing and heading towards your room.

Not knowing how, you kept your hands to yourself until he placed you on top of the bed. Joel shoved his jeans down and you didn’t think twice– you stroked his length, the fabric of his boxers only making the slow drag of your hand more satisfying. His long fingers circled your throat, and you moaned as you kept eliciting exquisite noises from him. “Let me take care of you,” his dilated pupils carved holes in your being, his grip doing nothing to cease the ache between your legs. “Please, baby. I need to make you feel good. Been thinkin’ about this for so long.”

“What?” you slowed down your pace, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “You wanted me?”

“Why do you think I began to pick Ellie up from your classes, huh? Because I’m a good, generous man?” Joel parted your knees, getting closer to where you required him the most. “I’m sorry to ruin this, but I’m far from good. Just wanted to see you and your pretty face. Didn’t know if we were on the same page until you came lookin' for me, askin' me to teach you how to ride a damn horse,” you hadn’t noticed your bra was missing till he cupped one of your breasts, flicking your nipple between his fingers. “I’m sure there were many other people you could’ve asked to teach you, but you chose me, didn’t you?”

“Don’t want anybody else,” your lips chased his, a drop of sweat already rolling down your temple. “I didn’t– didn’t know you noticed me.”

“How could I not? If you could only look at yourself like I’m doing right now… You’re a sight, sweetheart, all spread out for me,” removing your panties, he kissed the skin where your inner thighs met, his tongue darting out to draw imaginary figures on your flesh. His mouth was just inches away from your cunt, and you had to tell him.

“Joel?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve never– nobody has ever done that for me.”

He seemed to understand what you were referring to. It made you tense a bit, despite the fact that you were completely naked in front of him, basically begging him to tear you apart. Still, the realization that you weren't as expert as him hit you out of nowhere. Yeah, it was all fun and games, kissing and touching probably the hottest man you had seen in your almost three decades of life. But said man was a lot older than you, and he had lived his best years in the real world, not this fucked up version you grew up in. You were sure he had been with many different women, which wasn’t a problem– you two were nothing.

“Nobody has ever tasted ya’? That’s what you’re tryin’ to tell me?” you nodded quickly, shoving a strand of his graying hair back away from his eyes. Joel chuckled languidly, squeezing your hips. “Do you want me to? It’s okay if you don’t. We can try somethin’ else.”

“Please,” you’d have time to embarrass yourself later, thinking about the amount of times you had repeated that word. But certain moments were to be lived only once, and though you hoped it wasn't the case, you had to take the chance. “I want you to.”

Four words. It took Joel four words to disappear between your legs, licking a hot stripe up your folds. You nibbled on your bottom lip, a loud moan filling the void of your dorm. He drew sweet patterns in your cunt, discovering a part of you that no one else ever had, and you couldn’t help but to grind against his face as he dipped the tip of his tongue into your entrance. Breathing wasn’t a necessity anymore. You felt as if all the air in the world was being punched out of your lungs, the knot in your belly growing tighter the more Joel spent his precious time keeping you entertained.

At some point, he focused his attention on your clit, circling it over and over again, making you shudder. Suddenly, the pad of his middle finger tested the waters, and he slowly slid it into your cunt, earning a strangled whine from you. Burying your hands in his hair, your glossy eyes looked for him for a second. You shouldn’t have done that, because as you took in the sight of Joel with his own eyes closed, browns knitted, your nostrils flared, and you wondered if it was even possible to want somebody that much.

“Joel, wait, I’m– fuck,” your jaw went slack and you scrunched up your face, two of his thick fingers nudging that spot that made you see stars. “I’m close.”

“That’s a good thing, sweetheart. Don’t know why you say it in such a dry tone,” his mouth curved into a smile, his chin and stubble shining with your slick.

Your chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. “I don’t want to come yet.”

“But you will.”

A thing you also learned, apart from horse riding, was that Joel was a determined man.

“Joel–“

“I’ll make you come with my mouth, and then with my cock,” dizziness was starting to blur your vision, your eyelashes fluttering with every hard thrust of his fingers. You glanced up to the ceiling, tears filling your eyes. “Think you can do that for me, be my good girl and come twice?”

You bobbed your head. It was official: he was going to make you come.

Drawing in a long breath, you could feel the unbearable pressure in your core. His name sounded like a prayer on your lips, chanting it in the same way some people expressed their devotion to a certain God. You had your own personal deity, whose tongue accomplished to push you to the limit, licking every drop of your release as if it were a special kind of forbidden elixir.

Your shoulders sagged and you relaxed under him. Joel kissed you, an open mouthed and filthy kiss crowning that moment as you panted. Through the cotton fabric of his boxers, you felt his hard-on poking your thigh. Shoving his underwear down, you took him in your hand, hot and just big, stroking him for real this time. You twisted your wrist at the tip, and he slumped forward, almost crushing you with his entire body weight, his breath dampening your neck. “Wanna fuck you, baby,” he croaked, his hips chasing your touch.

Out of all the scenarios you had ever imagined, none of them included being split open by Joel. You had a very vivid imagination, but no amount of creativity would’ve prepared you for what his cock would feel like inside of you. He bottomed out, his arms shaking where they rested on each side of your head. Joel’s breath quickened as he pulled out, just letting the tip, and then thrusting into you again.

“Fuck,” you didn’t recognize your own voice. It was even hard to decipher if you were still alive or dead from how magnificent he felt.

“So good, sweetheart. You’re so good, such a good girl,” he groaned, fucking deeper into you. His cock pulsed inside you, your cunt squeezing him. “Can’t believe how– how tight you are. You’re gonna make me lose my f–fucking mind.”

It was just too much. You hadn’t even recovered from your last orgasm before Joel started pounding into you like his life depended on it, the obscene sound of skin slapping skin ringing out in the room.

“You gonna come, huh? Gonna make a mess?” you could sense he was also close, his pace faltering as seconds went by, words slurring together. He pressed his forehead against yours, clenching his fists and taking in a sharp breath. “Fuck. I’m not gonna last much longer, baby.”

Come inside, you wished to tell him, to feel his seed dripping out of your greedy hole, painting your walls. But you weren't on the pill; it was also the first time you were sleeping with Joel, and you didn’t know how he would take the… suggestion. “Close,” you yelped instead, tears shimmering in your eyes as Joel’s body hovered over you like the most perfect eclipse.

His thrusts became more frenzied, if possible. “That’s it, darlin’. Come for me,” your gaze fixated upon him, his eyes flickering with hunger. “Wanna see you when you soak my cock.”

Your body went limp, your orgasm hitting you like a truck. Soreness took place in your throat as you moaned his name through the aftershocks, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids. Going rigid, you let go of Joel’s shoulders. He pulled out, mumbling something you didn’t quite catch. You fisted his cock, trying to give him the release he so yearned for. Joel kissed you, messy teeth and saliva taking part of it. Heavy on your hand, his dick twitched as you squeezed the base, roped of his warm cum splattering your belly. The scene reminded you of a painting; he was the talented painter, and you his blank canvas, waiting to be signed with his name.

It was the turn of silence now. None of you said anything for a while, until Joel used his boxers to clean up his cum from your stomach, smiling apologetically at you. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” your fingers delicately traced the contours of his chest as he reclined, enveloping you in the embrace of his strong arms. “Will you stay?”

Please say yes.

“Only if you want me to.”

Moral of the story: learning how to ride a horse can actually be nice if your teacher happens to be Joel Miller.

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skyahri · 1 month

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How They Found Out P2 |Naruto Men X Reader| HC

Characters: Sasuke Uchiha, Shikamaru Nara, Kakashi Hatake

Summary: The aftermath of your relationship becoming public. Part two to How They Found Out

Warnings: Mentions of sex, marriage, kids. Pretty low key tbh.

- - - - -

Sasuke Uchiha

What an absolute nightmare.

Once you heard the front door shut, Sasuke basically collapsed on top of you.

He groaned. His night had been ruined, and on top of it, Naruto was sure to cause drama for the coming days.

"It's okay, Sasuke. They were sure to find out anyway."

"Our relationship going public and Naruto catching us having sex are two very different issues, and it's a bit concerning that you think I'm worried about the latter."

You kick him off of you with a laugh and suggest a shower. There was no way your escapades could continue on after all the fuss.

The next morning, you basically had to drag Sasuke out of the house.

He'd been moaning and groaning and grumbling since last night, so much so that he started to sound like Shikamaru.

Who knew Sasuke could complain so much.

Once you were out the door and the second your friend's eyes caught you, they pounced.

All at once, they hounded you about what Naruto may or may not have seen (Naruto has a habit of being a bad storyteller, so who knows what actually went down)

Sasuke refused to answer any questions until the chaos had settled down. They did eventually, albeit reluctantly.

"It's true."

That just sent them all reeling again, begging for details.

You two already discussed what you'd keep secret and what you'd share, so the meeting went pretty smoothly once everyone agreed to keep their composure.

Until fucking Sakura started asking questions about your sex life.

After that, you zipped your mouth and refused to answer anything further.

They'd just have to live on not knowing anything.

Shikamaru Nara

After news got out, Ino decided it was her place to convince Shikamaru to, in her words, "be a man and ask her out already!"

He ignored her, convinced she was full of it and brushed her off.

But her words lingered in his head.

Your friends were all beginning to settle down; Naruto and Hinata had just gotten married. Talk of kids had started to circulate in the group.

Were you wanting marriage and children?

The slow buzzing quickly turned into an almost constant fog in his mind. He'd never been so distracted before.

What a drag.

Within the week, he was knocking on your door.

"I need to ask you about something."

Weird. You could read him pretty well at this point, but this energy he was putting off was new.

"What's up, Shika?"

"Do you want to get married?"

Your eyes widened and jaw dropped. When you tried to answer, you found yourself at a loss of words.

"I mean, damnit, I- do you want to get married eventually? Or have kids at some point?"

You stared at him like he had two heads.

"Are you feeling alright? Why don't you come inside?"

He didn't fight you. He walked in and sat at your table in silence while you made him some tea.

You'd pried it out of him that Ino was behind this sudden change, and assured him that things would be okay.

"Look, I never brought it up because I know you're not a feelings guy, buy yeah, I guess I would like to have a family. I thought that's what you wanted, too?"

He got that irritated look on his face. The one he always gets when people ask him to work.

"It is, but,"

"But don't worry about it. I work on your time, so whenever you're ready."

You gave him a kiss on the cheek.

He let out a sigh of relief, glad to have fallen into such a situation with someone who understands him so well.

"Not too long, though. It's been almost two years, Shika."

On second thought, this was a total drag.

Kakashi Hatake

The next morning, you two made sure to bump into his students.

They seemed rather pleased with themselves, that they had been the ones to finally catch Kakashi lacking.

It only took a single look for Sasuke to realize it was all fake. They'd been bested by their sensei once again.

That quick glance he got from Kakashi told him not to say anything to the others, which he hadn't planned on anyway.

"Kakashi sensei, why didn't you ever tell us you were seeing someone?"

He set a hand on Sakuras head and ruffled her hair.

"I try not to share my personal matters with children. That's what friends are for."

Enter Gai, who happened to hear.

"You didn't tell us either, Kakashi."

He just shrugged, sending Gai into a fit.

News traveled fast in the village. What else is to be expected when romance rumors come up about the Hokage?

Kakashi was actually very calm about the whole thing.

Despite dreading this day for a long time, he was actually very content with the outcome.

There had been so much going on when you initially got together. Wars and death and PTSD and all that.

But now was a time of peace. A perfect time to actually start living, and this was just the beginning.

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whydon-twego · 10 months

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When the doors of the king's chamber slam heavily against the walls and Merlin enters with a tray in his hand and a frown on his face Arthur cannot say he is surprised to see his Court Sorcerer enter. No one else would dare enter so blatantly.

Merlin does not say a word but looks at Arthur's new servant as he adjusts Arthur's shirt and Merlin places the tray with breakfast heavily on the table.

"Get out!" says Merlin in an imperious tone to the new servant and the latter, after casting a glance at Arthur and Arthur nods in assent, leaves with his tail between his legs.

Merlin wastes no time in approaching and arranging Arthur's clothes as best he can, muttering about the inefficiency of the new servants and how no one can do their duty decently. Arthur observes Merlin's face and listens to his chatter and manages to relax his shoulders. They have not seen each other except at court meetings for days, barely able to exchange a few words, too tired in the evenings even to have a glass of wine in company. And Merlin must have made no small effort to be there at dawn, and his dark circles confirm this. Arthur would like to raise a hand to caress those high cheekbones that have become even more pronounced because Merlin is not eating anything and is sleeping less and less (because of the delegation that is about to arrive) but, although his hands tingle to get up and do just that, he remains motionless listening to Merlin's voice complaining, while Merlin's hands fix his collar and Arthur finally feels the touch of a person he knows, feels the touch of a person whose touch he would like to feel every morning for the rest of his life, possibly.

"You missed me, huh?" says Arthur, because he wants to make sure, because it may be stupid but he missed Merlin so much that he wants to know if it is the same for the other.

It seems to be the wrong thing to say, however, because Merlin frowns and no longer looks him in the eye as he picks up his jacket and helps him put it on.

"Prat" hears him murmuring and Arthur knows (after all this time he simply knows) that he said the wrong thing, and he is so tired of these unspoken sayings, he is so tired of not being able to do what he really wants and he is so tired of not being able to see Merlin every day, of having a new servant, of not having Merlin's chattering anymore.

When he appointed him Court Sorcerer, he didn't think it would drive him further away. He thought they would reign side by side, discussing the kingdom yes, but also remaining good friends, if they could not be more.

Arthur steps forward and brings his arms around Merlin, holding him close and hiding his face in Merlin's neck.

Arthur feels as if he can breathe for the first time in decades and holds on tighter, inhaling and breathing deeply until he feels Merlin's arms around him with the same intensity.

"Then I wasn't the only one who missed you," whispers Merlin directly into Arthur's ear and Arthur laughs but doesn't loosen the hug because he's fine the way he is.

"I miss your chatter and the way you woke me up in the morning. Who would have thought that a competent servant would be so terrible to tolerate? He never talks to me and answers me by looking at the floor, it's like he's afraid of me."

Merlin snorts and Arthur hears him smile and isn't that the nicest thing that has happened in the last few days?

"He is obviously afraid of you. I have heard terrible things about how you treat your servants."

Arthur smiles back.

"I was used to you and the way you respond and react, habits die hard"

Merlin nods and lifts his face to look at him but neither of them turn away.

"…Shall we have a picnic when the delegation leaves?"

Arthur has it on the tip of his tongue you're such a girl, Merlin but, as already mentioned, he's tired of subterfuge and having to be impassive all the time he finds himself smiling and nodding.

"I think that would be a good idea."

#friends to lovers #merthur #merthur prompt #merthur fic #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merlin prompt #merlin fic #merlin #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #king arthur #my writing

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detectivestucks · 2 months

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Overnight Training

18+ content, Minors do NOT interract

Pairing: Kakashi x F!Reader

Summery: Your adopted baby brother Naruto isn't being treated fairly by his Sensei as he prepares for the third Chunin Exam. You go over to Kakashi's house to give him a piece of your mind.

Warnings: NSFW, gaslighting, spanking, slapping, fingering, oral, unprotected penetration

Word Count: 4.5k

Anon Request

The smell of Ichiraku ramen wafts through the air and into your nose like a welcome friend on your way towards the noodle shop. You see a familiar pair of legs dangling off the stool as you approach, ready and waiting for you to pay for their meal.

“Hi Naruto!”

“Hi Y/N-san!”

“How ya doin kiddo?” you say as you tousle his blonde hair.

Though he was a royal pain in the ass, you took a liking to Naruto shortly before he enrolled in the Ninja Academy. He was loud and crazy, and terrorized the village plenty, but then one time you caught him between acts of corruption. You saw the sad orphan who just needed attention and you took it upon yourself to become a sister figure to him. You’d chase down shop owners who were rude to him, gossiping wives spreading false rumors about the boy, and yes, you went toe to toe with Iruka several times while he was at the Academy. The latter may have resulted in a brief relationship but ultimately caring for Naruto was your primary concern and Iruka couldn’t appear to be favoring the boy more than he already was. The two of you had started talking on and off now that Naruto was no longer at the Academy but now you have a new sensei to worry about.

The infamous Kakashi Hatake, the Copy Ninja. You were less than thrilled to find out he would be responsible for your baby brother because of his reputation as being ruthless. Naruto needed a nurturer like Iruka, not a solider like Kakashi. Lord Hiruzen assured you it would be fine but you had your doubts, hence why you began checking in on Naruto more than ever.

“I’m doing really really well! I learned all kinds of chakra control stuff and I made it through the second exam!”

“That’s wonderful!”

“But now I’m trying to learn a cool new jutsu for the third one and Kakashi-sensei is too busy with Sasuke to train me!”

“What?! He’s not helping you train!”

“No” He crosses his arms in front of him. “I’m relying on some pervy old sage guy who said he’d train me.”

Your stomach sinks knowing who he’s talking about. “His real name wouldn’t happen to be Jiraiya, would it?”

“Yeah! That’s the one! But he spends most of our time looking at girls instead of giving me directions.”

“...I bet he does.” you murmur under your breath.

“Look Naruto, Jiraiya happens to be a really great ninja. You’re lucky to have gained him as a sensei.”

“You think so?!”

“They don’t call him one of the Legendary Sannin for nothin.”

“Wow! Really?”

“Really. And while you train with him, I’ll go give your Jonin Leader a good talking to. Remind him that he has three genin he’s responsible for, two of which made it to the final round.” You say in a firm tone as you accept your bowl of ramen.

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t go dating him like you did with Iruka-sensei. That was embarrassing.”

The heat on your cheeks rises as you nervously tuck your hair behind your ear. “It’s not gonna be like that. Iruka is…well…sweet,” you blush “But Kakashi is such a, well…”

“A Jerk!”

“Naruto! Don’t say that about your sensei!”

“Why not? You were going to.”

“Was not!”

“Were to!”

“Just eat your ramen.” you say with a soft tap of your chopsticks on his yellow mop.

The two of you chow down before you escort Naruto back to his home. He excitedly blabbered on and on about his experience in the second chunin exam and you couldn’t feel more proud of the kid than if he were your actual biological brother.

You reach the door to his second story home and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Okay, kiddo, have a good day of training tomorrow. Learn everything you can and put your all into it like usual.”

“Will do Y/N-san!”

“Night kid.” you say with a chuckle releasing his shoulder and watching as Naruto unlocks the door.

“Night Y/N-san!” he shouts as he closes the door.

You couldn’t help but smile at the disappearing image of the world’s most adorable little punk with a heart of gold to match his spiky locks. The idea that Kakashi abandoned him right before the third chunin exam had your blood boiling.

What the hell was Kakashi’s problem? Did he have some vendetta cause Naruto housed the Nine Tails? Was he favoring Sasuke cause of unresolved feelings about his old teammate, Obito? Or was he just a wannabe Uchiha jerk who needed to be taught a lesson?

You march your way over to Kakashi’s house and bang on his door. He takes forever to answer so you knock again, feeling your temper rise.

You hear the latch of his lock click and the sound of the knob twisting. As the door opened, you saw a shirtless Kakashi standing before you in sweats, with a towel in his hand. He had clearly been showering after a day of training with Sasuke and was in the middle of drying off when you disturbed him.

“Oh hey, Y/N. Come in.” he says casually as he walks away from the door towards his kitchen and lowers his head to dry his hair with the towel in his hand.

“Oh hey nothing, Kakashi! Don’t act like you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“...”

You let out a grunt of anger. Was he really that arrogant that he couldn’t have possibly done anything wrong. It just made you fume.

“You’re spending all your time training the Uchiha boy and left Naruto to fend for himself! How can you be so callous to your own team?!”

“I already told him I’m sorry. Plus what I’m trying to teach Sasuke is very complex and only someone with a sharingan can learn it.”

You stride up to him standing centimeters from his face as you glare and poke at his chest.

“Look at you all high and mighty. ‘Only someone with a sharingan can learn it.’ Bull! Naruto is swimming in chakra! He brims with potential while you’re out here playing favorites!”

Kakashi grabs the finger you were poking him with and spins you around so that your hand is pinned behind your back. He holds you firmly as he whispers dangerously in your ear,

“I’d be careful who I’m poking that finger at, little lady.”

Your breath may have faltered a little from the change in position but you had a point to prove so you press on.

“What, can’t take criticism?”

Kakashi slams your upper body down on his kitchen counter, your free hand barely catching you before you hit your head too hard. He leans down over you, his body pressing into yours as he chides,

“I treat all my soldiers the way they need to be treated. Only I can know what all three of them need from me at any given time. Right now, the only Uchiha in the village needs training from the only other posesser of a Sharingan in the entirety of Konaha. Unless you’re secretly an Uchiha bastard who can train him, I’d suggest you simmer down.”

His words were chilling. Ice to your ears. It made sense but why should Naruto get the short end of the stick? He was always excluded from everything. You struggle in Kakashi’s grasp trying to turn around and face him as you continue to defend your little brother.

“That’s a bullshit answer! Just cause Naruto doesn’t have a sharingan, means his own sensei can’t give him any training at all?!”

Kakashi slaps the flesh of your ass with all his might making you cry out in pain.

“Enough! I’ve heard about as much as I will tolerate from you! You don’t know a thing about leading a squad! I will not subject myself to any more of your baseless, ignorant opinions.”

He brings his hand down again on the same spot. All the muscle he spent years developing, employed in this moment to humiliate you as you laid bent over Kakashi’s counter, hand still pinned behind your back by nothing more than his grasp on your finger.

Your breath hitched as the blow landed, pain searing your skin. You were certain that a bruise would form within the next few minutes.

Overcoming the shock of his actions you begin to struggle in his grasp. “Fuckin’ asshole, let go of me!”

“I’m the asshole? You’re the one who came to my house to yell at me!” he snarls, twisting your arm painfully. You cry out but he doesn’t loosen his grip. No, he stands directly behind you, leaning in, securing your hips against the edge of the counter. He begins rubbing his hand in large circles over your hip and cheek as if preparing the area for another assault.

You continue to struggle when you feel his warm breath as he chuckles in your ear.

“Did you really think you could come over here to yell at me and get away with it?”

He interrupts his rubbing to deliver another striking blow to your cheek. “No. It seems you’ve been spending too much time around Naruto. You’ve forgotten your manners.”

His free hand slides from your ass up to your neck where he grabs you at the base of your jaw and turns your head to the side just enough to press his nose into your cheek.

“Maybe you need some private lessons from a sensei of your own. Hmm?”

You can feel his manhood hardening beneath his sweatpants, your compromised position once more causing your breath to falter.

Smiling at your reaction, Kakashi kisses your cheek before standing up. He keeps his hips ground against your rear, pinning you to the counter still. He begins to play with your hair using his free hand as he continues,

“Naruto’s lucky to have such a pretty big sister. Watching out for him, picking senseless fights.”

“It’s not senseless you’re showing favoritism.” You grumble before he twists your arm again causing you to wince.

“As likely as that may seem, let's not jump to conclusions yet.”

You scoff at him and he slaps down on your backside once more. You let out a small groan upon impact making Kakashi chuckle.

“Let’s look at the facts, shall we?”

Kakashi releases your arm to grab your hips and spin you around. He steers you towards the wall, backing you up against it, caging you in as he grabs both your wrists, bringing them up above your head and pinning them together to hold with one hand. He casually props his free hand on his hip while leaning his weight against your wrists with the other as he continues.

“Naruto is a high energy kid who needs a high energy sensei. His father’s former sensei is in the village, available to train him. Ask yourself, is that a coincidence?”

Your eyes narrow as you glare at him. His words were so convincing but you couldn’t shake the feeling he was full of it.

“Sasuke has no other options and happens to have the same chakra nature as me. A perfect student to pass my jutsu onto.” It takes every fiber of your being to resist the eye roll threatening to make an appearance at the mention of passing down his original jutsu. “It’s only logical that I give Naruto the honor of studying under one of the Legendary Sannin while I take on Sasuke”

He was damn good, you’d give him that. You knew he was full of shit but you almost believe him.

“Now what do you have to say to me?”

“Excuse me?”

He takes his hand off his hip to give your face a sharp slap.

“No, you do not need to ask to be excused. Try again.”

Your mouth falls open in disbelief. Your eyes scan down his body, starting with his covered face and dropping down to his shirtless chest. You take note of his war torn body carved to perfection with an alluring V-shape plummeting down into his baggy sweatpants currently pitched by his erection.

“Eyes up here, Sweetie.”

You look back up to his uncovered eye suddenly very aware of your nipples stiffening in your bra. You were so mad at yourself. You came to defend Naruto but found yourself pinned to the wall doubting your convictions as Kakashi closed the space between you. He gave you no other option than to feel his entire body against your own, pressing himself into your chest as his free hand roamed up and down your side.

Your breathing becomes shallow. All the free air between you is being used up by him when he reminds you what he’s waiting for.

“What do you have to say to me for coming to my house at night to yell at me?”

“I’m sorry?”

He slides his hand to your sore rear and grips it harshly, pulling your pelvis into his.

“Try that again.”

Brimming with shame you whisper in his ear, “I’m sorry”

“Good, but perhaps I should ensure this lesson really sticks so we don’t have a repeat of tonight, hmm?”

Your eyes grow wide as you search his face for answers but with a stoic expression he begins to unbutton your pants and tug them to the floor.

“Hey! What are you do-”

Your protests are cut off by Kakashi quickly removing his mask to kiss you. He presses his lips into yours, silencing your voice. It was surprisingly welcome. Tender but passionate with the taste of his orange mouthwash freshly on his breath. You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into it.

Once he had the cooperation of your lips he resumed removing your pants. Stripping you down to your thong. He began to rub over the fabric, circling around your clit making your breath catch in your throat.

“It seems like you’re struggling to stay mad at me. Isn’t that right Sweetie?” He stops rubbing to give your sex some firm pats over the cloth.

“Your underwear is soaked. Is that cause of me?”

Arrogant asshole. You were embarrassed and ashamed. You looked down so as not to acknowledge his statement but he gave a more forceful slap between your legs causing you to sharply inhale. He hums into your ear, enjoying how he is toying with you.

He slips your thong to the side exposing your bare folds and you can’t help but return your eyes to his face. He slips one of his long fingers in causing an involuntary whine to slip past your lips. The corner of his mouth turns up at the sound. He strokes in and out of you a few times before adding in a second finger. “Ah”

The sound was quiet and small but it ignited him in a primal way. He leans his forehead against yours as he continues to taunt.

“Naruto’s mouthy older sister. Always sticking her pretty nose where it doesn’t belong. I was wondering how long before I saw you at my door. Heck, I was practically counting the days.” He gives you a long drawn out kiss as his fingers continue to stroke in and out of you. “Been hoping to get a taste of what Iruka had ever since the kid was assigned to my team.”

You were so mad at him for bringing up your ex, but the way he was working your walls was enough for you to hold your silence. You didn’t want him to stop. You needed him to keep going, even as your trapped arms began to lose circulation and fall asleep above your head.

A third digit slides in leaving you gasping and breathless.

“You like that, don’t you Sweetheart?”

You’re biting your lip and closing your eyes, resisting the urge to scream ‘yes.’

“You don’t need to say anything, just let the cream running down my knuckles do the talking for you.”

You hated giving him the smug satisfaction but you squeeze around his fingers helplessly. Then he finds just the right spot and begins to hook his digits as he drags them outward. A long moan spills from your lips

“Oooh, gods Kakashi, yes!”

He hungrily kisses you, attempting to claim you as his own. The scent of his soap lingering on his freshly washed skin fills your nostrils as you inhale between kisses. His tongue explores the inside of your mouth, the muscle dancing with your own. A need to devour you communicated by his greedy lips.

He withdraws his fingers from your cavern and feeds them to you. You suck on them while making eye contact with him before he takes them out and finishes licking them clean in his own mouth, sucking one digit at a time.

When he was done he released your wrists and brought both of your arms to wrap around his neck, holding your gaze while he did.

The familiar tingle of circulation restoring itself spreads through your limbs as you tighten your grip around him. His hands run the course of your back. Wandering, touching, feeling, groping, before settling with one around the small of your back and the other in your hair. You lunge back into a kiss, nibbling and biting his lips, consumed with want. He pulls back briefly to pant, “bedroom.” You get the message and the two of you kiss sloppily as you stagger over. Once through the door you each shed your remaining layers before you fall to your knees.

Immediately you grasp his length, wrapping your fingers around its base while your other hand reaches up to claw at his back. You stroke him a few times before you point your tongue and drag it all the way from his base to his tip. You feel the rush of his blood pulse through his shaft as your grip tightens before you seal your lips around him. Up and down your hand tugged, keeping the pressure firm while your tongue worked along his slit, siphoning out his oozing pre cum. His hips shifted forward slightly and you knew he was yearning for you to swallow him whole.

You released his head with a wet pop before licking one more stripe up from his base.

You look up at him through your lashes and part your lips, breathing on his tip before opening up and swallowing till he hit the back of your mouth.

“I know you can do better than that” he taunts

You grip his hips, bracing yourself as you reangle and relax your throat, allowing him to sink past your vocal cords. Your nose brushes against his silver body hair as you push forward.

“Mmmm much better.”

He sinks his fingers into your hair, guiding you up and down along his length, the lip of his mushroom tip catching in your throat with each pass.

“Feels so damn good. This is where you belong. On your knees before me. Fuck”

He draws a breath through his teeth feeling a tingle run over his entire body. The lewd sounds coming from your mouth fill the air as he begins to rock his hips into you. He closes his eyes and groans, letting you service him, excited by the powerful feeling of having you choke on his cock.

Saliva dribbles out of the corners of your mouth and down on your barren chest. Your tongue glides along the underside of his length. When he bottoms out in your throat you stick it out further, trying to lick some of the skin below his endowment, making him shudder.

“Grab them.” he whispers.

You reach down and tactfully massage his balls in your hand. One arm still gripping around his hip and your nose flush with his abdominals, Kakashi was twitching harshly in your mouth. He was on the brink of cumming.

“Fuck Y/N! I didn’t wait all this time just for a blow job. Get on the bed.”

Slowly you withdrew your lips from his manhood and crawled up onto the bed. As much as Kakashi wanted to rail into you from behind, he wanted to see your face when he entered you for the first time. Cause it definitely wouldn’t be his last.

“On your back, Sweetheart. I wanna see your face.”

You nod and lay down with your knees propped up and legs spread. He settles between your thighs and slaps you clit with his slobber-soaked dick, allowing you to flinch from the strike. Your eyes are fixated on his thick girth as he lines himself up with your slit. You watch him begin to sink in when he demands, “eyes up here.”

Your gaze snaps up to meet his as your mouth drops into an O shape, brows furrow together and a shameful breathy moan slips from your open mouth. A stifled grunt from Kakashi lingering with it.

Your face was everything he hoped it would be. You paint the picture of pleasure while your pliable silken walls fold around him perfectly. He couldn’t help how his toes curled from the simple act of entering you. A mutual understanding that this would be the first of several rounds was silently communicated by nothing more than your response to his intrusion.

He slides back and forth, lubricating his length as he slowly acquaints himself with every part of your interior. Your core knots up each time he fully sheaths himself in your cavern, arms clutching him, forcing him down to your lips.

“Fuck Kakashi”

“Yes?” He bottoms out again pushing your groan past your tongue. “Did you have something to say?”

“Just fuuuuuckk.”

“Apologize for jumping to conclusions and maybe I can treat you this good everytime we see each other.”

“Are you fuckin serious right now?” You pant, sexual pleasure stealing all bite from your words. You are little more than a pile of flesh at the present moment unable to argue with Kakashi’s ego.

He leans closer to whisper in your ear, “dead serious” before leaning back up and establishing his pace. You know his mind is almost as clouded as yours from the way your bodies mold together. His usual calm and domineering demeanor faltered each time you squeezed around him. The pleasure creasing his features as he pushes into you, maintaining his tempo.

He shifts all his bodyweight over to one arm as he uses the other to grab your face, pulling you into him for another heated kiss. His lips working against yours, sucking off the last remnants of your chapstick. Normally he didn’t kiss his hook ups so much but something about you made him hungry. Maybe it was how mouthy you are. He needed to give your lips something better to do than shout your ignorant opinions. If that’s the case he’d kiss you for hours if he had to. Never able to get enough of the taste.

You thread your fingers through his soft hair. It was nearly dry and smelled heavenly from his conditioner. You push your chest up into his, allowing your tits to rock against his pecs with each thrust into your soaking wet folds. Little sighs and groans filling the space between you. He couldn’t help but think that you were the cutest fuck he’d had in awhile. Maybe he needed to piss you off more often since it got him here, between your legs, panting and moaning for him the way that you are. His eyes roll backwards as your fingers toy with the silver strands.

“Shit Y/N, on your knees.”

You comply with one last hungry pull at his lips, shifting to all fours. Kakashi grabs two fist fulls of your ass as he plunges in, hitting so deep you can’t breathe. The wind has been knocked out of you. It’s all you can do to catch it again. He lets his excitement get the better of him and launches into you with brain rattling speed.

He hit so deep he found a sweet spot that has been long neglected. One you can’t reach on your own. When he felt how you constricted around him he focused on it. Pummeling into that same spot, making you drop your face to the sheets. You cry out from the pressure and he knows you’re on the brink of orgasm from how white your knuckles are as they grip the sheets for support.

He smiled at the bruise he created in the kitchen while watching how your ass rippled violently from his hips colliding into it. His shinobi training allowing him to get carried away. Speed far exceeding any normal man. Your poor little cunt is no match for his unrelenting strength and stamina.

You start to scream from the stimulation. Kakashi fists your hair and yanks it back so he can hear your screams properly. Your cries are by far the sexiest sound he’s ever heard and he needs to make you louder. He needs to hear the power his cock has over you. Your current predicament, boosting his ego far more than it should ever be boosted. One arm tugging back on your hair, the other secure around your waist, he arched your back impossibly far, his tip displacing your cervix, you both speed to the precipice of orgasm. The squelching that omits from where your bodies connect, mingles with your moans and screams. Kakashi doesn’t think he’s ever heard a more beautiful melody.

All of Naruto’s more tedious qualities are completely justified in this moment. They are worth his patience if he can ravage you like this everytime Naruto throws a tantrum.

“That’s it. You can take it Sweetie Just a little more.”

His praise only continues to lead to your undoing. One hand clutching the arm wrapped around your waist while the other grabs around the wrist of the hand in your hair. Words aren’t even an option in this position. All you can do is empty the air in your lungs with whatever noise comes out. You are millimeters away from falling over the edge. Each thrust scooting you there. He’s almost there too. He’s losing his rhythm. His strokes are getting sloppy but it doesn’t do anything to dampen the intensity of the moment.

You cry out as the orgasm finally hits. You start to tremble and quake. Kakashi lifts you all the way back so you are flush against his chest as he empties himself inside of you. Deep groans fill your ears as your walls flutter closed around him, sucking out every last drop. You feel a rush of relief flood your core as his strokes slow to a complete stop.

The two of you kneel on the bed, you weak in his arms, as both of you catch your breath. You feel him grow soft inside your walls while a mix of both your cum slips out of you and slides down your inner thighs. Kakashi holds you tight, not letting go. He begins to kiss the curve of your neck making you close your eyes and moan some more.

“Thank you, Sensei” you breathe

“Mmmmm, you up for another round?”

“Already?”

You feel his length hardening again between your legs. He responds to your question by twitching his cock so that it tapped against your labia.

“Do I seem ready to you?”

You obediently lower back to all fours again, letting him slip past your lips a second time. He strokes in and out of you lazily as he says, “Brace yourself, Sweetie, it looks like we’ll be training all night.”

Masterlist

#kakashi x reader #kakashi smut #kakashi hatake #kakashi is daddy #kakashi senpai #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi sensei #hatake kakashi #kakashi x you #anon ask #anonymous #detective stucks

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mattluvr · 5 months

Text

home alone

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: after reader shows up at matt’s door, the two end up sharing more than a few kisses

SMUT!! (female oral, riding)

* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ * 。° 。 • ˚* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ * 。° 。 • ˚

a simple text later and i was stood outside matt's door, the all too familiar heat flooding through my body as i waited for the doorbell chime to play out. chris and nick were out at that very moment, as i’d been repeatedly told in matt's messages, the words home alone being thrown around quite often.

my fingers itched for him, my body craving that feeling of being pushed up against him, and it was taking every ounce of my willpower not to be courteous and to storm into the house. i needed matt sturniolo in every way shape or form, my body on fire as i waited for him to answer the door.

it felt like years later when the door finally inched open ever so slightly, matt's head peeking round the side. i could've moaned at the mere sight of him, but instead kept myself calm and collected, however hard that may have been.

"took you long enough, sturniolo." i taunted, my breathing becoming more and more ragged as the overwhelming crave for his touch encased me.

he could clearly sense this inevitable discomfort, opening the door painfully slowly until his whole body was revealed, another moan trying its very best to slip past my lips. the smug fucker was wearing an all black fit, sweatpants low slung on his hips, tattoos and veins on full display.

he looked me up and down, chuckling softly as he played with the singular ring on his pointer finger. "nice to see you too, darling."

and that was my breaking point; you couldn't really blame me for practically throwing myself onto matt, our lips forced together angrily, the delightful sound of kissing filling my ears. i pushed against matt, body flush against his, making him walk backwards into the house so that i could shut the door behind us with my foot.

his lips and mine worked over one another rhythmically, my tongue grazing his lips, his hands travelling over my body, clearly not able to keep themselves planted on my lower back like they usually were. a moan escaped me, happily greeted by a groan from him, turning me on even more if possible.

i could've kept sloppily kissing matt for eternity, but i wasn't complaining all that much when his hips bucked into mine, sending me stumbling backwards against the front door with a surprised grunt. so now matt sturniolo was pinning me against a door, lips now leaving subtle marks along my neck and down my collarbone, finding all the right places and producing the most satisfying moans. i’d never been more grateful to be wearing my black lingerie.

as matt continued to leave these lovebites across my chest, his hands, originally planted either side of my head when he'd pushed me against the door, were now on my hips, his knees now visibly sinking into the ground, lips no longer attached to me.

oh my god. i was about to be eaten out. i threw my head back against the door, shivering at matt's wandering hands and cold touch, his fingers circling the waistband of my jeans.

he lifted my shirt ever so slightly, pressing a soft kiss to my abdomen, getting lower and lower until his lips were in tact with the top of my jeans. "may i?"

i nearly came on the spot then, a moan in reply all that i could physically muster. so, with another one of those criminally hot low laughs, matt undid the zipper of my jeans, the denim pooling around my ankles, leaving me in only my black thong and a pair of crocs on my lower half, the latter immediately being slipped off.

"oh, wow." matt chuckled again, his eyes bashful as he looked up at me from where he was kneeling on the floor. "all of this for me, sweetheart?"

"please... matt..." i said, voice weak, hands threatening to travel down to my underwear and do it myself if he didn't hurry up.

matt swatted me away, asking for consent once again before taking off my panties, eyes wide as he realised how drenched i was. but he was persistent, not put off in the slightest. instead, both of matt's hands came to rest on my thighs as he held me open enough for him.

"you sure you're okay with this?" one last check, making him even hotter, and i nodded in response. it was all i could apparently do, my speech seemingly robbed from me as matt groaned deeply before lining himself up, my cunt level with his face.

and so matt began... eating me out. he was experienced, tongue gliding over my entrance and clit, both throbbing in pure pleasure as he did so. this ordeal carried on for a few more minutes, my vocabulary reduced to a shaking mess of moans and 'fuck's' as matt's tongue dipped in and out of me.

one of his hands that'd been pressed against my thigh now came to my clit, two fingers rolling against it. it was the best feeling ever, my eyes rolling back into my head at the heavenly combination.

"fuck, matt, right there." i whispered, his groans against my pussy vibrating upwards, ehancing the pleasure. "oh my god, i'm so close."

matt hummed against me, eyes flickering up to admire the damage he'd managed to cause with a singular tongue and hand. "you've got this, baby. come for me."

"i'm... i... fuck!"

"come for me, y/n." matt murmured, and with one final flick of his tongue, i was seeing stars, that familiar feeling snapping, exploding everywhere. i’d never had an orgasm like it, breathing heavily as matt lifted himself back to face me, wiping me off his face with a small smirk.

"fuck, sturniolo. where did you learn that?" i pushed myself off the door, legs still shaking as i closed the gap between me and matt with a soft kiss.

matt smiled against me, his hands wrapping around my neck. he didn't answer my question, instead allowing his smile to morph into an almost devilish grin as he pulled back. "you up for round 2?"

i gasped, but nodded enthusiastically all the same. "fuck yes. but i'm on top this time."

"deal."

a minimal word exchange yet again, matt now stumbling backwards as i pushed him down the hall towards his room, our lips connected once more in a second display of pure sloppiness. his hands were up my shirt, cupping my breasts through my bra, and my hands were tugging on the hem of his shirt, asking for silent permission to take it off.

"mhm, y/n. oh my god."

i was going to take that as a yes. with a small giggle, i pulled matt's shirt over his head, discarding it on the floor outside his room. i then allowed my fingers to brush all the grooves in his skin, tracing his tattoos slowly, until they found their way to his jeans waistband, my two pointer fingers threading through the belt loops.

never in a million years did i think i'd be doing it, but here i was, pulling matt sturniolo into his room by the belt loops on his jeans, kissing him senseless. we were both breathing heavily as matt turned his light switch on, and i freed myself from his pants, taking my top off and watching in awe as he slipped his jeans off.

now matt was stripped to his underwear, with me left in only my bra, my thong still lying in a heap by the front door. matt didn't seem to be complaining too much though, his eyes travelling down to that area and back multiple times, a smirk adorning his face.

"you can take the bra off now." matt demanded, to which i complied, running my hand through my hair, satisfied with how matt's smirk wavered in response.

"fuck." he muttered, one hand brushing his jawline, before falling to the waistband of his boxers. "care to help a man out?"

i didn't hesitate, on my knees in seconds, shimmying the boxers down and smiling at the sight of him now also completely naked. he reached back and grabbed a condom from his desk drawer, handing it to me, allowing me to put it on teasingly slowly, praying to hear his own moans slip past his lips as i rolled the rubber on carefully.

he did moan, and he did curse under his breath, making me want to lean forward and just suck his dick... but i’d wait. i’d stand back upright and let myself be led over to the bed, preparing myself to ride matt until he was a moaning mess like i’d been mere minutes ago.

with a watchful eye, i followed matt over to his bed, smiling as he laid down, positioning himself so that i would be able to straddle him. i couldn't help but allow my smirk to double at the sight of matt impatiently bucking his hips up, a silent way of telling me to hurry the fuck up.

which i did, gratefully. matt was running his ring clad hand along his torso after all, making me more wet by the second, the urge to mount him strong. but, i was determined to prolong this teasing as much as possible, deciding to go in for a painfully slowly kiss, trailing my lips down his burning hot skin.

"y/n." matt's raspy voice cut straight through me, his desperate groans growing louder as my lips travelled down his neck, chest, stomach, until they paused, hovering over his dick with a growing smirk.

"please. i need you."

i hummed, the pads of my fingers inching closer and closer to the base of his cock, quite enjoying how matt writhed and squirmed under my touch. i never imagined i’d see matt in such a vulnerable, willing state, groaning as i tenderly stroked and rubbed. i could've kept going for hours in all honesty, my core aching at the sight of matt's head thrown back against his pillows, feeling slightly disappointed when his own hand came down to wrap around my wrist, pulling me away.

"you tease me one more time and i might come before i'm even inside you." matt whispered warningly, eyes narrowed.

i grinned, starting to readjust my body so that my legs were either side of matt, now hovering over his dick instead of my lips, laughing in response to this apparent threat. "i'd like that."

matt scoffed in reply, his hands finding their way back to the familiar grooves in my hips, rubbing the skin in slow, dangerous circles, producing a low whimper from me. "you going to ride me now or what?"

"damn." my own hands came to rest on matt's stomach, trying to ignore the way i throbbed for him. my next words were pretty hypocritical, therefore. "so needy, sturniolo."

"only for you, pretty girl."

pretty girl. yeah, i needed matt inside me now, deciding to communicate this by brushing my entrance against his tip, watching with bottom lip clenched between teeth as matt hissed in pleasure.

"what happened to no teasing, huh?" matt snapped, trying his best to not let his subtle groans weaken his threat.

i didn't even think to apologise, just repeated the action a few more times until i was satisfied that matt's moans were no longer subtle. then, softly, after a reassuring nod from the boy, i lowered myself onto matt's dick. slivers of pain overlapped the pleasure as i adjusted myself, the first few bounces slow, testers almost.

but, what with my wetness, my rhythm was easy to find, one hand planted on matt's stomach for support, the other cupping my breast as i threw my head back in sync with my moans. matt's grip was tightening around my hips, guiding me up and down with scattered grunts, his head too thrown back.

"fuck, y/n, yes." he managed to say, mouth open wide as he praised me. "keep doing that, baby."

"i'm... matt, i'm..." i gradually picked up speed, hitting the right spot continuously, my words slurring, incoherent over the loud moans cutting through me.

matt started to shudder beneath me, pushing upwards, tremors rippling through our bodies as we neared a shared release. i cried out, eyes squeezed shut, hands now gripping matt's on my hips. "oh my fuck, matt, i'm close. i'm there, i'm there, i'm..."

one last thrust from the boy, fingers making imprints on my skin as he bucked his hips, and i felt myself coming undone around him, shaking and whimpering as my orgasm hit me full force. matt must've been watching me, turned on by the sight of me releasing, because as i came down from my high, his face twisted into a look of pure ecstasy, finishing inside me with a low grunt.

heavy breathing filled the room as we came to terms with what had just happened, in a state of shock. slowly, i slid off matt, collapsing in a heap beside him. matt cleared his throat, a soft laugh escaping his lips as we locked eyes. "woah. that was, um..."

"crazy?"

"something like that." matt concluded, stretching an arm out, inviting me to nestle into his side, which i did, gratefully.

our panting soon died down, a comfortable silence settling over us as matt gave me a one sided hug, tracing patterns into the skin on my arm, kissing the top of my head affectionately every so often. i could stay like this forever, cuddled up against matt, listening to his chest rise and fall against my hair.

but, all good things must come to an end; with a reluctant sigh, i pushed myself off the bed, collecting my clothes from around the room, even going to the extent of putting a pair of matt's boxers and sweatpants on, not particularly wanting to make the long trek to the front door to retrieve my thong and jeans.

"same time next week?" were my last words to matt as i hovered by his doorway, eyes following him around the room as he too got dressed once again.

he hummed, looking up with a smirk. "as long as i get a blowjob. it's only fair."

"yeah, yeah, whatever, sturniolo." i laughed softly, pressing a quick kiss to his lips as he joined me by his door. "just don't be late."

"wouldn't dream of it. especially not when i know your lips are going to be around my dick."

with a roll of my eyes, another kiss, and some more gathering of clothes garments, i left matt's house, those last few words lingering in my mind. fuck, i couldn't wait for next week.

link to part 2 — the car 💗💓💝💘💞

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #smut #sturniolo smut #matt x fem oc

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seananmcguire · 1 year

Note

When I was reading the Newsflesh trilogy, I perceived a significant difference in approach to the story in the latter two books.

If you feel comfortable sharing, I am interested in hearing about the inspiration behind the trilogy's final product, with particular attention to how the fantastic ending of the first book may have challenged you to think outside of the box for its sequels.

Even if you aren't able to get back to me, Thank you in advance! Have a great day :)

Oooo craft question! Okay, so:

First, background. The Newsflesh trilogy consists of Feed, Deadline, and Blackout, published under the Mira Grant byline, and released in 2010, 2011, and 2012, respectively. I love them a lot. They're still very solid, and while I wish the world had become less committed to playing them out in real time (like, seriously, universe, a 10th anniversary edition would have been better than a real plague), I continue to believe they're some of my finest work.

Feed got me my first Hugo nomination.

Feed was also written before it was sold, which meant I wrote it with the full awareness that I might have to be comfortable with the ending falling exactly where it did on the page. So I did that. And then we sold it to @dongwonsong-blog at Orbit, and they made sure it became the best book it could be. Which opened the door to, yeah, sequels.

Books two and three were written with the knowledge that I would be able to finish the story and end it the way I wanted to, and that influenced absolutely everything. There's a lot I can't answer on a public platform--if you want something more in-depth, please email through my website contact form--but the books feel different in part because only Feed was written in true free-fall.

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magics-neptunes-things · 6 months

Text

Recovery

Hi everyone :)

This was asking by someone like probably a year ago, sorry for the wait!

Prompt : have you had a good day? I hope so.someday we can get something from one batlle x reader.where their teammates think they are doing something out of character. But are they really just struggling not to take their medicine?

Maybe it's a little deeper than I thought at first, sorry? But it is a subject that I master rather well so I may have been a little carried away.

I'm still open for any of your ideas or want :)

TW : Oral fight, angst, depression, treatments, swearing.

______________________________________________________________

You’ve never been good at dealing with your emotions since you were a kid. Even if you never lacked anything and your parents always wanted the best for you, you always had a part in you that made you feel that everything you did was not enough. Having a little sister who was successful everywhere you had failed a few years ago probably didn’t help much, especially when you saw how proud your parents were of her. You have always been in the norm, in the average. You always did everything so that no one would notice you, your fear of being a disappointment taking over from the rest.

It worked for many years, until you changed class at school for random reason and ended up with Alessia Russo sitting next to you. For a reason that you never really understood, she got soft spot for you and wanted to become your friend. From the height of your eight years you were delighted and you gladly let yourself be dragged with her on the football fields. That’s when it really started. You found a sport that you liked and something that you really felt good about. Initially skeptical, your parents finally let you play and you climbed the ladder hand in hand with Alessia. The only difference was that you were in front of the goals trying to stop the balls rather than trying to put them in the net.

You and Alessia end up splitting up when she flies to the United States and you stay to play at Chelsea. You were selected to join the national team of England as soon as you were old enough and there too you made your place. At the end of your contract with Chelsea, you signed at Lyon, where you stayed until the summer of 2022. Year of England’s victory at the Euro, in which you participated by playing all the matches until the final. These memories will remain engraved in you forever, but it is also from there that your anxiety began to overtake you.

You didn’t say anything first of all, claiming that it came from your arrival in Barcelona, along with your colleague and friend Lucy Bronze. The latter had taken you under her wing for a long time, having perhaps realized that there was more to scratch under the surface of your smooth and angelic smile. Or maybe Alessia asked her to watch over you, because despite the physical distance between you two, she’s still your best friend.

Alessia introduced you to Ona, playing alongside her at Manchester United for a while. You quickly fell under the spell of the Spanish girl, her good humor, her charming smile and the way she had to sincerely care about others were something we are not used to. She quickly admitted that the feelings were reciprocal, but the geographical distance prevented you from fully living your relationship. When you learned that Ona’s transfer to Barcelona was finally accepted, you finally decided to try everything for everything. Instead of taking an apartment for her, you and Ona looked for an apartment together in which you settled when she arrived in Barcelona.

A few weeks later you were both called into your respective national selections. You knew what was happening in the Spanish squad, Ona having already refused to go there by signing a first petition against its leaders. Her change of heart was very badly perceived by the fans and the criticism she received affected you as much as it did to her. But you have always done your utmost to support her.

Being separated from Ona was not easy during those weeks. You managed to escape from time to time to find each other again, but having not mentioned your relationship outside your circles of friends, you didn't want to be caught by someone. Not to mention you were worried about the possible repercussions for Ona if her federation ever discovered the nature of your relationship.

The first panic attack you had was at the quarter-final against China. The goal you conceded that day was the first of the competition and the failure sensation that gave you was such that you had to lock yourself in the toilet at the end of the game. This is where Alessia found you and you don’t remember exactly how she brought you back to your hotel room, nor how she managed to make sure that Ona could join you there.

The following crises you managed to feel them happen, it was usually the night before the matches, but you also had some after the matches. Lauren, your regular tournament roommate, never realized every night you got up to go breathe fresh air on the balcony, sleeping too deep for that. And it was a relief to you, honestly. You didn’t want to worry anyone, let alone be pitied. Not being able to manage your nerves was a new shame in your eyes.

Except that you didn't win the tournament, losing the final because of a goal conceded. Your fault, finally. None of your teammates told you but you didn’t need to. You knew it. After your last game, you quickly jumped on the first plane back to Barcelona and away from Australia. You rejected your girlfriend’s offer not to go to the celebrations in Spain to stay with you, swearing that you were okay and that she deserved to enjoy what happened to her. If you sincerely thought the second part of the sentence, the first was probably the biggest lie of your life.

When you got to your apartment, you turned off your phone and lived in the dark for two days. Until Lucy shows up in your apartment and fails to break down the door, sent by a panicked Ona not to hear from you. After looking at the mace informs that you were under the sheets of your bed, Lucy pulled you out and took you to the emergency room. They found nothing physical, so you ended up in the psychiatric ward, despite your protests. They diagnosed you with depression and anxiety attacks but allowed you to go out only on the condition that you take your treatment daily.

You did for many weeks, before you realized that it was tiring you and making your abilities on the field less efficient than usual. Spoiler : It wasn’t, but your tortured mind didn’t seem to want to leave you alone.

So, you stopped taking them. To avoid Ona’s attention, you were throwing your daily dose of medication down the toilet. At first, it didn’t change your mood but you felt like you had regained the energy you had before. Except things started to turn the wrong way little by little. The slightest annoyance affected you a little too long and you started to have insomnia again. You briefly tried to take your treatment every two days, but it was worse than anything. So you simply stopped and you tried to silence the aggressive comments of your brain towards yourself. You had worried your girlfriend and friends enough about you.

****************

"Oh god Y/N how are you so clingy all the time?"

The phrase of one of the staff members, thrown in the tone of laughter, makes you raise your look from the screen of the computer on which Ona and you were watching a film. Train trips to another city were always a time when you chose to do something together. No team member seemed disturbed by this, you and Ona were almost tied by the hip at this point. The other couple, aka Ingrid and Mapi are doing the same anyway.

"I- I just…"

Surprised by the remark, you get up without thinking from Ona on which you had leaned your head. But your girl struck down the other woman with her eyes and took you back with authority against her.

"No need to be jealous like that" Lucy jokes from the seat in front of you, where she settled with Alexia.

"I love my clingy girlfriend just like that" Ona points and then put her attention back on the movie, making you to do the same.

You do it without adding anything, looking at the screen, the staff member leaving you to go back to her place. Or at least that’s what you want to make the other believe, your mind starting running. What if she was right and it was too much for Ona? You couldn’t stand a break up with her, she’s your pillar, your beacon in the dark. You try not to let anything appear, from your hands that become sweaty to your heart rate that has increased terribly.

Lost in your thoughts, you don't notice the worried look that Lucy exchanges with Ona between the two seats. Normally, you would have started Lucy’s joke.

Your mind slows down when you feel your girlfriend’s nose briefly caress your temple and then leave room for her lips. She kisses you delicately, making you raise your look on her. Her eyes are sweet, her smile is tender and you can’t help but give it back to her.

"Mi corazoncita"

She whispers and this time you feel your heart racing with love. You are wrong to doubt the sincerity or strength of Ona’s feelings. She has always been there for you, for the best certainly but also for the worst. Especially for the worst.

****************

Unfortunately, these kinds of moments have become more frequent as the days go by. You have started to doubt each of the jokes that are made to you, you get lost in your thoughts and you regularly wake up in the middle of the night, the heart beating way too hard. It sometimes wakes Ona up and you pretend a nightmare, making her cuddle you and help you fall asleep again. When it doesn’t wake her up, you don’t have the heart to do it. So you sneak out from under the sheets to go to your living room and turn on the television, anything that would keep you from thinking again.

All of this added to lack of sleep makes you feel increasingly irritable. You lack patience during training and you even disrespected one of your teammates. You quickly apologized and were forgiven, but it was spotted by others. With the passage of time you started to feel like you were being put in the spotlight, just waiting for the other to make mistakes and point the finger at you.

This was not lacking in the next game, during which you conceded a new goal. Again, you’ve been in a terrible mood all weekend, just refusing to talk to anyone. The worst was probably the guilt that was eating away at you from your behavior. But it quickly became an infernal circle from which you couldn't get out, despite all the goodwill and hands extended by your girlfriend or friends. The worst was yet to come.

****************

You are in Barcelona, receiving the team of Atletico de Madrid. You didn't concede a goal that day and it was with great relief when you heard the whistle of the referee. Alexia scored a goal in the second half, which was enough for the team to win the famous three points. After greeting a few opposing players and congratulating your teammates (giving you a longer time when you found yourself against Ona), you and Lucy went to see Ana Crnogorčević with whom you played last year and whom you always liked.

The discussion was pleasant and you felt relieved and relaxed, like every time you won without conceding goals. While you were talking about Ana’s arrival in Madrid, the image you saw over the shoulder of your interlocutor was like a punch in the stomach.

Ona in full discussion with one of her acquaintances, Carmen Menayo. Really, you could have endured it since your girlfriend is perfectly entitled to have friends outside of you. But seeing that the other player had her hands almost everywhere at once on the body of your girlfriend made you see red. If you had been focused on Ona’s face you would have seen how uncomfortable this behavior made her, but that was the cork of your insecurity bottle.

Unable to see anything else, you only come back to yourself when you realize that Lucy is dragging you somewhere else.

"Come on Kiddo"

Once again your mind is blurred until you find yourself at home, in your apartment, without Ona. Where is she? Certainly enjoying her friend, having a good time with someone in a good mood. Someone who would make her happy. Someone who wouldn’t be you.

The mixture of anxiety, anger and all that has accumulated in recent weeks is about to make you lose your footing and, in a desperate attempt, you begin to walk. You promised Lucy it was okay and you sent her home, even if you don’t remember it right now. You must have been convincing, because she knows full well what happened at the Euro and what you are suffering from.

A few minutes later, the front door finally opens to a hesitant Ona. Needless to say, those minutes seemed like hours.

"Where have you been?" you ask a little too aggressively when you turn to her.

"The girls told me you went home with Lucy, so I showered and come home."

Ona's voice was soft as she drops her bag next to the door. You answer nothing, content yourself with a sarcastic snort. Of course, they were on her side. Could you blame them? No, obviously not. They knew Ona and also knew she deserved better than you.

"Maybe if you had been less busy with your friend, you would have seen me leave."

The sentence was scathing, filled with bitter sarcasm. The quotation marks you used with your fingers when you said the word "friend" might have been funny if it wasn’t so dramatic.

"What are you talking about, Bebita?"

Ona approaches you and tries to place a hand on your arm, but you quickly release her contact.

"Don’t fucking touch me."

An alarm siren has been on for a few minutes in your head, but you ignore it prodigiously. The sensations you feel in your belly are such that you wonder by what miracle you haven't vomited yet.

"By the way, what are you doing here? You should have gone to your bitch’s house, probably had a better night than here with me. Isn’t it what she told you?"

Despite your accusatory tone, Ona has the merit of not getting upset. But you’d rather see her yell at you than see her eyes filled with tears.

"You talk nonsense. Listen, everybody’s worried about you, you haven’t been yourself for a while. Maybe... Maybe you should ask someone for help?"

Tears roll down her cheeks and it’s too much for you. Ona should not have to cry because of you, she is the sweetest, kindest and simply the most perfect girl on earth. The reaction you have, by contrast, is probably the stupidest possible. Trying to push her away from you is probably not the best thing. And yet.

"Not yours anyway. I don’t need you."

"Y/N..."

"No, Ona. The truth is, it’s not that I don’t need you, it’s that I don’t want you here."

You found yourself screaming without even realizing it and the silence that ensued was like death. You may never be able to erase Ona’s expression from your mind. After these few seconds suspended, Ona turns the heels and disappears through the front door of your apartment.

*************

You didn’t hear from Ona in the next days, but it would have been complicated anyway since you threw your phone against a wall shortly after she left, with some other things. Then, you spent your nerves on the cushions of the sofa in your living room before falling into tears when you saw the photos that Ona had taken the habit of hanging on a wire held with tweezers above your television.

Ona didn’t come back either, but that didn’t surprise you. You ruined everything, like every time. Someone knocked on your door several times but you didn't answer, staying motionless, lying on the floor of your kitchen or prostrated in your bathroom. You knew perfectly well that it wasn’t Ona, if it had been her she would have opened the door.

After the game against Atletico, you had two days off and you imagine that your lack of response didn't intrigue many people. Given the fight you had with your girlfriend, they must think you don’t want to see anyone. Girlfriend? Ex, maybe. You don’t know anymore.

On the day you resume training, you completely lost track of time. Daylight then street lights illuminate your ceiling and change the vision of things, but that’s about all you see. You didn’t eat, you didn’t drink, and you couldn’t tell how long you slept. The pain, the emotions have gradually given way to a general anesthesia thanks to which you no longer feel anything. Physically as well as emotionally.

The evening of the day of the resumption of training, you are awakened by the door of your apartment that opens while you were lying in the floor of your kitchen. The footsteps are too heavy for it to be Ona. You don’t even turn your head, too absorbed by the images projected on the ceiling.

"Bloody hell Y/N, what the fuck?!"

Alessia.

Your best friend appears in your field of vision and watches you with a mixture of fair and relief. What is she doing here?

"I came to see if you were still alive, you idiot. Everyone is freaking out and thinks you’re drowning in your bathtub."

You hadn't realized that your thoughts had been spoken aloud.

"It might be better."

Your voice is a whispers. Alessia looks at you from her height and ends up lying next to you, on the cold tiled floor of the apartment you shared with Ona. A few minutes passed and Alessia ended up speaking again.

"You’re in a terrible state. And I’m not talking about your physique."

You don’t answer. You know that.

"You need help, Y/N"

She takes your hand in her and you take a deep breath and close your eyes. You know that, too. But just because you need it doesn’t mean you want it.

"Where is Ona?"

"At Alexia’s."

You imagined that the Latin girl had gone to live with someone else, but during these three days you had imagined her at Menayo's. Knowing that she wasn’t relieves you, even if talking about her lights a flame in your throat that you can’t swallow.

"I've lost her"

It’s not a question you ask Alessia, it’s a statement you make out loud. The blonde sighs and turns her head in your direction. You imagine her thoughts very well, she deserves better than what you are. (Spoiler bis : This isn't what Alessia thinks for a second)

"I’m going to get you out of this apartment and you’re going to go into a place to really heal yourself. Then we’ll see what we can fix."

Except, you don’t want to. Regaining some energy, you shake your head and sit down abruptly and grab her arm.

"No. Don’t make me go to one of these centers, I beg you, Less, please. I’ll do whatever you want."

Your despair seems to touch your best friend, who hesitates, looking at you. She also sat down and bite her lips. You whisper one last plea and she sighs as she passes a hand through her hair.

"At least I’ll take you to the hospital. Maybe they’ll keep you for a few days, but as soon as you get out, I need you to swear to me that you’ll follow your treatment and go to a psychiatrist. It’s not a shame, if you knew how many players should do it too. No one will love you less because you get treatment."

*********

You stay four days in the hospital and Alessia stayed with you until the third day. From there she had to go back to London and you almost threw her out. You refuse that she has any professional difficulties because of you. Your visits are regulated and you had to choose four unique names. Alessia, Lucy, Alexia and Ona. The latter has still not come to see you and you hesitated for a long time before adding her to your list. In the meantime, Alessia had your phone repaired but you weren’t allowed to use it until the last day.

The club masked your absence at training by mentioning an ankle injury, thanks to Lucy’s responsiveness no one noticed your trouble in the last game. Plus, if you have to miss several weeks, it will not seem too surprising. It’s a relief for you, even if you agreed to get treatment, you don’t want the general public to know about it for the moment. Maybe later.

Since you can’t contact Ona by text or phone, you decided to write her a letter. Alexia promised to give it to her, but you are aware that this doesn't mean that she will read it. You often ask your captain about Ona. You know she sleeps at Alexia's sometimes, your's or her parent's. On the third day, you asked Alexia if she thought Ona would come to see you here. Hoping to see her figure walk through the door to find you with one of your three friends was sometimes difficult.

"She needs time" Alexia replied.

You noded, knowing it was perfectly selfish of you to want her here. In your letter, you apologized at length for your behavior and explained everything that happened to you in the last few days. And you told her how much you miss her, too. The discussions you had with the hospital psychiatrist also helped you a lot.

"Have you ever thought about quitting football?"

"What?! Of course not. Football was the reason I met the most important people in my life. It’s the only area where I’m not too bad."

She thought for a few seconds before continuing.

"Okay. But the way you throw yourself under the bus with every goal you take, it’s not healthy. We have to find a solution so that you stop living every goal as a failure."

That was the crux of the problem, unfortunately. But with your new treatment, which you were taking with attention this time, it seemed that you could be a little more optimistic.

***********

On day four, you were allowed out in the late afternoon. In the morning, you were able to get your phone back and with Lucy by your side you turned it on. The number of notifications was such that it crashed and you had to turn it back on. You received countless messages before and after your hospitalization. Ona’s were the hardest to read, of course. After you were hospitalized, she stopped writing to you and the first thing you did was look for her social media accounts. Since the game, she hasn’t posted anything.

You then replied to some of the messages you received, to Alessia or some of your teammates for example. Family and friends, too. With your psychiatrist, you decided to limit social media. So you have removed Twitter from your phone, limited comments on your Instagram posts and your TikTok account is only used to watch videos anyway. You never posted anything with it.

It was Alexia who came to pick you up at your exit and it was good to breathe a little fresh air. You climbed into her car, realizing soon after that she was not going to your apartment or hers.

"Where are we going?"

Curiosity outweighed anxiety, but you didn’t ask yourself where you were going. A look in her direction is enough to remove you from the head she was taking you straight to a rehabilitation center. This treatment was truly miraculous.

"You will see"

The answer was simple, but addressed with a smile that relaxed you quickly. It didn't stop your curiosity but when you left the city, you understood before even arriving at the destination. Alexia was taking you to Villassar de Mar, Ona’s hometown.

"Will I see her?" you asked after a few minutes

Alexia replied with a simple nod, startling when she saw you suddenly stand up on your seat.

"I can’t see her like that, look how dressed I am"

Alexia’s gaze slipped on your clothes, jeans and a sweatshirt that you just stole from Ona. You obviously took a shower before going out, but still. You are far from perfect.

"We don’t care Y/N, really"

"At least let me buy her flowers"

Alexia roll her eyes, but she smiled and stopped at the shop you mentioned to her. This is Ona’s favorite, in one of the villages close to her parent's. On your first date she stopped by and gave you a bouquet of mixed flowers. She told you that she didn’t know which flowers you preferred but that she found those very beautiful.

Needless to say, you opted for the same bouquet.

Arriving in Villassar de Mar, Alexia doesn't take you to your in-laws as you had imagined. She drops you off near one of the beaches full of memories for Ona and you. The windy weather took everyone away from the beach, except for a silhouette that you would recognize between a thousand. Sitting against one of the rocks that delimits the small cove, Ona looks towards the horizon.

When you see her, you feel a form of stress taking hold of you, but different from the anxiety that persisted in recent weeks. You bite your lips before feeling Alexia's arm around your shoulder, taking you for an hug.

"You’ve come a long way Y/N. We’re all very proud of you."

You don’t need to look her in the eye to check the sincerity of her words and you offer her a shy smile. With that, she gently pushes you towards the beach and you slowly break the distance between Ona and you, playing nervously with the stems of the flowers that you hold in your hands.

The wind blows a little, blowing Ona’s hair. Arriving at one meter behind her, you are not sure that she heard you. You let a few moments pass during which you take the opportunity to look at her. She looks tired, not to say exhausted. A new wave of guilt takes hold of you and you take one last step before reporting your presence.

"Hi"

She gently turns her gaze towards you and the strength of your feelings for her hits you hard.

"Hi"

She answers you gently and after a few seconds a slight smile appears on her lips. His eyes run through your face and you clear your throat before raising the flowers in her direction, a little embarrassed.

"It’s for you. They’re beautiful, but not as beautiful as you?"

Ona laughs softly, but you see her hands shake when she grabs the bouquet to carry it to her nose and breathe the smell.

"Is that a question?" she asks over the flowers.

"No but pickup lines were never my thing. You do look beautiful though" you just answer without taking your eyes off her. "I missed you."

"I miss you too, but…"

You step forward to interrupt her, not wanting to hear what she is hiding behind this "but".

"No, Ona, please listen to me." You wait until she nods before continuing. "I’m really, really sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, scream at you, or make you cry. I will do anything if you give me another chance. I know it sounds like a creepy guy with dozens of red flags, but I swear I’ll do better than I’ve done so far."

The Latin looks at you while you speak before sighing gently and letting her gaze float in the wave. She seems to look for her words and you let her do it, looking at her face with intensity. You realize that this may be the last time you see her, you want to immerse yourself in her as much as possible.

"If continue together Y/N, I want you to promise to really heal yourself. I couldn’t stand a second time watching you self-destruct like you did."

"I swear. I’ll do it for you. For us."

You mean it sincerely and the strength of your answer seems to surprise Ona. It must be said that you have seemed unsure of anything lately. She looks at you for a long time and you let her do it, a little embarrassed. Your eyes find their path to your shoes.

"Why are you always so shy?"

Ona’s amused tone surprises you and in a second your gaze is back on her.

"What do you mean?"

"You never knew how to handle compliments, you always blush when I look at you, you roll your eyes at me when I tell you that I find you beautiful…"

You retain a grimace of extreme accuracy, but you are convinced that Ona has realized it. You answer her however, shrugging you shoulders. If there is a time when you have to be honest with each other, it's now.

"I never understood what you found in me from the beginning. I thought you weren’t as interested in me as I was in you and that the long-distance relationship suited you. To be honest with you, I was looking to have the most of you until you realized there are other girls that are much more interesting than me."

Ona frowns and gets ready to speak, but you raise your hand to ask her to let you continue. Now that you’ve started, you need to clear your head.

"I was always convinced that you would find someone better than me at some point, someone joyful who would make you happier. Last week when you started crying because me, I just wanted you to leave so you wouldn’t be sad. Nothing else in the world matters more than you and your happiness to me. I’m sorry I showed you so badly, I’m sorry I wasn’t up to it, for making you cry and for making you go through hell. I’ve only been sure of one thing in all this fog since this summer, it’s the strength of my feelings for you. I really want to build something serious together. You’re the love of my life, Ona."

It was random, probably said in a completely disorderly way, but it was totally sincere. You find yourself a little breathless after your tirade and you look carefully at Ona. She also seems to be breathless and a few seconds pass, only disturbed by the sound of the waves behind you. You realize that when she speaks again, she has tears in her eyes.

"You're enough Y/N. I promise you're enough"

She whispers but approaches you to take your face in her two hands. It is a tender gesture and you feel a pleasant warmth at the precise place where her skin is in contact with yours.

"And I love you too. We’ll get through this together. I promise."

You smile softly and nod at her answer. After these long monologues, you find yourself a little short of words.

"No more lies or secrets?" said Ona.

"No more lies or secrets."

A new smile exchanged before your lips finally meet, sealing your promises of eternity. Because she loves you as much as you do. And it will be forever you and her.

#ona batlle #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine

368 notes · View notes

zer05trange · 3 months

Text

Roaring Sea

II. Sharlotka

⋆｡°✩ (childe x fem!reader)✩°｡⋆

⋆｡°✩ premise: Tartaglia comes over to learn how to make apple cake. But is that really why he's in your bakery?

⋆｡°✩wc: 2.5k

⋆｡°✩warnings: fluff

⋆｡°✩ series masterlist

The dreaded moment had come. The day that you told Tartaglia you’d teach him how to make your apple cake, to get him to leave you be just two days ago.

Though really, you concluded that he wasn’t necessarily a nuisance. You may or may not have realized you have the tiniest, little, minuscule crush on the guy. The night before, you could feel how hot your face was once Tartaglia left the shop, and how you were ever-so-slightly flustered the rest of the shift.

It was nothing, you tried to convince yourself. All that happened was that you’ve seen him twice, he has some bizarre interest in you, and he’s just a pretty boy. Archons, you feel like a middle schooler, saying you kind of “like-liked” him, but you wouldn’t even go that far.

The first stage is denial.

You took some extra time to prepare during your morning routine, even donning a nicer outfit than usual. It's not that you look bad most days, you just decided to put in more effort. Even Ivan commented how nice you look you felt yourself getting sick.

This isn't you! You're business and success-oriented, wanting to be the strong and independent woman that you grew up reading stories of, like the one that ruled your nation. But, even the Tsaritsa has her harbingers.

You continue to stay in the mindset that this wasn’t going to be anything serious, you barely even know the guy so it’s not like this is going to become an actual thing. It goes against what you want.

What you’re pretty sure you want.

It’s 6:50, 10 minutes until closing time, and you take one final look at yourself before rushing downstairs to your bakery.

“Ivan!” You yell as you get to the first floor, “Do not turn anything off, I’m making some stuff after closing.”

He stares at you, wide-eyed, as he just shut off the oven for the day, “Sorry.”

“It's fine, just take all the tips and scram,” You say jokingly.

“What are you up to?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowed, “Are you expecting someone?”

“You’re getting nosey,” You remark as you put your apron on, “But, yes.”

You say the latter phrase more deadpan than the other, and that sets Ivan off, apparently.

“If this person gives you any trouble, just know I can wield a frying pan better than the Captain can wield a sword,” He exclaims in a jokingly prideful, yet brotherly tone.

His bold statement shocks you, “I’m pretty sure you could get put on a watchlist for saying that... but thanks.”

You shoo him out before 7, giving you a few minutes to yourself before anyone else was going to be around. You gather the needed ingredients and set out all your tools so you don’t have to fish them out as you go, and to keep your mind off of what disaster may ensue.

The knot in your stomach is too big to ignore now, and you want to hit yourself with how childish you were being. This isn’t you, you have to be possessed or something, you don’t

“Well, Ms. Y/N, you look nice,” You jerk your head up at the sudden voice.

You look ahead to see Tartaglia, the anxious knot in your stomach growing bigger by the millisecond. He isn’t in his usual get-up, but a grey button-up covered by an oxblood-colored scarf and black pants. His hair is slightly tousled, and his eyes appear brighter than usual. He’s so damn handsome, and this time you can’t just blame it on your bakery’s lights, not with your new-found revelation on this little crush you have.

“Hi,” you spit out as a result of your brain short-circuiting as it ran out of witty remarks.

He makes his way closer to you, this time instead of standing across from you, he comes around to where you are.

“So this is your domain of expertise, where you hone and master your craft,” He says, sparking a dismayed look on your face, unimpressed at his phraseology.

“Yes. Now, first, I want you to dice these apples,” You brush off his odd statement and hand him three red apples from your baking counter, “Then, you need to integrate the apples with this cinnamon mixture.”

“We are getting right to work, aren’t we?” He says as he takes the apples, “It’s like you want me out here as fast as possible, hmm.”

You chuckle as you get him a cutting knife, “You catch on really quickly.”

He laughs back at that, and your cheeks heat up further at his laugh.

“I’m going to mix all the powder now. Flour, baking powder, the good stuff,” You say as you move your ingredients closer to his working space.

You begin to tell him what you’re all pouring into separate bowls, meanwhile explaining to him exactly what you’re doing.

“So now, you are going to manually beat these eggs for a few minutes,” You speak up as you hand him a whisk. He gladly takes it and begins working, which shocks you. Most people would be reluctant to mix something for 7 minutes straight, but he was oddly compliant. Odd, or, you just can’t take the hint.

“You must have strong arms to be doing this for a living,” He remarks with a chuckle as he whisks the contents of the bowl efficiently.

“I do,” You say as you flex your biceps and forearms, half-joking.

You observe his actions, noticing that even through his shirt, you can see his arm muscles flex with each stir he makes. You suppose a toy maker could have built that much mass in their profession, but you’re too hypnotized focused on his actions to think much of it.

“Done! What do I do next?” You look up at his face, which dons a smile as he hands you the bowl, which was mixed well. And somehow, his cheek had a smidgen of flour on it.

“You uhm have flour on your face,” You say as you point toward his left cheek, wondering how it could’ve possibly gotten there. He begins rubbing his hand on his face, but seems to be missing the small part of flour on him.

“Did I get it?” You shake your head in disappointment. “Can you just get it for me?” He asks, causing you to sigh exasperatedly. You grab his face to pull it down with one hand, and you softly brush off the flour on his cheek.

While you're focused on his cheek, he is brazenly looking down at your face with a smile, almost waiting for you to look back at him. But as soon as you got your hand off his face, you went back to working on the cake.

“Right, So next we’re going to lay a layer of the batter down, then a layer of the apples, and repeat,” You bring the cake pan in front of you, “So you pour yours then I’ll put mine on top of it.”

He begins to pour a thin layer of the batter, and you then put a layer of apples on top of it. The process repeats for a while in a focused silence, and before you know it, you’ve placed your final layer.

“Do you want the honor of putting this in the oven?” You turn to him with the pan in your hand.

“Absolutely,” He takes the pan from you with a smile, and proceeds to place the pan in the oven. You turn around to begin cleaning up the space when you hear a hiss coming from Tartaglia.

“Are you okay?” You ask with an undisguised worriment in your voice, quickly turning around to look at him.

“I must’ve burnt my hand on the oven rack,” He brushes off with a chuckle.

“You didn’t use the mitt? The oven mitt right next to you?” You scold him, not hiding your concern.

You close the door to the oven and start a timer for 60 minutes, then rush over to the sink. You wet a nearby washcloth and bring it to him. You hold it on his burn, firm yet gentle, with a disappointed look on your face.

“Idiot,” You murmur, “You need to be more careful.”

He chuckles while looking at you while tending to him. You don’t find anything laughable about his recklessness, so you look up at him to express your disagreement with his mood.

As you dab down on his hand, you notice how he has two scars on his right hand alone. One sprawls across the back of his palm, and is lengthy, yet skinny. The other is so long that it disappears into his long-sleeve shirt, yet is thick in width. You don’t know him well enough to ask about it, but it does bother you how much care, or lack thereof, he put toward himself.

“Now we wait 60 minutes for it to bake,” You speak up, still focused on the burn spot on his hand. You take the washcloth off after a while, and go toward the main area of the bakery toward the stools in front of a counter, where you take a seat, “Are you going to stand for an entire hour?”

He follows you and plops down on the stool to the right of you, staring ahead at the wall.

“Who’s that? Is that your boyfriend?” He sings in a jokingly nosey tone.

“No, that’s not my boyfriend,” You scoff, “ That’s my friend from Inazuma. He taught me a few Inazuman recipes.”

“Ah,” He sounds almost satisfied with the answer you gave him.

“You’re pretty good at some of the techniques,” You look at him through the sides of your eyes, “Do you bake often?”

“I like to help around at home,” He answers, “My skills are nowhere near yours, and that's no small feat.”

“Thanks,” You respond sarcastically at his brag.

“What’s your favorite thing you make?” He asks, which actually causes you to think.

“To make or to eat?” You look at him.

“Both,” He says, with his eyes not leaving your face and form.

“To make, probably just plain cake, it’s not difficult and many customers enjoy it,” You gaze back at the oven, “I don’t know what’s my favorite to eat, I prefer to eat what others make for me.”

Tartaglia beams up at you, “Next time I’ll bring my favorite for you, my mother makes it so perfectly.”

“Next time? You’re bold,” You respond with a laugh as he still looks at you in adoration.

You cut the small talk and replace it with silence, as much silence as Tartaglia would allow, and fiddle with a decorative fake glaze lily in front of you. He just taps his finger on the counter top, almost impatiently.

You suddenly stand and make your way to the oven. You take a toothpick and check how baked the cake was, and you must’ve wasted a substantial amount of time, because the cake is almost completely cooked. You, unlike someone else you know, put on your oven mitt and set it down on the counter to cool.

You turn around to tell Tartaglia, but he’s already right behind you. A gasp of shock lets out, considering how stealthily he must’ve gotten right behind you.

“You are so "

“You’re so pretty.”

That got you to shut up. He smiles at how stiff you got from his sudden words as if that wasn’t a completely normal response to what he just said. And the way he said it so endearingly, without a hint of his usual teasing tone, sent a heat wave throughout your entire body. But, like everything else, you shut it down for your protection.

“If that’s your way of taking this cake home, you already have it. Share it with Teucer, and Tonya, and "

“No, Y/N, that’s my way of telling you that you’re the most beautiful woman in Snezhnaya. Or all of Tevyat, for that matter,” He responds with a serious, and slightly frustrated, tone.

“What?” Your voice becomes smaller, almost timid, at his sudden designation.

“You’re not serious, are you?” He asks, then pauses for a moment, “Y/N, why am I here tonight?”

“You wanted to learn how to make a cake,” You respond.

“You are so difficult, Лисичка, it was never about the damn apple cake!” He cries. By then, the two of you were just an inch away from each other, your exchange of exclamations causing you to get closer and closer. Your eyes narrow at his, physically questioning his statement.

“ just need to ” He cuts off his statement by placing his hands on your face and bringing it closer to his, before connecting his lips to yours.

Oh.

You return the favor though, and kiss him back. While still pressed together, he takes one of his hands and places it on your back, pushing you even closer to his body. He keeps kissing you, and you keep reciprocating, and that exchange continues. It continues while he walks forward, takes you with him, and presses you up against the closed oven.

He takes his hand out from your back and returns it to your face, caressing your soft cheek with his thumb. Your hand finds itself on the back of Tartaglia’s head, holding onto his thick hair as the other finds itself braced on his chest.

If you weren’t so lost in the moment, you would’ve freaked out at how toned his abdomen felt through his shirt, but you were too gone to focus on that detail. You let go for a moment, trying to get a breath of air.

He pulls away as well, not for long, and huffs out a breath of air as if he had won some sort of battle. You suppose he had, you didn’t play easy until you let him kiss you so abruptly, but you didn’t care right now. He begins peppering your face completely, from your cheeks to your nose to your forehead, before finding your lips once again and pressing his to yours yet again. You let out a quaint whimper, which he chuckles at through his mouth before you begin to guide him down a small hallway.

To hell with the plans you have. Fuck the loneliness and the walls you’ve built around you for the sake of business. This can’t hurt you too badly.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” You ask out of breath. He nods his head like an excited child, which you smirk at before grabbing his wrist and running upstairs hand in hand.

The cake could wait to be iced in the morning.

⋆｡°✩a/n: can you tell I hate writing slow burn >:))) I just cannot keep them apart!! Thank y’all for reading :) also! I finally learned how to work my inbox so if you have any comments, ideas, or just wanna chat, please feel free!

⋆｡°✩tag list: @inlovewithlondonn @zamorazz @ay4tou @kur0melon @boomie-123 @esthelily @i-simp-for-giyuu @itsflowerdomethings

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writefightandflightclub · 13 days

Text

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Eleven (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Genre: a LOT of angst, (some) smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list).

Author’s note: THIS IS THE FINAL CHAPTER YOU GUYSSSSSS. I'm emotional!

It has been a journey. As always, I would be super grateful for any comments / reblogs / asks you may wish to send. ILYSM!

Word count: 6.4k for this part.

Weeks pass following the sojourn at the beach house, and you return to your new, blooming life. The strange, suffusing peace you’d felt when you and Santiago finally said your farewells - in more than words - has faded, a barbed tension instead taking root. The sense of resolution has all too quickly transitioned towards sleepless nights. To worrying about how the Lorea job will pan out, and whether Santiago and your other, dear squad mates will make it out unscathed - if at all.

Your usual pleasures and distractions are little comfort, and it is worst when you are alone. You don’t even have the other dumbasses to lean on, the rub of all of them being gone at once hard to take.

The nights are when you worry most intensely. When the world folds in on itself, the outside dark and the interior of your own thoughts all you have to rattle around in. Your house has never felt more empty to you, in fact, than in these moments. Most of all though, it feels empty without him; even though he’s never set foot in it. Your hard-won sanctuary feels, with each revolution of the clock, more and more like a collection of rooms and corridors boxing you in, and less and less like it had ever held the potential to feel like safety.

Anything that you do in attempts to quell this gnawing worry only makes the hole inside you grow more and more apparent. The more you tend your porch planters, the more friends you have over for game day, the more you try to tell yourself that you have everything you need, right here? The further from the truth it all feels.

The truth, in this moment, is that you’d burn down the entirety of this new life you’ve built if it would get him back safe. Back home safe. And it only makes you more certain that there is no “home” without him. No true feeling of sanctuary or peace while he is in danger.

The more time that passes too, the more your worries for the mission eat away at you. Some nights, you find yourself sitting bolt upright in bed, the damp sheets tangled constrictively around your heat-tacky skin. Heart thudding hard in the roll cage of your chest. In these moments, that’s when you come closest to abandoning your new life entirely. To hastily stuffing a rucksack and jumping on the next plane to Colombia or Brazil, for all the damn good it would do.

But you can’t do that. You can’t let yourself be dragged back into his world of danger.

You’d gotten out, and wasn’t that the point? To stay out?

You know it’s for the best. Best for you.

Still… there is something which really scares you about this mission. You can’t shake the sense they won’t come back quite the same after this. Can’t shake the impending sense of… finality about it. Santiago has always pushed for more. One more job. One more mission. Has always sought to go big or go home. You’ve always wished he would choose the latter option, by the way, and for some damn reason, he never has. Maybe he thinks he has nowhere like that to go. Maybe the bastard truly will run and gun until it kills him, and the thought of him ending that way…

The thought of him ending at all…

It sends cold shivers down your spine. Spins a tight knot in your stomach which becomes denser by the day.

You are mildly ashamed when you tuck Santiago’s old rosary beads beneath your pillow, fingertips unconsciously snaking under it during the night to grip them tightly. To hold something of his within your grip, when he seems so out of reach, is priceless to you. He’d gifted the beads to you years ago. For protection. Now, you curse yourself that they aren’t in his possession. You don’t even believe in any of that, for Christ’s sake. But it sure would comfort you all the same, you reckon. If he had some reminder on his person of how loved he is. Of the people counting on him to make it back.

Of course, you’ve been checking your phone constantly. Even though they’d warned you repeatedly when they were about to go dark. You’ve braced for it. For a shock. A collision. Bad news. You’ve been unable to eat, sleep, think. And so, even when you finally receive Frankie’s cursory text that they’ve made it out -a simple helicopter emoji and a thumbs-up delivered from a burner cell- you can’t fully trust it.

That night, you still wake in a cold-sweat, chest heaving with ragged breaths. Feeling like the momentarily relief you’d felt must have been a dream, and that the visions of Santiago lifeless and cloaked in red are far more likely to be real.

You won’t fully believe it, you think, until you hold him in your arms once again. See him with your own two eyes.

You need to see him again.

The problem is, Santiago has never excelled at coming home. Has never excelled at joining the dots to realise he even has one at all.

You don’t know when the next opportunity to do that -to see him, hold him - will be. Don’t know whether he’ll simply keep running into yet another mission, then the next and the next and the next, his path leading him further away from you all over again.

You don’t imagine that he’ll find his way back any time soon.��

Turns out, you are wrong.

***

You are baking in your kitchen when you notice him, the window forming a perfect frame as he appears, stood at the mouth of your driveway. His head is tipped up towards the eaves of your house. A hold-all is slung over his shoulder. His unseated ball cap is clutched solemnly in folded hands - as though he’s rocked-up outside of church after a long absence, ready to repent his sins.

You aren’t able to tear your gaze away from him. It feels as though if you blink, he might simply vanish all over again, like you are so used to him doing.

Feet planted to the tiles, and without turning your head - without even blinking - you say your sister’s name out loud. Like you used to when you were small and afraid you’d heard a monster in the dark. And, coming to your side, just like she’d always done then, she follows your fixed gaze through the window. Right to the spot where Santiago stands, bathed in golden fall light like an epiphany - nothing monstrous about him.

“Oh, honey,” she says, placing a hand on your shoulder.

When she does so, you realise you’ve been holding your breath. Realise that your ears are ringing and your pulse is thudding in your neck. When you finally suck in air, its passage is stunted, your chest fluttering around it.

“Come on, kids,” your sister motions to your nephews, shooing them towards the living room with promises of cartoons and brownies. “We’ll give you some space,” she whispers across to you as she seamlessly shuffles the troops out. “Will you be okay?”

You finally turn to her then. Manage to tear your eyes away from him. When you do, whatever expression is rendered on your face causes her to shoot you a look of sympathy.

At first, no sound comes out when you try to respond, your lips quaking around the words. You try again, and it is better, though still croaky. “I have no idea.” You don’t know what you are feeling. All you know, is that when you settle your hands on the edge of the counter, they are shaking.

After a quick visual check, across the hall to the kids, once again your sister slots in at your side, squeezing your shoulder in reassurance. She dips to give you a quick kiss on the cheek, cupping the crown of your head. “Here. Splash your face,” she encourages, turning on the cold faucet and guiding you until you oblige, the shock of the cold water pooling in your cupped palms bringing you back to your body. The pleasant cool against your cheeks providing you some relief. You dry your face off on your sleeve. Rub your palms against the legs of your worn jeans. “I’ll be right in there.” She nods her head in the direction of the living room. “Any funny business, I’ll kick his damned ass all the way back to Colombia. Alright?”

It occurs to you that you love her dearly.

You nod and, satisfied, your sister vacates the kitchen. You watch her disappear through the mouth of the door frame, and, by the time you look back at Santiago, he is taking his first steps down your driveway.

Pressing your palms to your cheeks, you look helplessly back and forth; between him, and the door through which your sister had retreated. You don’t know what to do, exactly.

You weren’t expecting this.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia never comes home.

Santiago is never walking towards you; he is only ever running away. And now, here he is about to walk through your door? To make the house you’ve bought sing, for better or worse, with the pain of all the empty space still contained with it?

Like the Lorea job, this moment has a dreaded sense of finality to it, you think. Like this completely insignificant - yet wildly momentous - occasion is either about to slot everything you’ve ever wanted into place; or, to make any hope of it crumble into pieces.

Until so very recently, you’ve never had to think about how your story ends. Whether it will end up happy. You’ve simply been trying to survive the fraught middle.

Well, here Santiago is. He’s made it back to you.

You feel like you’re about to find out once and for all.

And so, you do the only logical thing you can think to do.

You run.

***

This is the one, he thinks as he pulls up to park, checking the mailbox numbers against Frankie’s text. This is the house.

He sits in the rental truck a good few moments longer than necessary before climbing out, grabbing up the navy hold-all from the backseat and turning towards the mouth of your driveway.

This is the house.

It’s the kind of house he’s always feared for what it represents - a commitment - and yet, now that he is stood here, looking-up at the structure in the flesh, it doesn’t look quite so fearsome as he’s always imagined.

He gives it a scan over, looking for signs of you. Sure enough, he notes that your lawn is the most unkempt on the block. That your porch hanging-baskets, filled with colourful lantanas, are bursting and full. Your drive is cluttered with strewn kids’ bicycles. And, the front door is painted in a bold hue that only you would have picked out, stood in stark defiance of the glum, muted tones along the rest of the row.

This is the house.

And it is perfect.

It is somehow still you, already - even from the outside. Santiago always thought that moving forward meant changing - losing something of yourself - but he is pleased to note he still recognises you in all of this. That, despite the white picket fence surrounding your garden, it no longer represents a perimeter he dare not cross.

Even so, Santiago freezes there for a moment. He finds his feet won’t quite carry him willingly over the threshold from the street to your property. He takes a moment to drink it in instead. To look at what you’ve done for yourself. What you’ve created. What you’ve chosen. Santiago has always, on some level, worried that he couldn’t give you the life you deserved; but it’s clear to him now that he didn’t have to, because you’ve built that for yourself.

As if anything could stop you.

You have a yard. You have a white fucking picket fence wrapped around it.

He half-snorts to himself. Shaking his head softly in disbelief.

Still, it is there in the back of his head. That small, constant niggle. Even now, Santiago has half a mind to run. This house, to him, represents a place of innocence. Represents a new start and a freshness - one that he would never wish to soil with his bloodied hands. He tries to imagine being inside the house, with you, and yet all he can envision is himself dragging his red, bloody palms all along your pristine white walls. All he can see is him staining this life you have built. Bringing the blood and the dark inside, the way it inhabits the interior of him.

He almost does too. Almost turns away.

Old habits die hard.

All of his fears and insecurities reliably surface, and he imagines the hold-all he is arriving with is the weight of all of his past baggage. He considers - for a moment - whether he would rather have the memory of you from the beachouse, asleep and naked, bathed in golden light and sea breeze, to be the last one he ever holds of you. Wonders if it might be eminently easier that way.

He thinks about it; but then, he sees you through the window. In the kitchen. Turned away from him, but still unmistakable.

He smiles wistfully. And he starts walking.

He knows he can’t possibly turn away from you now. There’s no damn way that the back of your head can be the last image of you he sees; and so, he is driven onwards. Now, more so than ever, Santiago knows he needs to face you.

He fixes his eyes on the path ahead, then. Continues walking, his thoughts abuzz with how he’s going to greet you. How he’s going to explain himself for turning up unannounced, somehow both early and overdue all at once.

His thoughts are cut short and his plans entirely foiled, however, when a body slams up against him. For a split second he wonders whether he is getting football tackled to the floor, but he knows, even as you are crushed up against him and your face is indiscernible, that it’s you. He would know the weight and shape of you against his body anywhere.

You run to him and you hug him, your cold cheek pressing up against his own. Your hands clawing into the back of his navy bomber, and your arms squeezing him with enough force that he abruptly - a bit winded from being body-slammed - drops the hold all to the floor like he’s finally letting go of all his bulllshit. Drops this precious cargo like there’s something far more precious to cling on to after all.

You pull away from him as he coughs emphatically from the chest-slam, clearly examining him to see if he’s in one piece. Your eyes rove over every inch of him - like they used to do when you would “buddy up” to check for injuries in the field. Instinctively, he attempts to mentally catalogue his own injuries too. He finds that he doesn’t feel hurt at all, no; but that he does feel entirely raw. Vulnerable, like a singing open wound as he sees your face again, emotion shining in your eyes like a sea at the edge of his land.

“You asshole! You’re okay? You’re really okay?” You tug on his lapels, hands fisting there like you’re trying to shake some sense into him.

“Went off without a hitch,” he reassures, hoping you don’t notice the way his voice breaks as you drag him back into your arms again. This time, too, Santiago’s arms loop around you in return, his eyes slowly closing as he takes a deep inhale from where his face tucks neatly into the crook of your shoulder, your familiar scent unravelling the tight knot in the pit of his chest. He wasn’t hurt, no; but nor was he okay. Knew that he wouldn’t really be okay until he was by your side again. That he never really had been.

“You got out clean?” you ask urgently, this time pulling away to smooth your palms over his lapels, undoing the disarray you’d caused.

He nods. “We don’t leave messes,” he opts to say assuredly, channelling Benny for a boost of confidence, as though luck hadn’t had a considerable amount to do with it.

“Yeah?” You examine his face for any sign he is smoothing over the truth of things, and he breathes a sigh of relief as his contrivedly neutral expression seems to satisfy you. “You got fucking lucky, you know that? Nothing got hairy?”

“Oh, it got fucking hairy. Cat almost tanked the chopper, for one thing.”

You tut emphatically. “Bull shit. That’s Cat slander and I won’t have it. Tell Ironhead to get the bastard better equipment next time, huh?”

Santiago likes this. Likes that no matter how long it’s been, you always greet one another like you’re mid conversation. Like despite the miles and countless moments which have passed, you were just in the middle of something.

Still… the suggestion of a “next time” drives a wedge through the space between you.

Next time.

One more mission; then another, and another, and another. Right?

Running in goddamn circles. Chasing his tail.

You sniff, and he watches your valiant attempt to shake it off, still staring at him with a misty look in your eye like he’s come back from the dead. You fold your arms across your chest, perhaps in efforts to subdue your initial, reckless affection. You toss your head over your shoulder, towards the wide open front door. “So. Y’ coming inside?” You nod down at his hold-all. “Or… do you have somewhere else to be?”

Santiago purses his mouth. Drops his gaze to the hold-all and stoops to wrap his fingers around the rough, looped handles. He feels the itch in his feet again. The urge to run. Sees the window open - his chance to escape. It wouldn’t take much. An easy, casual: yeah, I have a flight to catch. His age-old tricks. But at the same time he sees that window open, he sees your open door in view. The warm glow and invitation of your house beckoning him inside. The warm glow and invitation of you.

How could he possibly have anywhere else to be?

“I’d love- I mean, yeah. If I’m not intruding.”

You simply roll your eyes and -he’s pretty sure- mumble “idiota” under your breath. But, before he can wonder, you are taking him by the hand and leading him into the house.

He follows.

It’s a while since he’s followed you anywhere, but he does it now without a second thought.

Like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Still. It should be a relief of sorts and yet… He feels his pulse quicken. Feels nerves twist in the pit of him - and he knows fine well it’s illogical. Knows it makes zero sense to fear a physical building.

But… no, that’s not quite it, is it? That was never it. His whole adult life, Santiago has been afraid of something far deeper than that, hasn't he?

Those feelings and fears, however, begin to drop away like leaves from a fall tree the moment he steps inside. From the moment you fuss his jacket off of his shoulders and hang it on the single empty coat hook, as though there’s been a space reserved for him all along. From the moment the wafted scents of home-baking and you fill his lungs he feels…

He feels… not quite ready to name what he feels yet; but he does acknowledge the lump lodging in his throat when he crosses the threshold, enveloped by the life you have been living without him.

You beckon him further inside, trying, to no avail, to prize the hold-all from his grip, so instead, tutting and letting him hang on to it anyway. Tugging the baseball cap from off of his head and throwing it in a spot right next to the key bowl, right before you instinctually ruffle his flattened, graying curls free.

You chat aimlessly - a natural and familiar commentary. He listens, but he’s also scanning, as per usual. Observing. Drinking the details of this house in. Taking in each framed photo arranged along the hall, curling up the stairs in a timeline of sorts. A record of your life. And, as he assesses, he stops dead in his tracks in front of one particular photo. It’s a buddy from years back. A friend you’d both lost to an IED. Above that, there’s a picture of you and Will standing jubilantly on top of a humvee, which makes his face split with a grin even as tears are balling in his eyes from the prior flood of memories. Beside that, there’s a goofy picture of you and him together, taken at his late mom’s 60th birthday. That one, in particular, makes him unsure whether to laugh or cry or both.

You come to stand beside him. Silently. Solemnly - as he saws a hand self-consciously across his stubble, not knowing quite how to feel amidst the concoction of varied emotions lodging in him like schrapnel. Fragments.

Meanwhile, you bump his shoulder with yours, before joining him in concentrating wistfully on the wall of photos suckering his attention.

Then, he finally places the feeling. He feels… like an idiot. For not seeing it before.

It’s your life, he realises. All set out here. Summarised. Catalogued.

But it’s his life too. It’s a shared life. He recognises most of the faces, events, occasions, and locations pictured. Feels the memories and emotions attached -his and yours, first-hand, second-hand - as his eyes tick over the display. Christ. He’s spent so long trying to run from you, hasn’t he, that he’s neglected to recall all the times you have walked side-by-side. He’s spent so long in staunch refusal that he could give you the life that you deserved that he’s neglected to realise that all this time, you were already building one together.

And oh boy. What a messy and complicated and hard and fucking beautiful life it has been.

All of that - he realises - is exactly why. Exactly why being here with you now, in this house he’s never even set foot in before, feels exactly like coming home.

For a moment, he looks at you, and -struck by you, like a gut punch - Santiago doesn’t know what to say. Quickly though, he remembers. Remembers that with you, it always feels like you’re right in the middle of a conversation.

He takes an emphatic sniff. “You’re baking?”

“Heh. Yeah.” You nod towards the living room door, from behind which a kerfuffle of cartoons and chatter is sounding, he clocks. “My nephews are here.” You place a finger over your beautiful lips and lean in, like you’re telling him a deep, dark secret. “I bought a packet mix.”

Santiago can feel his eyes glowing at you like headlights as your cheeky, full-beam smile shines back at him, but suddenly, he’s no longer particularly inclined to hide it.

“So?” You press gently, as his knuckles almost whiten from gripping the hold-all so tight. “What brings you to this neck of the woods, anyway?”

His mouth drops open wordlessly. For a moment, Santiago legitimately forgets. Forgets that he hasn’t always been here. He forgets, in fact, that he’s here for anything besides falling to his knees and clinging to you. Anything besides weeping for joy with his head buried against your stomach. Holding you so tightly, to make up for all of the times he’s so willingly let you go.

Fortunately, the weight of the hold-all tugging at his arm reminds him of one more reason, which, now that he’s here, actually feels a hell of a lot more like an excuse. “I’ve brought something for you.” He nods towards the kitchen. “Can we..?”

The kitchen is the heart of the home. It’s the heart of your home, and it’s the place where so far - recently - Santiago has tried to possess you, claim you, blame you, plead with you, and appease you. As though your body carries the memory of that you nod, tension pinching your face, and he clocks a swallow of apprehension darting abruptly down your throat. Still, you gesture for him to enter, and he follows closely behind.

“It’s weird that the kitchen’s at the front of the house, right?” You waffle, banaly. “But I like it. Feels more open. I like looking out at the front yard when I-”

“-Cook-up a storm?”

You scoff; not likely. “Throw away my pizza boxes.”

With your quip, mirth lights his eyes; yet - as ever - Santiago remains laser-focussed on his mission. He lifts up the hold-all, and plonks it down right on top of your kitchen island. “Here.” He nods towards the bag as you eye it sceptically.

“What? Did you bring me your fucking laundry?”

“Christ,” he scolds, even as your comment raises a warm chuckle. “No. It’s your share.”

You exhale softly through your raised palms as realisation dawns on you. “Santi. What the fuck?”

You cross to the bag and unzip it, mouth dropping into an “o” and eyes bugging as you reveal stacks and stacks of neatly bundled cash inside. Immediately, you shake your head, holding your palms up in the air and thrusting them away from your body. “No. Hell no.” His face drops. “I didn’t do anything to earn this.”

Oh, that’s your issue? On the contrary. You’ve earned this a hundred times over. “Oh, really? Remind me. How many times did you get shot, huh?”

You peer down to the bag again in disbelief. Santiago would continue to emphasise all that you deserve; but he can tell that you’ve already tuned him out anyway. He can transparently see the calculations ticking over in your head. What this money might mean for you. What you could do with it. Conversely, the strings that could feasibly be attached. The blood on it.

“It wasn’t just me. We all agreed.” He nods decisively, brows pinching down. “You and Tom get a share too. We wouldn’t be anywhere without you.” His voice breaks. “Shit. I wouldn’t be…” He simply couldn’t picture his life without you. Doesn’t even want to begin to try.

You drag both hands back over your head, elbows jutting out at sharp angles. “Santiago. I can’t keep this.”

He steps closer to you. Waits until your arms drop and cups your elbows with his sure palms. “So donate it. Set up a college fund for the boys. Whatever.” His eyes grow big and unusually earnest as he searches yours. “But would you please take it?”

He knows it’s hardly a drop in the ocean. That there is no way he could begin to repay all you’ve done for him. All he knows is that he wants you to have it. All he knows is that you deserve anything and everything he can give you, even if it’s never going to be enough.

Your hands are shaking slightly when you bring them up to your mouth, but he can see the beginnings of the cautious, giddy smile which eventually claims you. As you begin to accept this is really happening.

“You brought cash? Seriously? You motherfucker.”

His throat bobs with a deep chuckle. “Why not? Wasn’t it you who said you always wanted to fuck on a huge pile of money?”

“I’m almost 1000% confident that was Benny.”

“Meh. Doesn’t hurt to have the option,” he teases, but once again, you’re no longer listening to him - not really. Your fingers are carefully gripping the lip of the bag and peeling it open, finally letting it sink in.

“Thank you,” you say resonantly, dragging your eyes up to him only after you have managed to push the words out. Crossing to him. Wrapping your arms around him, your fingers tracing over the ridged scar at the back of his neck, your voice turning wet. “But… You know that this means nothing to me, right?”His hand moves slow and steady, up and down your back. “You know that all I wanted was for you to come back?”

He holds you more tightly then, as your emotions begin to spill over, tiny fractures in your voice. You subdue it, though. You clear your throat. Compose yourself a little too quickly for his liking, his body missing the warmth of you immediately as you pull away.

“Since we’re doing gifts though. I’ve actually got something for you too.” You clasp your hands together, pleading. “And you have to promise me you’ll take it.”

You move only once he’s nodded, your serious expression compelling him into acquiescence. You don’t need to go far to retrieve it. Instead, you reach to fumble something out of your jeans pocket.

His eyebrows leap up towards his hairline. “Fuck me. Are these-?”

It knocks him for six as you unfurl a string of familiar black rosary beads, the loop penduluming from your thumb as you hold them out, offering them to him. Offering them back to him.

“You remember?”

He scoops his forefinger and thumb around his mouth, stubble bristling. He answers your question without even answering. “You kept them.”

“Well. Yeah.” You grab hold of his hand. Fumble his palm open and thrust the beads into it, curling his fingers back around them until he grasps on to them tightly. “And I don’t want you to be without them anymore, okay?”

Santiago is lost for words - his mouth agape. He shuffles from foot to foot in disbelief for a moment, before clamping his hand over yours, his grip as warm and sure as it’s ever been.

God.

You’ve loved him, haven’t you? You’ve loved him whether he believed that he deserved it or not. You’ve loved him every single step of the way. You’ve loved him even when he was difficult and stubborn. When he was in the throes of grief. When he was bleeding out from a stab wound.

You have loved him at his best and at his worst; and goddamn it, he has loved you back.

He didn’t do so before, when the thought had first occurred to him, but he does now. He does drop to his knees on the cold, tiled kitchen floor, wrapping his arms around your middle. He does bury his face in your stomach, holding you as tightly as possible.

He drops to his knees as though he’s finally repenting of his ‘sins’. He holds you now, to make up for all of the times he so willingly let you go. To show you - he hopes - how he never wants to let you go again.

Meanwhile, his gesture appears to punch the air from your lungs. Your hands hover -uncertain- just moments from him, and then, as you inhale, you must find you already know what to do. Your fingertips dip into his hair. Your palms cradle his head. He feels tears wet his cheeks as he buries his face in your soft, sweater adorned stomach. He silently rues every single time he thought he needed one more mission - and the next, and the next, and the next. Wonders how he’d believed all this time he was built for brutality, when, although his hands were trained to kill, they were made to love you gently.

“Santiago.” He screws his eyes shut at the softness in your voice as you sound his name, a roughly hewn sob gently wracking his chest. You say his name in a way he’s never heard it spoken, and before he knows it, you are on your knees with him, tipping his chin up with careful fingers until his wet eyes meet your soft, warm, bathtub gaze.

You stroke your palm down the side of his face and you nod, slowly, tears beading in your eyes too.

He knows what your touch is telling him now. What it has been telling him all along even whilst he was still too stubborn to hear it.

It’s telling him… That this is what safety feels like.

That he’s home.

You are his home, and what’s more; he is welcome.

He surges up onto his knees, pressing his chest to yours, winding his broad hands into your hair to pull you into an achingly raw, desperate kiss.

Your lips are a door. Your mouth a corridor. Your heart is a room. Your chest is his roof. He wants to live in you. Bury himself inside you. Wants to walk barefoot on your tender carpet. Wants to fill his chest with the warm rumble of a kettle. Wants to step into you like a warm bath. To be covered by you. Held by you. You are his walls. His sanctuary. All roads lead here to you, to this house; and they always have, even when he’d felt so lost.

He has never been home before; but this must be how it feels, he thinks, to finally stop running.

He kisses you, his urgency dissolving into softness like sugar into water. You kiss him back. It’s a sweet, tender thing, as delicate as the tears beading in his lashes.

“Santiago. Christ, your knees. Get up. Please.” You’re crying too, he realises. Crying as though you’re as glad as he is that he has finally arrived somewhere that does not ask him to wound himself. You cup his face again, concern in your eyes, but he slides his hand over yours. Tucks the rosary beads into his pocket, an item far more priceless than the - now forgotten - bag of money on the counter.

It has been a long road.

It has been a long time.

It has been a lifetime, and he sees now, that his road was always leading him to you.

Your gaze flits all over his face. “Heyyy,” you soothe, with a softness he finally feels he deserves. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah. I…”

“What?”

He fumbles a tear away from his cheek, a bright feeling bursting out of his chest. “Can I…?” He laughs, it feels so preposterous. “Do you mind if I… stay for a little while?”

Your eyebrows briefly pump up in surprise; but even so you smile fondly at him, answering his question without answering. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

You rise together to standing, chest to chest and still hovering moments from a kiss; and yet, neither of you are closing the distance. Not yet, not now, and it’s… actually a wonderful thing. To wait. It feels suddenly like there is time now. For the first time in Santiago’s life, it feels like there is a future. A future for him, instead of isolated moment after moment, grasped in haste. Instead of one mission to the next, to the next. So, instead of kissing you again; more; deeper; Santiago reaches up, the crook of his curled forefinger gently tracing the line of your jaw until you flutter your eyes at him bashfully. Until his mouth twists into a lopsided, disbelieving smile.

Then: “Oh-my-God-I’m-sorry-” your sister blunders as she unceremoniously cracks the door, poking her head rather unsubtly around it. “We were, uh, just wondering what to do. We were gonna put a movie on but…” - she looks pointedly between the two of you and clocks your proximity - “We can always clear out if loud sex is about to ensue.”

Next, she catches a glimpse of the bag full of money and her eyes bug, though she abruptly tries to cover it.

You tut loudly at your sibling. “Jesus. Would you either come in or get out? You’re like a little floating head.”

She opts to step gingerly around the door, looking all the more awkward for it.

“Hi,” Santiago greets warmly, moving in for a heartfelt hug which catches your sister even further off-guard.

“Oh, hi!” she says (as though she’s only just noticed him) before asking - maybe with malice, or maybe through sheer force of habit - “How long are you sticking around for?”

Santiago looks sheepish for a moment.

After all, he doesn’t want to tell you just yet.

No - he doesn’t want to tell you that he’s signed a six-month lease on an apartment downtown. That he’s arranged to get therapy from a guy Will recommended. That he’s started working his networks and shifting his money around so he can finally make the leap into consulting. That he’s pretty sure - as sure as he’s ever been about anything - that he wants to marry you.

Of course, he isn’t seriously entertaining the idea that he can simply turn up and upend your life. Doesn’t expect -would never expect- to have everything laid out on a platter for him. But, this time, he at least has the strength to stick around. To find out once and for all what might be next, after so long going round in circles.

That’s why he doesn’t even want to tell you at all. Not yet. Not now.

Instead, he simply wants to show you.

“A movie sounds good.” He twines his fingertips with yours and your sister’s eyes bug harder at that than they had at the hold-all. “I mean. If I won’t be intruding?”

He looks to you for approval, and he hates that, right now, the prevailing emotion he can read on your face is surprise.

“You can really stay?!”

It’s a far bigger question.

That much is obvious. A question he realises you’ve been asking him for a long time, in a whole host of different ways.

Looking at you, here and now, it’s so alien to him that he wouldn’t. That he would ever run from you; bail out; seek out other women; skip town; bury his feelings. All of that bullshit.

In his time, Santiago has jumped out of planes; has run into burning buildings; launched himself towards enemy fire. But has he ever let himself love you so wholly and recklessly? Has he ever been as brave as that?

So, Santiago simply gazes back at you. Smiles, rehearsed crinkles radiating from around his warm, good-morning eyes.

This time, he answers your question. He thinks you finally deserve to hear it. After all; you deserve everything - and so you definitely deserve this.

“I can stay.”

You don’t even respond -not in words - and it might be because finally, finally, there is nothing between you which remains unsaid. You simply squeeze his hand, just a little tighter.

Santiago has known you for so many years. Has known you as a soldier; a friend; a lover.

He finally has the courage to see you all at once, and, in the years ahead, he can’t wait to know you in all the other ways there are.

You lead him through the door; and he follows.

It always was easy to follow you. To love you. It was the running that was hard.

He doesn’t know exactly what will happen next; but one thing’s for sure.

You’ll always be his Ride or Die.

THE END

#santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac #santiago pope garcia #ride or die series

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idyllicdrop · 7 months

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fridays - second touch. | child! fushiguro megumi / child! nanami’s sister! reader

- content - y/n and megumi have become quite familiar with each other. gojo makes a discovery, and nanami is in denial. (~1.6k wc)

- cw - gojo; the tooth fairy/inaccurate culture; slightly ooc teen nanami?; megumi gets a bit overwhelmed; not proofread.

- 2/6 - previous - full series (in progress) -

- - -

“too slow!”

with a hard thud, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer once again tripped over a child that stood at not even half his height. gojo could only point and let out a nasally laugh at the fallen young fushiguro,

“shut it,” megumi dejectedly mumbled, quickly moving to get up off the ground, “you said i was improving last time”

“hmm…” the mentor’s voice went an octave lower as he continued, “and i used that exact same maneuver last time.”

megumi did not dare to say a word now. it seemed like gojo was genuinely scolding him - a first since they’ve started training. the young boy almost wanted to get angry since gojo’s most recent disappearances played part in this delay, just almost. megumi figured it was actually good to know gojo was getting serious instead of-

“you’re distracted~”

that sing-songy tone made megumi lose all hope; it was the last thing he wanted to hear right now. it seemed gojo actually isn’t taking things seriously. rather, he was planning to do something truly irritating to his mentee’s livelihood.

- -

“gojo-san left again?! that’s the third time this month!”

you stared in disbelief at megumi, who just arrived to your brother’s desk and opened up a familiar red notebook,

“it’s like this every month.”

megumi seemed to pay you no mind in favor of focusing on his homework. in reality, he couldn’t stand to say more words than necessary to you. otherwise, that ‘panic’ feeling from 4 weeks ago comes back, which he would rather avoid. especially in front of nanami, someone who megumi respected and was silently filling out paperwork across from you two.

“really?! when do you ever have time to train then?”

“he’s normally more free on saturdays.”

“oh! i seee…” your genuine curiosity was something he could easily entertain. the questions you posed were mostly direct enough to give a quick answer.

“are you sure you’re okay with going alll the way to saitama by yourself today?”

your concerned expression, and memories from a week ago caused megumi’s face heat up now: memories of you being awfully persistent about joining him on his almost hour long journey home, which while nanami disapproved of for your safety, megumi also declined because he’s ‘done it many times before.’ the odds were up against you, and ultimately you settled with walking him to the torii gates of jujutsu tech and ‘no further’ - a request he personally made.

“i-i’m sure.”

“but fushiguro-san, doesn’t the train at least get boring??”

the palms of megumi’s hands began to perspirate, and he realized he may have been too active in the conversation today. he was sure that if he attempted to reply to your question, his words would trip and stumble. while the young boy was mentally deciding if he should take that risk, the worst voice of all called out from behind,

“megumi-chan~ time to get to work!”

you gasped, stood up, and sped walked out of megumi’s field of view to greet the face you were long due of seeing,

“gojo-san!”

“y/n-chan!”

standing right before the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of the modern era, your head cranked up as you pointed to your mouth,

“i lost another tooth!”

“ooo, well remind the tooth fairy to pay her dues!”

“that’s what i’m doing right now.”

nanami and gojo stiffened as the latter awkwardly continued,

“oh- uh… megumi!” the targeted young boy finally tilted his head in his mentor’s direction, “you need to be at the north field in 5 or i’ll tell y/n about your biggest secret!”

“ehh?!”

gojo’s deflection skills worked like a charm. you stood there dazed, thinking about whatever megumi's secret could be, which allowed nanami and gojo to not confront the fact that you found out the 'tooth fairy' was just gojo. another thing that crossed your mind was the cruelty of gojo for putting megumi on the spot like that.

megumi, who was now swiftly walking out the office area, kept his head turned down. his messy black hair over his face was purposefully obscured from the visible spectrum, but a certain six-eyes user could see beyond that.

“bye fushiguro-san!” you called out to your friend, not particularly expecting a response. as soon as he seemed out of earshot, you pouted at gojo and accused, “that was mean.”

“oh c’mon, aren’t you curious?”

“nope! if fushiguro-san has secrets he wants to keep, then there’s no reason for me to know if he doesn’t want me to!”

gojo let out an exaggerated sigh as he crouched down, quickly pulled something out of his pocket, and then discretely extended a crisp note out to you before whispering,

“just go get yourself some treats before nanami notices.”

“yay!”

you giggled, purposefully breaking the intended secrecy of the exchange. before nanami could say anything, you sped walk away, knowing your favorite vending machine was just outside the building. from a distance, you called out, “you are forgiven now, gojo-san!”

“gojo-san, i already told you not to give her sweets,” leaning back in his desk chair, nanami stared up at the ceiling while pinching the bridge of his nose and saying, “it’s not healthy for a child.”

“well if you’re so concerned about her than you should be interested in little megumi’s secret!”

“no i should not.” nanami immediately recognized gojo’s redirection tactics and tried to go straight back to the topic at hand, “please just do not give her-“

“megumi-chan’s got a crush on your sister~”

this time, gojo was successful. visible confusion filled nanami's expression right after. the blonde teenage paused for a moment to consider gojo's statement, before he then tiredly responded,

“they’re kids, gojo-san.”

“and one’s in love~”

“fushiguro is eight.”

gojo clicked his tongue and placed a hand on his hip before quipping back,

“you can’t tell me you haven’t noticed the signs!” gojo's other hand was now dramatically placed on his heart as he continued, “little megumi is always willing to talk to her. do you have any idea how hard it is to get him to talk to me??”

nanami sighed before noting, “that is not exactly an exclusive experience when it comes to you.”

“not to mention, he gets all red like a tomato around her!”

that nanami didn’t know how to reason away when gojo initially acknowledged it. he’s no doubt noticed, but also just never thought much of it...

“fushiguro doesn’t seem to have many friends…” nanami's new train of thought allowed him to regain composure, “especially of his own age. y/n is the only one around and they just started being friends. it makes sense if he gets nervous sometimes.”

with a cheeky smile, gojo turned around and started heading out, “i’m now 6 minutes late to training because of you! also, don’t get mad at me when the love birds start sneaking around behind your back!”

with renewed reassurance in his own stance, nanami easily brushed off gojo’s claims, and went back to paperwork.

- -

next friday, gojo satoru was called away, again.

“no homework today.”

you forcefully shut the red notebook before megumi could even fully open it. as he stood in momentary shock, you continued,

“gojo-san told me you haven’t seen the whole campus yet, so today i’m gonna show you around!”

that’s how the two of you ended up sitting by a koi pond, alone. most of the tour had been dead silent on megumi’s part. besides pointing out the names of different buildings, you talked nonstop about memories you’ve had around campus with other jujutsu sorcerers, students, and staff. you have had far more interactions with them in all of your brief and few visits over the years, compared to megumi's constant and prolonged ones these last couple of months. the dichotomy was telling of your different personalities.

the almost two hour walk around campus ended at your favorite spot: a koi pond. it was rather secluded and brought utmost peace. you ceased to speak for a few minutes when you arrived, simply enjoying the scent of fresh water and clean bamboo stalks. save for a buzzing bug here and a small splash from one of the fish there, a comfortable silence held the two of you now resting on a bench-shaped rock.

“i love it here.”

your interruption gave megumi awareness of the situation. you two were alone, quiet, and that felt comfortable to him, for a few fleeting moments. but then, that one panicked feeling was now slowly creeping - a contrast to its usually violent arrival. you continued in a soft tone,

“nii-san said this is the most beautiful place on campus.”

beautiful. something about that one word caught megumi’s attention. especially as he had the courage to now look at your tranquil expression, noticing your pupils constantly shifting as they tracked a koi swimming down below. all of a sudden, a conspicuous smile stretched across your face before you blurted out,

“y’know you can say something if you want, right?”

little fushiguro megumi immediately felt a lump lodged in his throat as he froze and stammered,

“um, i…”

the two of you were unknowing that a pair of teenage boys were now approaching your direction. one with a permanently plastered grin and the other with furrowed and tight eyebrows. the latter asked,

“was there even a point in asking me to help you find them if you already knew where they were?”

gojo only playfully hummed in approval as the two rounded the last corner to their destination. from the beginning of the small path leading to the pond, they could see the two children they were looking for. the two were sitting side by side, separated by only a couple inches of empty space.

one was stuck gazing at the other, mouth slightly dropped open, and the young boy spoke just loud enough for the girl beside him to hear,

“i-i like it here too.”

the teens observed that after megumi’s mouth finished moving, y/n’s posture perked up and she turned her head towards him. in the process, she noticed the audience out of the corner of her eye, and made a point to lean in, hand resting in the space between them, finger tips slightly grazing his before she whispered,

“i like being here with you, fushiguro-san.”

- - -

- the tooth fairy cw was mostly bc i didn’t think to look up if japan even has a tooth fairy child’s myth until after i already wrote the scene (and i love said scene very much). anyways, apparently they do not. whoops, my bad.

- also, in my mind, y/n uses gojo-san not to specifically respect gojo, but to mimic nanami :)

- also this is the last of them as little kids! megumi’s ‘troublemaker’ teen era is next.

- taglist - @hisheadismountfuji (feel free to ask to be added!)

#jujutsu kaisen #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #fluff #nanami kento #gojo satoru #childhood friends to lovers #y/n just wants to be friendly and let megumi to open up more #she thinks he reaally struggles with it but the truth is his ‘panicky’ feelings are too strong around her :)#gojo is a menace #(and a matchmaker)

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punkpandapatrixk · 8 months

Text

Full Blue Moon in Pisces ♦︎ Moon Magick Pick A Card

A Super Blue Moon such as this occurs once every decade, sometimes every couple of decades, according to NASA🪐huehue

Finally, with this Super Blue Moon in Pisces many kinds of generational curses and negatively-polarised karmic bonds CAN and WILL be dissolved. Weirdly persistent patterns of misery and misfortune will be broken and you will gain a renewed sense of being alive. This is an amazing period of massive emotional baggage cleansing.

Those who are especially spiritually inclined, some of you have dealt with ancient curses that either you have carried from hundreds—if not thousands—of past incarnations whilst some others have been transmuting those negative patterns in the bloodline you chose to be born into. For many people, this kind of scenario has caused a great deal of traumatic experiences repeating themselves within the interface of Reality they are viewing in this incarnation.

Fear nomo, bebeh~ That’s all done and paid for. You are now free. You are now safe to experiment with whatever Reality you deem fit for the Goddess/God that you know you are🌸

You are your own person now. Go live your Life. Make your dreams come true. Each one of us deserves to see a world of our dreams turn into Reality. Claim that, Honey. Manifest your own versions of paradise on Earth!💫You are protected by Divine forces~😉

[Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – The Brazen One

c o s m i c – V The Hierophant

Cosmically, you are being freed from the bondage of time. You were born into this world carrying a sacred mission. So strong is this sense of purpose that you grew up feeling constricted by time. You feel like, you’ve got to achieve some great things rather quickly—before reaching a certain age. You’ve always wanted to become a success—whatever that means to you or your society—at a young age. This fear of running out of time, or generally, this rushed necessity to scurry, is very debilitating to you on a psychological level.

I feel like, if you’ve indeed achieved some great things at a relatively young age, still quite none of it feels enough. You still feel lacking, like some grandiose things larger than life must occur. You’re haunted by some kind of potential you still can’t grasp yourself. The simplest doodle of an explanation to that, actually, is that you’re meant to be of great, great service to Mankind, with whatever talents you naturally possess since you were a child.

Some of you reading this may not want to believe this, but this Pile is for the Ascended Masters. Your Soul is either an Ascended Master or you are working down here closely supervised by a very high-ranking Ascended Master. The former scenario is more prominent for many of you tapping into this reading. You are literally a Bodhisattva reincarnated for a great purpose of healing Mankind. If you feel the latter scenario is more resonant for you, you are a sacred medium for the Ascended Master who couldn’t risk being reborn lest she or he loses themselves in this mortal world.

l o g i c – XI Justice

As you can see (if you could view the card on Patreon), Justice on this deck is quite different from its traditional depiction. There is an oracle who mediates the wisdom and impartiality of the Brazen Head as guide for Mankind.

And like the picture you’ve chosen, you have a mind that’s quite well-rounded. You have an innate ability to perceive the wholeness of an issue and provide insights or solutions that would be fair to most everyone involved. You are a peacemaker; a problem solver. And I think, this of you may not have been seen by a lot of people. Worry not, you’ve only been in an initiation phase. Your Light of Wisdom is about ready to be seen by everyone.

With this awakened sense of purpose, I’m pretty sure you will naturally, or maybe ever so suddenly, cease feeling bound by the constraints of time. Suddenly, you’re a new person without fear of limitations. You now understand that everything has its own time to be seen, received, and applauded. Even by logic you know it’s all gonna be yours eventually. I think you’ve fixed your relationship with the God of Time HA The clock doesn’t scare you anymore.

Justice will be served, my dear. If you’ve resonated this much, know that you’re about to get really busy in the coming months and years. Ascended Masters being born on Earth is no small matter. You will be seen. You will be heard. You will serve your purpose. You have no idea how many higher beings are working behind the scenes to make this happen. This is a group project; you just think you’re doing everything alone but that’s the farthest thing from the Truth.

m a g i c – King of Wands

Now, with all of your cards upright, I’d like to convince you that you’ve done the best you could with what you knew. To be honest, there is no more work to be done. You’ve worked so hard on yourself, your spirituality and psychology. You deserve to enjoy Life now. You could say, Life finally begins now—no matter what your age is. You are your own big girl/boy now. You can do whatever you want with a calm heart. You’ve literally set everything in motion in ways that may not be apparent (yet) in the physical world.

Have courage for your Destiny is meeting you halfway. In the meantime, eat your cake, paint your clouds, colour your hair, burn your candles, and continue to believe in your wildest dreams. You, have, a fuckton, of motherfuckers, to prove wrong, baby. Put them to shame. Your weirdest manifestations are yours to claim. You are meant to leave a legacy of awesome and nothing in this mortal world can stop a Bodhisattva such as yourself.

To help ease your heartaches, you might wanna Google what a Bodhisattva is if you’re unfamiliar with that term. Light will be shed upon why you’ve had to endure so much hardships—even if, say, only psychologically—just to feel like you have a place in this murderously chaotic world of nonsensical stupidity.

Much like the roundness of the jelly (pic) you’ve chosen, you’ve rounded up your tenure on Earth. This is very likely your last incarnation on 3D Earth. I don’t think many of you would still want to come back around again LMAO But if you ever change your mind, know with confidence the next time you’re incarnated on Earth again it will be 5D Earth (or 4D, at least, if you feel like it).

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – Charting New Territories

c o s m i c – XVI The Tower

You’ve been through a number of experiences that would’ve given other people a major mental breakdown. But you, you were always able to maintain a positive attitude. Somehow, more than most other people, you’re blessed with an ability to maintain a strong faith in the higher powers. You’re not shaken by the unknown. You embrace cycles of transformation, like a snake shedding its old skin. Parasites are left with the old skin. You’re so amazing.

With this Full Blue Moon in Pisces, you’re building a new Tower of your own. A shiner Tower, strong enough to stand for another 10,000 years or so. This is the Life you’ve always wanted for yourself. This basically could translate into your starting up your new business, moving to another country to start a new Life, or even just starting the preparations for this new paradigm of your ideals. Basically, the chess pieces are moving now.

You’re just about to have a great time seeing every single one of your dreams and visions manifest step by step as you continue to live in your authenticity. Your decisions may not always be easily understood by everyone but you don’t care anymore. You’re done caring—carrying other people’s negativity and small worldviews. You’re done with the past. You can feel all your bones rattling—your clarion call is calling, babe~ Tlulululu~📞HELLO!🎆

l o g i c – Queen of Cups Rx

Up until recently, you’ve been deep in an alchemical process of knowing the inner workings of your emotions. You’ve recently come to fully understand how the way you care too much about the people around you has become a disadvantage. You are really kind, you know, very caring, and I hope you don’t see this as a weakness. You weren’t weak at all; you’d just been giving to the wrong bunch of people. These takers are major losers who don’t have it in them to know how to be kind, caring, or generous to other people. It’s alright, this was just your learning process to know how the Devil ticks.

With this, I’m seeing you’ve made a strong resolve to first and foremost prioritise your mental health. Your emotional wellbeing comes first because you’re literally the main character of your own Life. If that should make you step on a few toes, you’re not gonna fret. Their fault for being in your way.

You’re becoming more logical in the way you view how the world works. Things and situations are not always fair, and sometimes, the right thing to do may not always seem the best. But you’re done being a sacrifice to unideal situations at all times. Nomo. You’re choosing not to let your emotions override your sense of deservingness and respect.

m a g i c – 9 of Cups

You’ve raised your vibrations, and now you’re becoming a match to a lot of high-vibe treasures. A lot of them. You’re going to see first hand how your Reality shifts, continuously, to find the right bearing before some things can be decided and become permanent. Your realities are going to keep shifting like that at least until the next Full Moon. In the coming month, you’re going to feel very blessed and glad that you’ve decided to take control of your Life. You’re going to be so proud of yourself, if you aren’t already.

When you’re, let’s say, out and about, you might encounter people or situations that feel rather magical. Like, there’s so much good luck surrounding you and you may be like, ‘OMG, how did that just happen?’ There’s so much Love and positivity surrounding you that you also feel charitable—with your energy, attention, resources. There seems to be this equal give and take between you and the world outside.

I think it’s possible you’re gonna be meeting Soul Mates as well. Or, you could be entering this phase of your Life where you’re meeting what in Buddhism is termed brothers and sisters in dharma. People with whom you share a similar vision to be of service to the world, in a similar fashion. I think you’re going to feel so excited and motivated about the purpose of your Life and how you’re gonna go about it going forward. Tlulululu~📞HELLO!🎆

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Pile 3 – Future Builder

c o s m i c – King of Pentacles

On a cosmic scale, you’re being led to become a leader of the New Age of Aquarius. For some, this means you will have a public platform to speak for your causes. It’s not so difficult to wave influence over a group of people nowadays when you have social media, right? For some, this could mean that you will have a new role that will have you seen as an authoritative figure in your field, or immediate home/work/school environment.

For some others, you could get promoted to a new position at your workplace, or get a new work opportunity that is more in alignment with your spiritual values as a human being. Some kind of change that will make you feel greatly proud of yourself, in a grateful manner😊Money and other forms of abundance are coming in steadily, although for some may not be too quickly.

Some of the changes that are happening to you, you may not think that these are spiritual in nature, but they are, and you will gradually understand the meaning of these shifts in your Reality as you go along. The tiny truth of the matter is, you are finally receiving a lot of material abundance because you’ve literally embraced the idea that you deserve to take up space🎉

l o g i c – XII The Hanged Man Rx

I feel very strongly you’ve been having these inner works revolving knowing how to strike a balance between being selfless and selfish. You may have come from a background in which people are expected to always be humble and stupidly selflessly giving, no matter the cost. I know an Asian background or a Christian one could mess up with a lot of people’s psychology. Especially East Asian, I guess? You’re expected to just mingle in the background and flexing your accomplishments is literally considered a severe social misconduct *bleh* something like that

You’ve had to learn the hardest way not to give in to that notion of putting yourself last. The group is always more important than the individual? Fuck that. I come first. Every individual deserves to come first especially when the group setting is not even that altruistic. Especially when the group’s importance is literally serving the blatant selfishness of some of the top/key figures in the group. Nomo. Fuck this and fuck that. I blast open my own pathway. Even if nobody will like me for that, I come first. I take care of me first. How can I be a genuinely kind person when I can’t even be kind to myself?

That’s sort of the learning process you’ve had to go through until you reached this plateau of clarity on how an individual can maintain personal autonomy even when you’re still a part of the group. In spite of your age and how much you’ve experienced in Life, I don’t think you’re anywhere near finishing learning hahah Wise people never stop learning anyway. But for now, I think you’ve graduated some level of a meaningful spiritual masterclass with flying colours~!🌈

m a g i c – XIII Death Rx

You have been reborn, baby~ Out of the old cycle into a new phase of AWESOME. Something about the way you look, I’m sure has changed, too. You’re a much happier person now, you’re more confident. I think your facial expression is different. Your posture is better. Your steps are surer. Your skin cleared up. You’ve got an entirely new wardrobe. Your social media is going through a renaissance. You have a new circle of friends or a new boyfriend even. Everything, is just, different, in ways you can’t really explain.

Your aenergy has affected your physical Reality to morph itself in accordance with your ideals. You’re literally living in your desired reality and it can only get better form here. Need I say more? Just ENJOY~ You’ve worked hard to maintain your authenticity in a world that delights in seeing people kill themselves emotionally and spiritually just to fit in the group.

Your originality is what will ensure your future successes like nobody in your family has ever seen. Trust that, babe—this is New Age of Aquarius. Aquarius is all about being original and eccentric. It’s not like you’re hurting anybody, right? Your level of happiness is going to make everybody regret that they didn’t believe enough in you. They’d wish they coulda treated you better. But do you give a damn? Maybe you shouldn’t. Leave them at the bottom of the grave they dug for you. You go shine your Light for those who resonate with you, you beautiful Angel Goddess Fairy Mermaid Nymph Siren~🌞

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