#my old gifs is my comfort thing that I bring everywhere so he’s not in the greatest condition

[tteokdoroki]

THE PERFECT SHADE OF PURPLE - suguru geto.

✩ — about. “i buy her gifts like i would for my sister and she likes them. we recently fucked at her place of work, i know it’s wrong but i just can’t stop.” suguru geto never thought he’d end up here. in a new city with a new job and a new life. he never wanted to lose his little sister to his best friend. he never wanted to replace her. never wanted to fuck someone who looked exactly like her. but here you are, and geto can’t help but want you the same way he wants her. he just had to get that off his chest… ( 11.4K )

✩ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! dark content, nsfw, smut, hurt-comfot, open ending - video banner ! AITA-verse!au (read part one here !), bakery!au, italics mean the characters are speaking in japanse, situationships, co-dependency ( on suguru geto ), manipulation, gaslighting, praise, use of oni-chan/nii chan/imouto, fingering (f!receiving), public sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f!receiving), overstimulation, orgasm control, multiple orgasms, creampies, bilingual!geto, japanese speaking + fem!reader.

✩ — things to note. hehe hi everyone!!! pls im reposting this again :( it was written as a gift for @todorosie and the very idea spawned from her love for geto in my AITA gojo fic !! it’s sort of a continuation and set in the same universe so you might need to read to understand the plot. special thanks to @antizenin for beta reading n helping me come up with some ideas !! enjoy guys, mwah mwah - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

look, i know it’s bad… but my adopted sister and i were always close. she looked up to me and needed me for everything, up until a month ago when she betrayed my trust and fucked my childhood best friend.  i got a therapist, went low contact and moved to a completely different country in order to avoid w everything. but nothing helped, i think of my sister every day and sometimes… i picture bad, dirty things. recently i met this girl, she’s the spitting image of my adoptive little sister. they look the same, act the same — i think i’ve started falling for her. i buy her gifts like i would for my sister and she likes them. we recently fucked at her place of work, i know it’s wrong but i just can’t stop. 

TLDR: i’m fucking and have feelings for a girl that’s a carbon copy of my adopted younger sibling.

the city of new york is meant to be the city of dreams.

at any given moment, your fate can change. anything can happen here, you can make it big and live out your life or you can go home and lead one of regret. suguru geto feels like neither are true for him. the bustling city and flashing lights, busy concrete streets and honking taxis bring the dark haired  man anything but joy. suguru isn’t happy here, in new york, despite all the wonders that it holds — irregardless of the grand job opportunity he has waiting for him just around the corner. 

suguru geto had the chance of a lifetime to develop his career as a criminal defence lawyer in one of the most opportune cities in the world. his dream since he was old enough to understand the wrongs of the world. 

but that’s merely not enough to keep him content, to make him want to stay. 

he doesn’t want to go home either, he’s sure he would hate himself for thattoo. it would be a waste of suguru’s talents to return to japan prematurely, with its nauseating air and sense of betrayal that follows him everywhere he goes. home is supposed to be where one is happiest and safest — it’s where his family is, where he was raised and first opened his eyes. but for the lawyer, japan no longer serves to comfort him and only constantly reminds the man of his little sister, who’d fucked his best friend just a month prior. 

that very instance was enough reason for him to leave the country in the first place — he had to get out, had to escape the very fact that haunted him day and night. 

like any other adult with a shit load of trauma, suguru invests in the best therapist his money can buy — especially now that he can’t spoil is younger sister with it. the older woman with her stuffy office, beady eyes and chipped painted nails had prescribed the man with a short break, a change of pace from the life he was used to, to give himself the grace and time to heal from the heartbreak of losing the two most important people in his life. his best friend, satoru gojo, and his adoptive little sister. 

he had no idea where gojo was now, thirty days later, and suguru knew his little sister had probably moved out of their hometown by now to kick start her career. so even if all of that meant that suguru geto could go home…he wouldn’t. he would use the vastness of new york to give himself the breathing room he needed to heal, fill his bloodstream with fresh oxygen so that it would clot and cover up his fresh wounds of betrayal, turn scabs into scars and let him slowly recover.

at least that’s what his therapist had told him to do — in the suffocating purple walls of her office. 

yet, so far, suguru’s escape to new york hadn’t exactly gone according to plan. every corner of the city painfully reminds him of the hole in his heart, where his innocent little sister should be. after her graduation he’d planned on taking her here as a reward for all of her hard work, but now, suguru faces his own bitter reality — every landmark has her face etched into its side, skyscrapers and their glass windows refract the light of her smile, while famous dinner spots tie to the endless list of reservations she’d reminded suguru to make. hell, even his daily routine of hailing infamous yellow taxi cabs reminds him of her precious excitement to go. 

new york was a city big enough for both geto siblings, but too large for just the one. 

it’s a wonder that suguru has been able to live without his sister for this long — it’s only been a month but he’s spent his entire life looking out for her. protecting her. he hardly knows what to do with himself now that he has all this extra time. 

suguru knew that she was way too dependent on him, it was bad — he was painfully aware of that. but he couldn’t help it, she needed someone to protect her and nurture her, she needed someone to teach her about the dangers of the world. she needed her big brother. perhaps if the dark haired man had been less protective of his sister and given her some sort of independence… then maybe he wouldn’t miss her so much, he wouldn’t have lost his best friend as collateral damage in the process. he would still have the two of them, and she could be happy with gojo. 

the guilt of what ifs and what could have beens tirelessly weigh down suguru’s heart at the thought — he caused this. this rift between the soul-bonded pair. if he had raised her better, let her spread her wings like a free bird, then he would still have her in his life. 

at this point, he’s realised something dire. suguru can’t live without her, his little sister. her bright eyes in the morning and the sweet tune to her voice when she calls out for him — it’s weird, it’s bad…how much he misses and needs her. borderlining on strange, it’s only now that suguru realises how unhealthy their dynamic as siblings had been. how reliant he was on his baby sister to need him. it should have never been that way, he shouldn’t need her so desperately to function. keeping her under such a close watch was probably what drove her into the arms of satoru in the first place. 

the concrete wilderness of suguru’s new home provides no relief from these epiphanies and the chambers of his heart that slowly seem to be dying without his sister. instead he feels trapped in his own addiction, as if he’s going through the withdrawal after dependency on drugs. 

whenever suguru feels immense waves of guilt, like a tsunami that might pull him under and replace the clean air in his lungs with the murky water of his own sour thoughts and emotions; whenever he misses home a little too much; whenever he feels like the world his crashing down on him once more — his therapist and her purple nails tapping against her clip board comes to mind. she tells suguru to take a walk, especially when he’s overcome with thoughts of the situation back in december. when his chest feels too tight and feels like picking up the phone and calling his sister before he’s ready to. 

so geto does just that, lugging on his winter coat as he prepares to take a walk downtown while the sun sets.

suguru tends to think that his therapist is full of shit. 

she believes in the colour purple, she believes that there is purpose and meaning in concepts like colours that are based on fact and science. the light reflects, and people see colour. 

as she had explained to the man in an hour long session just two weeks ago, purple is supposed to be the colour of healing; though to suguru, purple makes him feel sick. it’s everywhere, in the lavander-ish off-white walls of his new york-rented apartment, the flowers in the stalls on his way to work, the skies at night. suguru thought he was a rational man, that he was calm and collected — able to see the reasons behind everything he comes across…but he still doesn’t understand the significance of colours like purple and its connection to healing. 

all suguru knows is that he did like the pretty hollow shade that formed a ring around satoru’s bright blue eyes. of course, after having the shit beaten out of him for touching what belonged to suguru. for corrupting his innocent baby sister. 

aside from that, tonight’s walk is mostly uneventful, full of couples getting ready for date night and business people heading home to their happy families for the night. suguru despises them, strangers on the street minding their own business. he hates these passer-bys for their happiness, a joy he can no longer experience. going home. it leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. 

he misses his family. the warmth and love from his mother, the poor jokes from his father… the looks of adoration and hugs from his sister. it’s not fair. he shouldn’t have had to give that up because of the selfish actions of his ex-best friend. 

suguru decides to turn back and head for his apartment when the street lamps start to flicker and turn on. 

however, on his commute, a familiar scent tickles his senses and brushes over his nose. the man finds himself following, enchanted by rich flavours that he recognises from his youth — sweet red bean and spicy curries overlay the city’s natural smells and suguru makes an attempt to track it down. like a fool, he sprints after the scent like a hound dog tracking a hunt and stops a few strides short of a quaint japanese bakery with a set of deep indigo flowers climbing up it’s worn down exterior. 

suguru recognises the flowers to be shobu. irises. 

standing before the sliding doors, geto inhales, overwhelmed and overcome with emotion. the sweet smell triggers memories of home and how his parents would take him and his sister out to get treats when they were small. how that became a tradition for the geto siblings when they were old enough to go out on their own. 

he remembers how his sister would beg him for a box of sakura mochi every time they went, and how he would so easily relent — even if it meant spending all of that week’s pocket money. suguru is so carried away with his thoughts that he hardly notices himself taking steps into the bakery, or lining up at the counter, or you.

calling him up to the counter. 

you’re a pretty girl. that’s the first thing suguru notices. your eyes are beautiful, a deep brown that reminds him of roasted chestnuts and warm chocolates, your face is round with a soft edge of youth. the uniform that you wear hugs every dip and curve of your body and the braids you have are lengthy and black, perfectly framing your face. when you speak, your voice carries gentle dulcet notes that make suguru’s heart flutter — like music to his ears. 

you are one thousand percent suguru geto’s type and everything about you, this little bakery attendant, reminds suguru of his younger sister. 

right then and there, everything clicks into place for him. 

“sir, can i get you anything?” you ask him kindly, not wanting to push or scare away a potential customer. nor pressure the handsome stranger, since he’s holding up your line. “sir?” you repeat, finally garnering his attention after squirming under his intense stare. 

not that you mind being stared at by him, for this particular customer is right up your alley. 

from his milky skin, desperate to be marked, to his lengthy dark tresses that you’re dying to pull at and tug. his jaw is angular, sharp enough to the point where you fear you would cut yourself should you have the chance to touch it. despite the razor edges to his features, he looks kind…almost wistful, at most. a quality that does nothing to calm the hungry flame catching light in your lower tummy.

the two of you remain admiring one another until a customer in the queue clears their throat impatiently — causing both of you to jump. 

“s-sorry,” geto mumbles the apology quickly, his pale cheeks tinged with a subtle pink despite how hot they feel. he’s suddenly become all too aware of the line that he’s holding up. one that he’s not even supposed to be in, since he’d walked in here on instinct anyway. his dark, narrow eyes sweep the counter in search for something, anything to order so that he doesn’t look like a complete idiot in front of you or the rest of the customers. 

more specifically, yourself. 

“i would recommend the sakura mochi,” then, like an angel sent from the heavens, you try your luck in conversing with suguru in japanese. his nervous and skittish gaze shoots up to your face, shoulders sagging in relief and familiarity. you truly are like a piece of home. like his little sister. suguru likes that more than a normal man should. “they’re popular amongst our customers, it’s taken our owner years to perfect her recipe with the ingredients here. especially since leaving japan.” 

suguru grins and nods, spotting the dessert he’s so accustomed to buying in the display cabinet. his heart lurches, yearning for his little sister. “these?” he whispers to you, the syllables of his native language curling around his tongue naturally. “they look just like the ones from home.”

there’s a sparkle in your eyes when he responds, and you continue to speak to him in sugary tones. “they taste just as goodtoo, i promise!”

“then, i’ll take a box.” 

“how many? they come in boxes of four, eight and sixteen pieces.”

“just the four, please.” 

taking your tongs from the metal counter behind the cabinet, you fish out four of the best pieces of sakura mochi and tentatively place them into a pre-folded cardboard box for the handsome customer. as he dives deep into his pocket for his card to pay, you quickly add an extra piece — uttering something about it being on the house under your breath. 

the action leaves both of you bashful and suguru taps his card on the machine you’ve set up for him to pay. “ah, thank you…” suguru searches for your name in the candy scented air and you tap your badge with a cute acrylic nail to draw attention to your name which he breathes out in a husky tone, failing to mask its curious lilt as he returns to english.

“no worries, have a good evening, sir.” you giggle shyly, still managing to bid him farewell. 

on his way home, suguru can’t help but to replay the entire interaction in his head over and over again. in his brief three minutes of meeting you, you’d managed to fix the hole in his heart, help it beat properly again. you’re just like her, his little sister, and that is a dangerous fact. 

he reaches his apartment with a flushed face, feeling a little flustered, but a lot better than he was before the start of his walk. 

after work, a few days later, geto finds himself back in front of the bakery, working up the courage to go inside and see you.  

no matter how hard he tried and how much of his work he tried to throw himself into — suguru couldn’t get the vision of you out his head. your saccharine laugh haunted him as he reviewed case files, your timid smile chased him through his lunch break and your small act of kindness (speaking with him in Japanese) has him all worked up and blushing by the time he’s able to clock out for the day. 

the dark haired  man feels insane, he knows that this is weird — projecting the image of his adoptive sister onto you, but like a man on drugs he can’t seem to quit. he needs to get his fix. he needs to see you again. entering the bakery once again is like stepping into a new domain, and suguru damn near forgets his simple plan to talk to you. order sakura mochi, say thank you, and leave. while he waits in the queue, his courage mounts in slow stacks and anxiety fades, but by the time he’s up front and face to face with you again — suguru’s brain is completely wiped of every word he was going to say. 

“ah, it’s you again!” you greet him in japanese once more, instinctively reaching to brush your braids out of your face in order to look more presentable to the handsome stranger who’s been plaguing your thoughts as well. suguru thinks you’re cute, regardless of the rice flour smeared across your cheeks and the various mysterious (though surely tasty) stains that decorate your uniform. he even finds it endearing, the way that you share the same nervous gesture of playing with the ends of your braids like his little sister. “i was just wondering when you were going to come in from the… mmm, cold? you’ve been standing and… uh! staring from out there for a while.” you continue to tease the man warmly in his native tongue, choosing your words carefully and avoiding eye contact with him while you prep the tongs for his order. “what can i get for you today?”

so much for not humiliating himself in front of the pretty girl. “i’m sorry… i’ll just take some sakura mochi again,” suguru begins, this time in english to spare you the trouble of overthinking everything that you say. “i was trying to figure out how to do this,” he places a wad of cash on the counter while you prepare his order. your chocolatey eyes blow wide, sweet glazed lips parting softly at the mere sight. you’re sure there’s enough money in the stack to cover an entire week’s worth of your wages and if a stranger can just give away such a large amount… it makes you wonder what he’s even doing at a humble place like this. “it’s a tip from last time. i never got to thank you.” 

“oh… i was just doing my job!” you stammer out politely and prepare to reject the tip, but suguru refuses to let you refuse his gift — forcefully pushing the ‘tip’ over the edge of the glass. he really couldn’t help but to give the money to you, hardly fighting the urge to spoil you with cash like he would with his little sister. besides, the man earned more than enough to drop it on you without putting a dent in his pocket. 

“you did more than that… just the simple act of kindness in conversing with me, a stranger, in japanese. that was nice of you.” suguru counters. “thank you. how did you know?” 

you work on preparing a thin and white cardboard box for his order before walking along the dessert counter, followed by you. “i had a feeling, a lot of people come in here when they’re missing something,” he frowns and your eyes finally meet his. “someone.” you breathe out, quietly. “i took a guess, figured you might have been from japan.” 

“well, you were correct…” 

your heart skips a beat at the sound of your name on his tongue as he says it. it’s so gentle it makes you feel faint and you’re absolutely charmed by a man you hardly know. “does that earn me brownie points…?” you trail off, wanting to capture his name. 

“suguru.” 

“ah, suguru meaning…” giving the man a once over, you drink in his tall frame and dark eyes, the small quirk to his plush lips as he smiles at you… and think. he’s the perfect man in every way, soft spoken and clement, even if he did have flaws or a dark secret — you would definitely choose to ignore it in favour of spending more time with him. once you find the word you’re looking for (and snap out of staring at the poor guy) you speak again. “excellence…it suits you.” 

geto chuckles quietly in response, amused by your take away.  “your name suits you too, darling. it’s just as beautiful as you.” 

when you giggle and grow shy at his compliment — the honeyed melody only serves to remind suguru of his little sister once more. in that moment, he feels something bad and almost wretched stir in his gut just from watching you turn bashful over him. a dark thought in the back of his kind tells him to keep you, so that he can see you like this more often. it urges him to make you need him. like he would have with his little sister. 

he’s starting to project, he’s sure, but you make it easy for him, with your puppy dog eyes and tiny little smiles. once geto’s order is packed, four little squares of sakura mochi wrapped in emerald green and brined sakura leaf — smelling of spring and red bean, he pays (with a hefty tip) and inspects the box. “you’ve got to stop giving me things for free, darling. we’ve only just met.” he chides fondly, scolding you like a child as if to make sure you won’t get in trouble with your job. he’s counted five mochi instead of four — just like last time. “won’t this hurt business?” he coos down at you — sending your body into a fit of shivers despite the warmth of your uniform. 

“well, i’d consider us friends now that you’ve come specifically to see me. friends can’t give each other gifts?” you quip cheekily — much like suguru’s sister would. “you got to spoil me today, no one is going to notice an extra piece of mochi going missing.” 

“friends it is,” surugu purrs right back in satisfaction, preparing to take his leave. cautiously, as though not to spook you like a hunter after a deer in the woods — he reaches over the counter to pat your head affectionately, internally pleased with the way you keen into his touch. “i hope to see my new friend around more often, then.” he hums with pride, and you nod your head eagerly. 

like a puppy. like you want to please him. 

it reminds geto all too much of his little sister — who only ever wanted to make the dark haired man proud. 

over the coming weeks, suguru finds himself at the bakery more often than not. as though it’s a part of his daily routine. 

he’ll take his walk after work, stop by and purchase some sakura mochi, before leaving you with another little gift. at first, his gifts started out as wads of cash in place of tips, then slowly turned to more materialistic things, items that you could hood or wear as if they were to geto’s his claim on you. like flowers, jewellery or clothes. things you couldn’t afford on your own, things he’d like to see you in, things his little sister would like to receive if they were still in contact with one another. 

suguru knows that you can’t afford these things because you’ve let it slip over coffee and mochi that you rent the apartment above the bakery from the old woman who owns it and can barely afford the new york rent as well. he also learns that you were hired because of your ability to speak, read and write in Japanese. 

as much as suguru has spoiled you in the last few weeks, you won’t let him pay your rent though, so tips have sufficed for now. 

nowadays, the time spent moping around his apartment while mourning the relationships that he lost are spent growing increasingly obsessive over you. hours upon hours are wasted on thoughts of what gift he might buy you next — like more comfortable work shoes, an umbrella to get you home safe during the rain that just so happens to be designer. suguru spoils you under the guise of just being your friend — at least that’s what it is to you. 

to him, he’s spoiling his baby sister. someone who is feeble and needs his help and his protection. he doesn’t tell his therapist any of this, of course, she would deem it unhealthy to see how much of his money and time he’s blown in a little cafe worker.  

a cafe worker who’s important to suguru, who haunts his dreams with her perfect curves, and pouty lips whenever he brings you a small gift of his affections. “sugu,” you’ve resorted to calling him, just like his sister would. the nickname was the result of a time where you’d written his name on a coffee order, and customers complained you were taking too long. so geto had told you that you could call him ‘sugu’ instead. however, he would omit details on how badly it affected his brain chemistry …to hear someone he cared for call him that again. “you don’t have to get me an expensive gift just because i make you coffee and get you sweet treats.” 

“it’s not just because you get me sweet things or make me coffee,” he had responded, leaning over the counter flirtatiously. “it’s because you do such a good job. you take care of me and my order every evening. make sure i get the best of the best. how could i not thank my sweet little barista.” 

you wouldn’t say it, but he knew you liked the praise. he wondered if you felt as dirty and as thrilled as him during these little exchanges between the two of you. on that specific occasion, geto decided to gift you with a pendant, similar to the one he’d gotten his sister — only this time, a purple amethyst sits in its centre rather than the blue gem all too familiar to satoru gojo’s piercing eyes.

maybe this is what his therapist meant by healing. suguru is healing by getting over his sister and replacing her with you. 

you are the one that haunts his dreams now, makes his cock stir inappropriately. another thing that suguru woulda never tell his therapist — is that sometimes when he really needed it, he would think of his little sister while fisting his cock into the night air. they weren’t really related, only by adoption so it wasn’t too wrong. sometimes he’d think of her getting railed by satoru, but nowadays he would think of you on his cock instead, calling out for suguru like you need him to function. 

‘nii-san!’ - this and ‘please sugu! ’- that, each word uttered in his sister’s voice would quickly morph into yours — the quivering sweet sound always resembling his little sister’s when she cried. suguru, the dark haired  man, imagined you would react the same. and more often than not, it was your face that he pictured when he was about to cum. 

every single gift suguru got for you were the result of him dreaming about how much he needed you, someone to spoil and protect. someone to need him. 

tonight, suguru is a little late for his daily visit to your bakery. 

tonight, an important case at his firm had rolled in at the last minute and required attention before a preliminary hearing — but even his job couldn’t keep suguru geto away from you. when he arrives at the bakery, you’re still there, having left the doors unlocked for him to come inside. 

tonight, there is no long line of customers out the door to build up the anticipation between you both, the lights have already been deemed and there’s not a trace of life inside of the bakery. aside from yourself, of course.

tonight, you’re on the closing shift instead of the owner’s grandson, choso. who you reassured suguru you weren’t interested in the first time they’d met. with gentle eyes that masked the dark haired  man’s fury, geto had told you that he was the only man you’d ever need and you believed him — suguru had a charm for making people dependent on him. 

the tiny silver bell stationed at the door jingles and signals geto’s arrival, but you hardly look up from your work — keeping your back to him while you sweep at nothing. you’re hiding the excitement that prickles down your spine, you’ve been waiting to get the man alone for weeks and now that you’re able to… you can hardly contain yourself. 

“excuse me, uh…” he says your name so sweetly, as though the words on his tongue are laced with honey. pretending not to know you only makes tonight more thrilling. “are you open? do you have any sakura mochi to spare?” it’s only then that you whirl around to face suguru, your deep brown eyes still bright despite the dimness of the empty bakery — they sparkle with elation, and the plump curve of your lips spike up into an easy smile. you’ve been waiting, suguru notes, like a good little girl.

like a puppy waiting for her owner. 

you’ve been waiting to see him. 

anticipation claws at the air, sending ripples of kinetic energy into the space between you both — where suguru waits at the door and you stand front and centre in the middle of the room. his murky eyes slink down to your neck where one hand fiddles with the silver chain of your pendant, your nails tapping at the amethyst in its centre. in the same way his sister does when she’s nervous. 

neither of you know what’s going to happen tonight, now that you’re finally alone. 

“we have some in the back,” you swallow down the heartbeat in your throat you nod shyly when you finally speak. it’s weird how your body has started to react to suguru after weeks of getting to know him, being spoiled by him. the clothes you wear are now covered in traces of him, the jewellery you own is paid for by his dime. this…stranger, who you hardly know yet feel like you know everything about, has invaded every inch of your life… and you’re not even mad about it. you’d rather die than let this go. “i just need to lock up first. if you’ll give me a moment.”

you approach him cautiously, practically pressing your breasts against his chest as you reach behind the man to lock the doors he stands in front of. suguru can already tell that the mood today is different — full of hunger and expectations for something less polite than evening chatter and gift exchanges. his dark eyes follow your every move across the bakery like a wolf tracking the scent of prey. 

“why don’t you come with me to the back? and if you don’t mind, could you carry a bag or two of that rice flour? it’s too heavy for me on my own?” you ask him after backing away with a glint in your eye. naughty, naughty. geto likes the fact that you’re asking him, that you need him and he can be your strong suguru. 

“sure, anything for you.” he agrees a little bit too quickly, removing his work jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. suguru discards his tie as well — before lifting a sack of rice flower with ease. he pretends not to notice the way you ogle the bulge in his biceps as he does so.

“thanks.” you utter, leading the way to the back of the bakery. 

once the two of you arrive in the kitchens at the back, you give suguru some time to set down the sacks of flour and retreat to the many shelves of sweet treats and baked goods that you’d prepared for your shift the next day. you’re sure choso, nor his grandmother, would mind if you stole a plate of mochi for the two of you to share. they trusted you enough, but you decide to forgo telling them for now. 

“i was starting to think you weren’t coming.” you say as you set the desserts out on the metal table for him, suguru hates the guilt that he feels for leaving you for so long. “seeing you is the highlight of my week.” 

“are you sure it’s not the gifts that i give you?” he teases, rounding the table to take a piece of mochi from the plate at its middle. he practically moans at the flavours of cherry blossom and crystallised sugar bursting across the palette of his tongue. and for a moment, his mind slips to other territories — wandering what you’d taste like as well. 

“n-no! sugu!” for the first time that night, you break character, bashfully tucking your pretty face into your shoulder as if to hide it. “i, um… i genuinely like seeing you and when you come to see me. i-it makes me feel better. being around you. i feel safer and happier.” 

putting his weight onto the metal surface, suguru leans forward and cocks his head to the side in faux curiosity. your answer is just what he wanted to hear. he finally has you where he wants you,  like a sweet deer in a hunter’s trap. “is that so, darling?” you shake your head yes in affirmation. “well then, you’re awfully sweet.” geto takes to praising you, licking the traces of candy from his lips and maintaining eye contact while his hand dips into the pocket of his slacks for something. “i have a gift for you, little one.” 

“oh yeah?” youtoo, take a bite out of the treats you’ve laid out, munching on them casually while keeping suguru under your watchful eye.

it’s only then that pulls out a matching item of jewellery, this time, a matching anklet to the item that sits heavy at your neck. the silver chain is dotted with tinier, purple gems. a showcase of suguru’s appreciation for how much you’ve healed him — a nod to how much better he feels around you too. 

“you sure do love purple for me, sugu.” you joke, laughing incredulously at the expensive gift. “it’s beautiful, thank you.” you let him circle the table to take hold of your soft hips, lifting you onto the cool surface so that geto has some leverage to put the anklet on you. 

after kicking out your left foot — suguru sinks to his knees before you, and something about the way he looks up at you, with his eyebrows drawn to the centre of his forehead and his milky cheeks slightly flushed, has your heart racing and your head all dizzy. ���purple is supposed to mean healing. i’ve had a tough time, being away from japan and my family…” he begins quietly, his voice is calming with lilts and drops of hunger that slips through the cracks of suguru’s caring resolve. “but you’ve made it better,” one of his large hands encircles your ankle, lifting your foot higher so that geto is easily able to remove the strap of your mary-jane shoe and replace it with the chains of your new anklet. “ah… a perfect fit.” he announces in japanese, fixing the clasp. 

the whole ordeal is intimate, inviting and you feel like you might slip under the surface of dark, dangerous waters if you’re not careful. you don’t know how to swim, but something tells you that suguru will keep you afloat. “anyways, little one…” suguru continues with his monologue, whispering his words against your talus bone at the base of your leg, where it meets your foot. “you wanting me here and needing me… it heals me.” 

once he’s checked that the anklet is secure, suguru reaches a hand upwards, and brushes a thumb over the swell of your glossy bottom lip to swipe away a smudge of powdered sugar from the mocha. you will yourself to speak, but you feel as though you can’t even breathe. “i’ve…healed you?” 

suguru stands up, towering over you now as he moves to suck the sugar from your lips off of his thumb. “of course, little one. what else do you think you’ve been doing this whole time?” his pupils dilate, obsidian black drowning out any other colour in his eyes while closes the gap between your heated bodies. your thighs instinctively jump apart to make room for him too, allowing him to loom over you even better — following the biological call of your hearts.

the world comes to a standstill when suguru’s lips finally meet yours in a sloppy yet coordinated kiss. while his movements are messy and hungry he remains gentle with you, as though you might break from too much force. the sweltering heat of his tongue swipes eagerly but not aggressively over the seam of your mouth, dying to be let in and taste the sugar that glazes your own pink muscle. his large, unusually soft hands grasp, and squeeze and pinch at your thighs, then the fat at your hips until his thumbs are tucked under your breasts, soothing circles over the point at which the fleshy mounds join up with your rib cage. 

goosebumps break out across your skin from underneath your clothes and you feed suguru a needy little squeak when he finally breaks into your mouth, his tongue lapping circles at every crevice. you sound just like her, his angelic little sister, and he treats you so gently because he would never want to hurt her. suguru has always wanted to kiss his sister, but you’ll have to do. he likes you just as much as her. 

it’s that sick and twisted desire to devour his younger sibling that fuels his next movements, along with the dulcet and darling sounds you make for him. carefully and between sticky lip locks, suguru pushes you onto your back — humming in amusement when it arches away from the cool metal of the silver counter. “s-sugu,” you whimper wetly, catching your breath while his smooches cascade down to your neck and his fingers work their way through the buttons on your uniform. your own take residence in his firm and broad set shoulders, as if to steady yourself. “i haven’t… i don’t have much experience with these things a-and they’ve not been the best—“

the dark haired  man chuckles softly, the sound sending a spark of lust down your spine and causing you to arch up into him as he cages you against the table. “i’ll be gentle,” he tells you firmly, in a tone that smooths over the doubts in your mind and helps you to relax. suguru will take care of everything. “you don’t have to worry. i want this to be all about you feeling good, okay?” you nod in reply and suguru sucks his teeth. “i want a verbal answer, little one.”

“yes, sugu…”

he places a chaste kiss to your collarbones then, a pleased hum vibrating against your temperate skin. “good girl.” 

the next few moments are a blur as suguru geto strips you down, kissing every inch of your exposed body with each article of clothing he removes from your shaky frame. all that he leaves you with are your soiled panties after reaching around the curve of your spine to unclip your bra with one hand.  it’s all so nerve wracking and invigorating all at once, you can’t help but wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in for more.

between the chaos and rustling of his own clothes coming off, suguru presses two digits to your budding clit and your world tilts on its axis — he’s hardly touching you and yet you feel so good, especially when he rolls the swollen little nub between a thumb and forefinger. your nails form crescent moons against his shoulder in response.

you’re so overwhelmed by the patterns he traces over your clit, his name, his promises to you and your body, as well as the blood rushing to it — that you hardly notice geto’s descent on your body, the hot trail of kisses he leaves between the valley of your breasts and over your soft tummy. you just about manage to feel him over the haze in your brain when his lips hit the scalloped edge of your panties, and you jolt when the tip of his tongue forcefully traces the outline of your un-used, soaked hole from over the gusset of said garment. 

the fabric darkens as your juices pool against it, mixed with the wetness of suguru’s tongue.

“will you let me pleasure you, little one?” 

it’s not like you can say no (not that you want to), especially with the way geto manoeuvres your thighs to hang over the backs of his strong shoulders as he settles between your trembling legs. while he waits for your reply, he takes your wrist into his grasp and pulls one of your silk scrunchies from it — using it to tie back his luscious black hair. 

you look down at him through your lashes with a painted expression of want and worry. 

suguru pushes the pads of his thumbs into the globes of your ass against the cold table — massaging the flesh with mischievous eyes as your pussy gushes and leaks a fresh wave of nectar right down to the puckered ring between your ass cheeks. “just tying my hair back as a precaution,” he whispers, voice lowering an octave as his face slowly nears your clenching cunt. “i’m a messy eater…”

“a-ah! sugu!”

at first, suguru delivers a single lick to your awaiting pussy, drawing a stripe with his tongue between the length of your fat and sluice folds. then, when you cry out his name he can’t help but to latch his heated mouth onto your unattended sex, chuckling at the realisation of just how good you taste. it’s a natural flavour, with a twinge of sweetness suguru could have only hoped to imagine. he’s been waiting for this moment and to have you like this for weeks — to replace his prior daydreams of fucking his baby sister with you…and now he finally has the material to do so. 

a sinful giddiness infiltrates geto’s bloodstream as he kitten licks at your pulsating mound — feeding in your arousal as it grows before inhaling deeply, nastily taking in your scent so that he can commit it to memory. “how does that feel?” he coos his words out as he hungrily nips at your sopping folds, rolling them raw between rows of perfect white teeth until you’re choking on a breath and your face scrunches adorably. “is that nice, love?” 

a wet whimper lies on your kiss-swollen lips, and your hips naturally buck up to follow the warm trace of suguru’s mouth encompassing your sex. “f-feels so good! b-better than i… could have imagined,” you struggle to get out, gargling on each syllable while your chest heaves and arches away from the chilly table — giving suguru the perfect view of your bouncing breasts and only motivating him to pleasure you more. “f-fuck!” 

if you were his baby sister, suguru isn’t so sure that you’d curse in front of him. she wouldn’t, she was too docile and sweet to utter a bad thing in his presence. but you, you’re both of those things and more — you lose yourself easily to the ecstasy in your veins; liquid pleasure spewing from your blistering hot cunt like a free-flowing river, painting suguru’s high cheekbones with your body’s riches. he feels blessed to be between your thighs, defiling the blossoming flower of your cunt with his eager mouth. 

“you’re so…you’re so pretty when you gush like this for me. i want you to give me more.” his tongue darts along the length of your weeping slit, catching what you leak before it can go to waste on the icy table beneath your hot skin. drunk on your taste, suguru forces his flexible tongue past the tightness of your fluttering entrance. “can you do that for me?” he mouths, though whatever he says is slurred as he slowly begins to tongue fuck you. 

“a-anything,” you say, breathing shallow and eyes beginning to grow teary. suguru’s tongue slips in and out of your creaming hole with rhythm, preparing you, using a pseudo sensation, for his fat cock. “anything for you! i wanna feel good for you. wanna please you!” he languidly strokes at your ribbed insides as a reward, chasing your honey nectar taste while your hips canter up and chase bud hismouth. 

suguru intends to destroy you, own you and unleash all of his darkest fantasies onto you. he’s dreamed of ruining his adoptive little sister, making her cum all over him — it just so happens that you look and sound like her, you match every single one of his dreams about her, you make them all a reality. it’s only right that he pleases you and makes you see stars for needing him and relying on him so well. 

he wonders if his sister would cry like you do, or if she would try to stave off her orgasm like you do. would she scream his name over the saliva pooling on her tongue like you do. eyes in the shade of deep, chocolate brown start to flutter shut at the sound of your desperate pleas as you writhe under suguru’s attention of your swollen pussy. your back sticks to the table and your thighs shake either side of suguru’s head, but he doesn’t relent on sucking the juices that cling to your pussy lips until all he can breathe is you. 

his tongue twists happily against your lush walls, grasping at the essence that lines them. 

“you’re doing well for me, little one, so well…” he praises you, knowing how close you’re getting. it’s in the way your body twitches with every suck to your hardened clit and the way you try to push him off of you. you need it so bad, you need him to make you cum. suguru thrusts deeper, harder and faster using his tongue — catching what dribbles from your tiny hole after it slips between your ass cheeks and pools in a puddle on the table. “i want to taste it. if you’ll cum for me, that’ll make me happy. so let me…”

suguru can’t even finish, dizzy on the taste of you like the buzz of a high. he could spend an infinite number of days between your legs. no matter how sore his knees get from kneeling between them — all he wants to do is slurp down everything that you give him, focus on making you reach pleasure of only heavenly limits in order to evade the guilt he feels. the one that causes knots to twist in geto’s stomach. 

how could he do this? 

how could he want this? 

to fuck someone so reminiscent of his little sister. 

to manipulate them into fucking him? 

suguru’s name is hot on your lips, spiralling into the husky evening air. “come on, little one. cum for me,” meanwhile, his breath on your cunt makes your hips wiggle and hole spasm — a new wave of juices staining his face. it’s scent and taste coax the man into diving back into your sopping heat, the point of his nose bumping against your pleasure nub as if peeks out from beneath its hood. 

“m-mph… m’kay,” comes your hushed whisper as you thread your fingers through the black roots of geto’s hair, keeping him pinned to your precious creamy core as you rut against his agile tongue. “f-feels funny!” you gasp and warble, filling the man’s mouth with your raw folds and liquid lust.

“hm?” geto hums lazily in acknowledgment, licking up to your clit so that he can replace his tongue with two digits. he works at your dripping hole, stretching it over them through the haze in his mind. he swoons at the thought of replacing those same digits with his cock next — they speed up with excitement, squelching and echoing throughout the room, overlapping with your high pitched breathy moans. 

with your heart rattling against your ribcage, you can hardly fight off the urge building within your lower belly — your hips are frantic as they chase after the feeling and the burning high that crackles across your neurons. geto groans wickedly, feeling your sex spasm against his soaked lips and clench down hard on his fingers. it’s not long before he feels you succumb to your first orgasm. it washes over him in heavenly waves — clearing away his guilt and desire for his little sister while simultaneously drowning you under sinful pretences.

your entire body is racked with the case of the shakes, your eyes shooting back into the dark depths of your skull while white noise fills your ears and overlays the sound of suguru lewdly slurping at your release. speaking off, clear streams of your arousal spurt from your quivering cunt…and for the first time ever, you squirt. everywhere, all over the place, making such a mess that suguru is left gargling over everything that you give him and there’s a crude splatter as your juices hit the floor. 

he doesn’t stop, however, licking you clean with his fingers continuing to curl languidly against your g-spot — over and over again. 

“sugu p-please! s’too much,” you plead in the form of a heavy sob — but only god knows that you don’t want the man to stop. 

“just one more for me?” he asks you tentatively, releasing your throbbing clit with a wet pop. suguru stands and you look up at him — noting the way his bangs stick to his cheeks from how wet you’ve gotten him. he doesn’t stop pumping his fingers in and out of you either, dragging the tips of them along your overstimulated and stretched walls. “you can do it, and if you can i’ll reward you. how does that sound, little one?” he slows his pace just enough to only have the seat of his palm salaciously grind against your clit, not wanting to hurt you. 

he wouldn’t want to hurt his adoptive sister if he ever had the chance to get her spread open like this. 

your face is stained with mascara, your brown eyes big and wobbly and your braids are askew — but still, you’re the most adorable thing he’s ever seen, next to her. your fingers threaten to snap shut around his wrist, but with his free hand he forces the wet and doughy flesh back open, and with a few more thrusts if his fingers, nice and tantalisingly slow, you’re cumming again in another cute, clear stream — dowsing suguru’s hand in another wash of your cum. 

leaning down, suguru’s lips tainted with your arousal lean down to meet your own — capturing them in a sweet kiss to help bring you back down to earth. “what’s your colour, darling? red for bad, yellow for okay and green for good. how do you feel?” 

“g-green,” you mumble, keening into his touch and craving his affection. “i feel fine, my legs won’t stop shaking. i’ve never cum like that before…” 

pride blooms like a wildflower in suguru’s chest. 

“well, i don’t intend on stopping, little one,” brushing your braids back into place, suguru carefully pulls his fingers out of your stretched hole and swiftly sucks them clean. “your pretty pussy is so tiny, must not have been used properly,” the vulgarity of his words have you arching for more from suguru, and you’re lucky that he’s not done with you yet. “don’t worry, love. i’ll fix that.” 

you’re weak in the knees when suguru manhandles you from the table onto the floor, making sure that you’re comfortable on your tummy — he even goes as far to nestle a bag of rice flour under your hips. you pretend not to notice the way his strength makes you flutter around nothing, smearing your juices onto the bakery floor.

“i’ve been holding back quite a bit,” he murmurs against your naked shoulder blades — the dark tresses of his hair tickling your skin. “so i might not last long.” you hear a belt clink before suguru kicks his slacks off and away, rewarding your patience with a kiss against your spine. “i hope it’s okay if i just give you my all.” 

from this position, it’s easy for suguru to picture his younger, adopted sister instead of you — he’s dreamed of having her present for him like this countless times, but it doesn’t compare to the way it feels having your hot body underneath him like this. your ass is so soft and pliant in his hands as he drags your hips up a little higher. another hand grasps at the hardness of his cock that’s been dripping and aching ever since geto first got his mouth on you. 

with stuttering hips, he positions himself at your needy entrance, chuckling in approval when you attempt to wiggle back on him — just as hungry for this as your lover is. both of you hiss as his veiny shaft comes into contact with your sticky folds, suguru using the remnants of your orgasms to slick himself up again and make it easier for you take all of him. you can’t see him, but the dark haired man’s cheeks are tinged pink with pure desire — his gaze turning woozy as he looks from your gaping hole to his cockhead, tapping it against your souse entrance a few times for good measure. 

fuck a condom, he thinks, if given the opportunity — he would have fucked his sister rawtoo. 

“whatever you give me, i-it’ll be enough for me, sugu,” you sniff, fisting the floor in anticipation — laying your hot, tear streaked cheek against its cool surface. “t-thank you for treating me so well.” 

“i promise,” geto heaves, words a little too rushed and eager. “i’ll make you feel so good, so fucking…h-hah—“ without warning, he thrusts all the way inside of you with his hips driving all the way forward until his pelvis is flush against the curve of your ass. geto is chubbier than you thought he would be, and just the right length — plugging you full. every vein wrapped around his shaft presses up against your most sensitive pleasure spots, and he’s weighty against your gummy unused walls. 

suguru’s breath prickles at shell of your ears as he collapses on top of you, all of his weight keeping you pinned to the cold hard floor. “can i move?” he lets out a wavering gasp, fighting the instinct to fuck down into you. your cunt ripples around him deliciously, the heat from your body making him drowsy. “you need to be fucked, little one. need someone to stretch out your tight pussy… i can do that for you. if you let me…”

he hates the part of his brain that wonders if his baby sister was this tight when gojo fucked her. 

“i want you to,” you slur gently, purposely squeezing down on the base of suguru’s cock and practically creaming around it. you wriggle back on him until he’s completely bottomed out inside of you — balls deep while you ooze against his pelvis and heavy balls. “need you to fuck me…”

that’s all it takes for your stranger turned lover to give his all to you. he drops his sweaty chest to your back, pulling his chubby cock from the snugness of your heat as his teeth take purchase in your shoulders — leaving a litter of love bites your uniform will barely cover once the night is over. suguru is possessive of his belongings, like you and his little sister — the bites are his claim on you. 

in one powerful move, you’re full to the brim with rock hard cock — deep in your guts, churning them up and spreading lust like a wildfire through your weak body. you feel dwarfed underneath him. despite being pinned to the floor, you still manage to rock your hips back against suguru and suck more of him into your cute, quivering cunt. it just about helps him set a steady stream to his meaningful thrusts.

wet slapping sounds echo throughout the back room of the bakery, accompanied by your meek mewls and gasps for air the faster suguru pounds into your warmth. fat droplets of precum smear along your soaked and ripe insides, ready to be bred by suguru. ready to be marked by him. you feel like you belong to him like a treasured pet and you don’t even mind it. your pussy blossoms for him like that of a japanese cherry blossom in the spring time — or iris flowers, shobu, in their iconic shade of purple. like the bruises he’s left on your back. 

oh, you’re just perfect for suguru. you fulfil all of his sister-fucking fantasies, even your moans sound like hers when she would get off in her room — thinking no one could hear her. he loves this, he might even love you — the way you feel wrapped around him, reaching for the stars in your eyes. it feels like you’re made for him, with the way you clamp down on his oozing mushroomed tip and squirm about underneath him.

your pussy barely lets go of geto when he draws his hips back, but every time he fucks down into him — your fluttering hole stretches to accommodate his creamy thickness. it creates the perfect pathway for the dark haired man to bully your g-spot in a way that makes you scream for more. “you’re perfect for me…fuck, you’re so perfect,” suguru intimately whispers into your skin from behind, his hands smoothing over yours as you claw at the floor to ground yourself from the overwhelming ecstasy. he thinks he understands why satoru had fucked his sister now — there’s something so satisfying about corrupting someone. taking their innocence with your dick. “should i keep you like this? on my aching cock forever?” 

“y-yes please!” you squeal, succumbing to your body’s biological will, cunt spitting droplets of arousal all over suguru. he’s barely able to pull out of you, his dick on lockdown inside of your core. there’s hardly any space between you both any more, the air vibrating with electrifying lust and the scent of sex. 

you coo and cry out for your newfound lover, your ass and the backs of your thighs burning from how hard his skin slaps against your own. you hardly care about the pain for its overlapped with ecstasy like sea water on a sandy shore. “you’re such a good…good fucking girl for me. for your big brother,” suguru loses track of his words, his mind lagging behind his mouth and his hips that relentlessly pound you into the ground. over the sound of sex you think that you’ve misheard him, but then his voice rises an octave and in volume as he continues to moan out your praises — succumbing to your gratifying and ichorous cunt latching onto the veins spiralling around his dick. “oh my precious little sister… taking me so fucking well—!”

in that moment, all of the guilt suguru has ever felt for leaving his sister, for ruining her relationship and fleeing to new york, for thinking of her while fucking you… it all comes rushing back. he stops thrusting, freezing in place above you while his cock twitches along your insides. 

“f-fuck i—“ he starts to apologise, but the cry you let out stops him. 

“nii-san,” you whine petulantly, fat tears gathering in your lash line. “d-don’t stop! please keep fucking me, fuck me harder. make me cum, make me scream, make me—!” your words are cut off by suguru’s fingers wrapping around your delicate neck from behind, giving it a gentle squeeze. he resumes his thrusts, a little harsher and more carelessly coordinated than before, once he realises that maybe you’re just as sick and twisted as him. calling him big brother while he uses you for a dirty fuck in place of his younger adopted sibling… 

you like this just as much as he does.

suguru knows you’re perfect, perhaps even more so than his little sister. he uses his grip on your throat to tug your head back while he fucks you silly, slotting his mouth against yours in a salacious and sinful kiss. “onii-san, hm?” he forces his tongue over yours, moaning into your mouth pathetically as he reverts back to his mother-tongue. “you want your onii-san to fuck you, imouto? make you cum again?”

“please, please, please onii-san! g-gotta cum f’you…g’na cum. c-close!” comes your brainless babble while you fall into a cockdrunk state. 

“you beg so pretty for your big brother, sweet little thing. i should fill you up, breed this greedy little cunt for all its worth, right?” suguru’s mind grows as foggy as yours, copious amounts of his precum pouring into you and dripping down your swollen slit. it’s a mess, everything is disgustingly messy — this situation, the fact that you’re so eagerly calling him your big brother, the fact that he’s fucking you because you remind him of his sibling. but neither of you give a shit, not when you feel so fucking good you swear you’re seeing the pearly gates. 

“g-god! please sugu, please nii-san, i need it. need you!” the slow roll of your hips contrasts with geto’s ever increasing slap of skin on skin, your mix of arousals crudely seeping down his balls and to the floor below. the point at which your bodies join starts to forth as well. 

“is that so…?” suguru hums attentively, grinning ear to ear at how you play into this immoral dynamic. it fuels the fire of lust burning through him, setting his lungs alight and ruining his chances at breathing. his thrusts become erratic, his cockhead married to your g-spot, and he finds himself growing more and more excited about the sight of his cum leaking from your ravaged hole. “you must really like it when your big brother fucks you — hm, lillith baby? do you like how deep i can get, deep in your tummy?” he continues to ramble, grabbing your ass cheeks to peel them apart — letting out a deep and wild gripe from his chest at the sight of strings of your clear arousal glueing the fleshy globes together. “love how you throw it back on me. keep coating your nii-san’s cock in your pretty juices. gush for me, make me shine with your cum.” 

you nod and do as geto says, simpering out for even more while you work yourself back on his swelling girth as it shines with milky white. you can no longer keep up with what’s happening, your brain actually lags at the way your faux big brother coos your name while your sexes sing a lewd song of pap, pap, pap. lust courses through your veins and burns at your nerve endings, you should feel disgusted with yourself but nothing makes sense. you feel like you’re high, and you don’t want to come back down. at this point, all you can do is lay down and take it, clenching around suguru’s hard cock where it counts — pulling more precum from his heavy breeder’s balls. 

“nii-san…more, ‘m right there—“ you sob, reaching back with bambi eyes that plead for another kiss. you allow suguru to fuck you at his own free will, too weak to keep up.

“right here, imouto? against this sweet spot, baby sis?” you get a little tighter every time he calls you his little sister, creaming around his base and crying out his name as if it’s a fucking prayer. “you want me to breed you that bad, baby sis? want my cum deep in your little sister cunt?” 

you beg for it through tears and suguru makes you cum again just like he promised. your third orgasm of the night renders you completely useless, a silent scream tearing in your throat while you seizes up and trap suguru deep inside of your fluttering cunt. it’s so fucking cute to him, how much you gush when you orgasm, like a rushing river that never stops flowing. it’s almost as if the flood gates have opened up or heaven has rained down on geto’s fat cock. 

that’s all he needs for his own orgasm to be triggered, he collapses on top of you from behind as he empties his balls inside of your womb with a shout of your name. “‘m sorry little one, ‘m sorry… so fucking sorry.” he says hoarsely, cock pulsing while a wave of his cream lines your pussy from the inside — he doesn’t ever let up, fucking you through it all until both of your sexes are raw and abused beyond repair. “i love you, baby sis… imouto. s-shit, i love you so much.” your hole burns by the time suguru comes down, and you swear he feels bigger now that his dick is swollen with his orgasm. 

suguru is still cumming in spurts when he pulls out of you with a hiss, painting your puffy folds white, the rest leaking out of your entrance. “im so sorry… I have no idea where that came from…” he starts to apologise tiredly. “that was…”

you remain silent for a moment, mulling over what to say next as suguru rolls off of you, and lays by your side quietly. you flip onto your back, staring up at the artificial lights hanging from the ceiling. you liked this, whatever the hell it was… even if it meant he was fucking you to fuck his unresolved feelings out for his sister. 

“amazing… yeah.” is the response that you settle on. 

“that’s…that’s not what i meant.” 

“and i know that! you don’t have to apologise,” you cut him off abruptly, keeping your voice softly. “i liked it, whatever weird kink this is, it made me feel good.” 

geto flushes hot all over, sheepishly running a hand through his sweaty black locks. “my sister… she’s not seriously my blood sister. she’s adopted and—“ he’s so sheepish and right after ruining you beyond belief that it makes you laugh in pure amusement. “a-and i like you! quite a bit. i know this was… strange… but with your permission. i’d like to keep seeing you.”

“and fucking me?” you tease, tucking yourself into the man’s side while nuzzling your face into his neck. he smells like you, he smells like sex…but you’re satisfied.

his arm loosely wraps around your waist, thumbing over any bruises he might have left there. “that too.” 

“what about the gifts?” 

“those won’t stop either.” 

finally, you sit up, looming over geto as you tuck your braids behind your ear and out of your face. cupping suguru’s jaw, you lean over him and place a somewhat upside down kiss to the man’s lips — then brush over their cherry red bruising. “then you have yourself a deal — now please help me clean up, sugu. i don’t want to get fired.” 

it’s his turn to laugh next. “i’ll just take care of all your expenses if you do.” 

you roll your eyes.

this new dynamic, this new fling…it’s unhealthy, yeah. but as long as suguru has someone like you to look out for and need him. he thinks he’ll be okay. 

getting over his sister was the key to healing. just like his purple nailed therapist had said — so focusing on you was healing him. before either of you can move to help clean up, suguru reaches up slowly and cups your neck tenderly. he brings you down to his level, his fingers wrapping around the silver chain swinging loosely from your neck before pressing a kiss to the amethyst pendant there.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

#suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #geto x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #geto smut #geto x reader #suguru geto #jjk thirst #suguru geto x you #geto x y/n #geto thirst #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #angelshubnetwork #tw: dark content

[mockerycrow]

okkk since my last ask went so Amazingly well (I have read it at least 7 to 20 times)

could you do reader with like almost constantly cold hands? like not extremely cold hands, but enough that it's noticeable? I'm just imagining reader (you could use the Cinder callsign again or whatever you feel works best) maybe patching up a wound and whoever (x gaz again??? again, whoever you feel like is best) is surprised by the sudden coldness

anyway no pressure to answer this, I can't wait for whatever you write next <33333 (also this is totally me projecting my cold hands if this feels super random)

Sweater Weather (Gaz x GN!Reader)

gaz masterlist - crow’s mega masterlist

So now, let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater.

A/N: YET ANOTHER BANGER PROMPT FROM YOU!!! AND ITS FOR GAZ I LOVE HIM SO MUCH!! I hope you get my song reference hehe. i’m also happy you enjoyed the last fic you requested <3 feel free to send in more requests! This is also lowkey a part 2 to your previous request, but it could be a standalone. Cinder is your callsign.

[WARNINGS: minor descriptions of minor injuries, medical inaccuracies, humor, fluff!]

By this point in time, you and Gaz were two peas in a pod. You were the latest person to join the task force, the last for now, but surely not the least. Everyone had their own set of gear and clothing, their own ways of getting into the right headspaces for missions, and everyone had their own things that they had with them at all times. Price always had his cigars, Ghost always had his mask, Soap always had his sketchbook, and Gaz always had a baseball cap with him. You? You always had gloves on. Not on your person, but always on your hands. The only times the team likely saw you without them is when you were exiting the bathroom, but then again, you were slipping them back on after you had washed your hands.

It perplexed Gaz. He understood everyone else’s reasons and items—Price is admittedly addicted to cigars, Ghost is just.. Ghost, Soap’s sketchbook helps him calm down and document things, his own hat was a comfort for him in the field.. But your gloves made no sense. To be fair, he didn’t notice right away. Many people wear gloves in the field to protect their hands, even on the hottest days, they’ll wear gloves and sweat in them until their fingertips prune from the moisture. You? You always, always wore them inside. On base. In your room… While eating— The point is, you always wore them. No matter the situation. It has him—and likely the others-wondering why exactly you do this. The few times they’ve seen your hands without gloves, none of them were close enough to see if you were, for some reason, hiding scars, perhaps hand tattoos, just something that would make sense.

Gaz ended up sporting himself a nasty split lip after an enemy managed to bash his head into a door frame, a wound that definitely needed stitches. It was the lower lip, off-center to the right with blood dribbling down his chin. Everyone was split up on the mission— You and Gaz were paired together, while Soap and Price were also paired. Ghost was operating alone for some stealth work. He’s sitting down on an old wooden chair in a house you two have held up in for the night. You open your duffel bag by the south wall, which is front of Gaz. You rummage around for the medical kit you began to bring everywhere after you fell through the floor a few months ago. “I don’t think we have too much further to go.” Gaz commented, glancing at the boarded up window to his left. There was a small sliver between the boards, allowing him to see that the sun is setting.

“Stop talking, you’ll agitate your lip.” You scold softly, grabbing the handle of the medical kit and you pull it out of the stuffed duffel bag. You glance over at him to see him quietly—yet playfully—mocking you under his breath. Sometimes you’re convinced he spends too much time with Soap, but then you always remember in the back of your mind, he’s more-so playful around you than anyone else. You walk over and place it on the table next to Gaz, opening the latches and pushing the top open. You look into the box and blink rapidly when you don’t see any disposable gloves. You then pick up packages of gauze, the small plastic container holding the medical thread, you practically rearrange everything and yet, it seems they were not packed. “Fuck.” You curse under your breath. You let out a sigh as Gaz asks you, “Cinder? What’s wrong?”

You tear the velcro off of the wrist part of your glove and slip it off, repeating the process with your other glove. “Whoever packaged this medical kit didn’t add disposable gloves, and my gloves are dirty as hell.” You mumble, even slightly pouting about it. Gaz raises an eyebrow at your attitude, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. You grab a bottle of antiseptic and you put your finger up as without looking at him, you already know he’s about to say something snarky. “Open your mouth again and I’ll use this tourniquet on your damn neck.”

Gaz bursts out laughing, causing you to roll your eyes and smile yourself. You pop open and cap and pour the antiseptic onto your hands, the extra liquid splattering against the floor and onto your boots. You set the bottle down and grab a needle and take out some thread. Despite the calm mood between you two, Gaz is still on high alert. You can tell by his posture, the way his eyes flicker towards the boarded up windows, the barricaded door.. On one hand, you wish you could reassure him but you’re also still on high alert, especially after witnessing Gaz get his face bashed. You quietly thread the string through the needles hole, turning to Gaz completely. You grab his jaw to turn his head and this man physically flinches, muttering, “Bloody hell, your hands are cold.”

You laugh as you position his head for the best angle that you need, bringing the needle close to his lips. “Why do you think I’m wearing gloves all the time, Gaz?” Your eyebrows furrow inward slightly as you begin to concentrate, hoping to distract him from the pain of the needle piercing his skin. “Even in the hotter areas our missions were in, my hands would be sweating, yet they were cold.”

Gaz blinks in surprise, completely forgetting about the needle that is about to enter his skin. That’s why you wore gloves all the time? It wasn’t because of a big secret you were hiding? No scars? No tattoos?

You were cold?

Gaz stares at your scrunched face he begins to feel a bit stupid, as he never considered that as a possibility.

#call of duty #call of duty mwii #cod mw2 #mw2022 #mw2 2022 #mw2 fanfic #modern warfare ii #cod #gaz #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x you #kyle garrick x you #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle gaz garrick x reader #cod mwii #cod gaz #gaz cod #gaz call of duty #gaz mw2 #gaz modern warfare #kyle gaz garrick cod #mwii #mw2 x reader #call of duty mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #songfic

[lady-ashfade]

What ever it takes. Pt2.

Yandere Alicent & Aemond x Sister/daughter reader. Miniseries.

What ever it takes. Part Two. Part three. Alternate ending.

Plot: Your obsessive mother and twin brother are on the hunt to find you after you had been taken. They would stop at nothing to get you back into their arms, may the seven forgive the poor souls who dare harm you.

Hope this is a good sequel- Also this is Aemonds chapter.

Word count: 1103

Taglist: @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @helloitsshitzulover @second-try-stevie @a-dorkier-book-keeper

Warnings: Yandere thrist for blood. Blood, violence, female abuse, being kidnapped and chained.  No real statement of the targaryen way of love...If you know what I mean. Mistakes, writing errors. 

It’s been a full week since you had felt the comfort of your home and you missed it deeply. You began to wonder if you would ever see it again. You missed to soft sheets on your bed and how you laid on it comfortably, you missed the gardens you walked daily and most of all you missed your family. How you could remember your mothers soft and kind embrace, holding you so dearly.

Now you had no soft place to sleep, you couldn’t walk do to the pain in your feet by the chains, no soft touch or even seeing the sun as more then a tiny hole through a crack in the wall. You didn’t know much about where you were but the men here hated you but they had not do what any normal men would do. You were thankful for that. But they had no problem hurting you and sometimes you wondered if it would be the last time and finally kill you.

Sitting on the cold stone floor you had your back against the wall to get some rest. You felt weak and so cold that everything that happened just felt like one day to you. You hadn’t had more the a small piece of dry bread in a week and they only gave you water every two days. After your time here you learned why they took you: Their boss had wanted to get gold and land for returning you which didn’t seem that smart to you.

Opening your eyes as you heard the echoes through the halls of screaming men and it panicked you. But being weak you couldn’t even move more then a inch. Maybe it was your savior, or someone who wanted you dead. Who ever it was you had to wait to use your last ounce of strength.

The smell of burnt flesh carried its way through the air as the bodies of burnt men surrounding Aemond and a man on his knees. Blood leaking onto the ground the man groaned in pain, he began and pleaded for mercy to the prince. Aemond just smirked and grabbed him by the armor he was wearing and stared right into his eyes, “You stole my sister,” he put pressure on the wound but more then it should be and the man lets out a cry. “Let the last thing you see is my pleasured face as I feed you to my dragon.” He dragged the man and dropped him in front of vhagar.

Aemond moved out of the way and watched as his blood splatter everywhere with a sick smirk in his face. His focus the turned to walk passed the already dead bodies and into the old stone palace, he rushed through and saw no one in sight. “Y/n?!” He called out for his sister but no answer. He looked between the different hallway and he choses the one to the right and walked down the cold hallway.

He shouted again and all he heard was silents. His chest filled with guilt and the twisting thoughts stayed the same. He wanted to cover the walls in red with the blood of everyone who took you. Feeding him to his dragon or them dying by fire was a mercy kill. He hopes a few were still alive so he could make them see just who they messed with. Maybe bring a few of their body parts as a gift for his mother.

His head turned at a sound coming from the end of the hall and he rushed to the door. “Stay still.” He heard a voice from inside trying to hush someone so he opened the door quickly. Standing over a chained woman with a knife in his hands, it was her. His darling sister looked weak but still managed to use her last strength to stop the knife.

“You’re a dead man.” Before anyone could reacted the man was pulled of her and thrown on the ground. “You think you could do this.” He knocked the blade out of his hand and held him down as he tried to fight back. “My love is not someone you fuck with.” Grabbing the man’s neck he pushed down and tightened his grip to choke the man.



“She is mine. Mine to protect. And a targaryen doesn’t like to lose what’s theirs, but don’t worry my mother will know just what to do.” Grabbing the back of his head he lifted it up and smashed in into the floor. Knocking the man out he laughed. The sound coming from his stomach is a happy, evil and dark laugh. What Aemond would do to just kill the man here and now with his bare fucking hands.

“Aemond..”

The small raspy voice called out to him and he had forgotten all about his wrath and the light was brought back into him. “My darling.” He moved off the man and came to her side while lifting her up. “I am here to bring you home.” She was covered in dirt and the darkness around her eyes wasn’t what he was focused on. It was the swollen bruises and cuts on her face.

He wanted blood. He wanted to kill. He wanted revenge. 

“Seven hells.” He grabbed the chain and broke it off with the handle of his sword and it made her twitch. “Shh my love.” He tried to calm her. Once she was free of it all he picked her up into his arms. “Darling?” He looked down and her eyes fully closed and her chest barely moving.

“My prince?” A voice called from behind him again. It was one of the guards that was sent to help him but he got here first. “That man is to be brought to the dungeons and anyone else you can find. The queen wants them alive.” He walked out outside and placed her in the carriage they brought in hopes of finding her. Vhagar knew she’d have to fly home but it wasn’t that far, she was also sad she didn’t get to kill anyone else. She felt the same way her rider did about y/n. A bound shares between the two.

“You’ll be home soon.” He whispered as he kissed your head. He held you the whole way back to the castle and screamed at the driver to drive faster. He wished he could take you on vhagar but there was no way he could ensure your safety.

“I will spill more blood for you. Do what ever it takes to make sure you’re safe forever….”



#house or the dragon #yandere house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon x reader #yandere house of the dragon #yandere aemond targaryen #yandere alicent hightower #Aemond’s targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #Alicent Hightower x reader #Yandere Alicent Hightower x reader #yandere Aemond’s targaryen x reader #hotd #yandere x reader

[madame-wilsonn]

Hold me, love me, touch me

(Be the first who ever did)

MASTERLIST

Request: "it’s breaking my heart to see you like this" - maybe for Tommy? — @thesoldiersminute​

Summary: If you hold me without hurting me / You’ll be the first who ever did 

or: after running away from Grace’s funeral, Tommy finds some comfort in your arms

A/N: this is veryyyy different to what I usually post but i’ve had this idea for so long!! It’s inspired by a few scenes from the show as well as a few LDR songs. I would just like to add this quote from California because it fits the story well:

You don't ever have to be stronger than you really are When you're lying in my arms, baby You don't ever have to go faster than your fastest pace Or faster than my fastest cars

Also big big big thank you to my pal @hauntedheathcliff​ and my bg @huntingingoodwill for helping me out, i don’t think i would have finished and posted it if they weren’t here!! this is the first very long one shot i post, I hope you all enjoy because i’ve been working really hard on this and i think i got too attached to it oops…anyway have fun!! <3

Warnings: mentions of death, war and just angst overall; a bit of fluff (old habits die hard)

Word count: 6,464 words

Thunder rumbled. Its echo reverberating on the tall trees.

Tommy could almost hear it.

The grieving sky screaming. The leaves whispering. Murmuring the same haunting chant over and over.

She’s dead. He killed her. She’s dead. He killed her.

His vision blurred. For an instant, he thought he was finally crying until he noticed the rain. It was raining.

A drop. Then another. And another. And another.

The tears rolling down Tommy’s peaked cap turned into weeping. The sky wailed its pain, crying the tears the widowed man didn’t have.

He couldn’t bring himself to.

Was he so broken even the death of his wife wouldn’t affect him?

The man brought the half-empty bottle of whiskey to his lips. The golden liquid cast a gentle warmth on his entire being. Tommy welcomed it, only wincing as the taste burnt his lips.

At least he could still feel that.

The reason he couldn’t cry for his late wife, he knew it.

That very reason made him cower with shame. Run away from her mourning family. Hide from his own son who, only aged two, reminded him so much of her.

But how could he cry for a woman he had never been in love with?

He swallowed another sip.

No matter how many times he had foolishly tried to convince himself, he was never in love.

He cared for her. He was loyal. He was devoted.

But never in love.

No, his heart belonged to another.

He chugged at the bottle, drinking until he couldn’t breathe and his head felt dizzy.

He closed his eyes, the heavy rain making him shiver.

Her image, engraved on his eyelids, shook his heart. She had always been aware of it. There was a distance, a wall between them. He didn’t look at her the way she wanted him to— no spark, no tenderness in his gaze. They shared a house and a family but that’s all they would ever have.

If Tommy married Grace, despite her betrayal, it was only to do right by her.

And he never regretted it.

Thomas Shelby wasn’t a man of many regrets.

He was a man of guilt.

Marrying a woman he didn’t love to preserve her reputation— to protect her— just to get her killed instead.

That was all him.

He stared blankly at his hands, an empty chuckle leaving his lips.

Those hands. Dripping with innocent blood.

So much blood.

Blood on her porcelain skin. Blood on her powder pink dress. Blood on his pristine white shirt. Blood. Everywhere.

And it was all his fault.

Gulp.

If there was one thing worse than being responsible for Grace's death, it was the shame he felt.

Even dead, he couldn’t give her what she desired. He couldn’t mourn for her the way everyone expected him to. His heart couldn’t break for her the way it should because it never belonged to her in the first place.

Gulp.

His son was going to grow up without his mother. Tommy knew how that felt. It was the last thing he wished for Charlie. To grow up the way he did.

Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.

The last drop of ember liquid slid down his throat and Tommy stared at the clear glass. There was no consolation. No rest for him. Not here. And certainly not at the bottom of that bottle.

He got up suddenly, stumbling through the large field into his car. Glancing at his pallid face in the rearview mirror, he sighed.

There was only one place Tommy could hope to find comfort tonight.

A soft knock on the door tore you from your thoughts. A swift glance at the clock pointed to the late hour as you slipped your robe on. You crossed your apartment warily, wondering who could visit in the middle of the night. Who could be brave— or stupid enough to defy the pouring rain outside?

You opened the door slowly, your heart pounding in apprehension.

“Tommy?” You opened the door slowly, heart pounding in apprehension. “Gosh, Tom, you must be freezing! A-are you okay?” you quickly ushered him inside.

Grabbing his coat and cap, you handed him a dry towel.

You hadn’t seen him since the morning, at the funeral. He left after his speech, handing Charlie to Polly and taking his car.

His brothers spent hours searching for him but it was useless. If Thomas Shelby decided he didn’t want to be found, then nobody would.

You hesitated for a moment. Maybe you should warn Polly or Ada, tell them he was with you.

Instead, you brought a comforting hand to his soaked arm. “Would you like me to make you some tea?”

“No, it’s alright. I…I don’t even know why I came here,” he slurred, his eyes darting around— always avoiding you.

Guiding him towards the sofa, you managed to get a better look at him.

To say he seemed tired was a euphemism. His eyes lacked their usual spark and his skin had a sick, grayish tone. He had aged twenty years in about a week.

Your heart clenched in your chest as the memory of the young man he used to be appeared. His clear laugh rang out somewhere in your mind and you thought about the long nights spent with the other. Up there, on the roof of some abandoned factory, dreaming of a gilded future.

“Do you think you can get up? My brother left some clothes here, you could change into something dry.”

Tommy took a cigarette out from the pocket of his black jacket. You observed him, watching the same ritual you’ve witnessed countless times. The cigarette between his lips, he muttered “It’s fine,” before inhaling the smoke. “I should go anyway. Shouldn’t have bothered you so late at night. ‘M sorry.”

Your hand reached for his. “No. You’re not going anywhere, Tom.”

He observed you as he felt your thumb running against his skin. Such a simple gesture yet it took Tommy a moment to recognize the small display of affection.

Your touch sent shivers down his spine, different from the ones he felt because of the cold— enjoyable. He decided to focus on the warmth emanating from your hand, sitting back down.

He wondered when was the last time someone had been so tender with him. The last time touch didn’t rhyme with broken bones and bruises. The last time he seemed important enough to be handled with care and gentleness.

“Hey,” you announced softly, taking a seat next to Tommy. “How’s your arm doing?”

He took a swig straight out of the bottle of champagne. You instantly recognized the “gift” offered by Grace as he handed it to you. “Feels like it's been shot,” he shrugged, his gaze fixed on his passed-out brothers.

Sighing, you swallowed some of the bubbly liquid again. Even though a part of you was thrilled to see the blonde barmaid gone— you had been wishing for that ever since she stepped into town— seeing Tommy so heartbroken snatched the joy away.

To your dismay, her arrival in Small Heath brought back parts of him you thought were lost in some deserted french field. It shattered your heart to see his smile, the somehow sparkling eyes, the lightness in his demeanor every time—and only when she was around. 

And yet, if it meant him being happy again, then you could deal with the disappointment and the jealousy and the yearning. You could handle watching his joy from afar. Even if you weren’t the reason behind his smile, even if you weren’t part of it. You just wanted him to be happy.

But it was all a lie.

Who would have thought it was merely a scheme?

Probably the oldest one in the book— to get close to the man in charge and trick him into handing the information on a silver platter. No one suspected her. Not even Polly.

She had managed to fool all of you, the same way you’d fool a child into drinking some nasty medicine.

“And you?” you finally ask, turning your head to observe Tommy. “How are you?”

You noticed the clench in his jaw, the pause—a fraction of a second too long before answering “Good.”

"Really good or ‘just leave me alone’ good?”

He grabbed the bottle from your hands, staying quiet and you took this as a sign to ask again. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

One of the things Tommy cherished the most in your relationship was his ability to be honest with you. You seemed to understand, or at least accept what others qualified as flaws. He knew he could ask you to go away if he wanted to without upsetting you. It comforted him in some way. 

But then, the thought of you leaving made his heart clench painfully in his chest. The swirl of emotions was too much. Too much for him to deal with alone.

His hand searched for yours, squeezing it gently. The words didn’t need to be uttered. You sat closer to him and for some reason Tommy couldn’t understand, his head rested on your shoulder.

It wasn’t calculated. He didn’t even think of it.

One minute he was carrying his heavy heart alone. The next, you stood by him and lifted some of the burden away.

Your fingers made their way to the shaved part of his head and Tommy closed his eyes. He could forget about everything. Forget about the throbbing pain in his arm. Forget about Danny Whizzbang. Forget about her.

He could just lean on you for a little bit. Focus on the feeling of your nails grazing his skin. Let the faint scent of aldehydes wrapped in roses suffocate the demons in his mind.

“I don’t want you to blame yourself, Tom,” you whispered after a moment of silence.

He scoffed and you brought your hands to his face, lifting his head from your shoulder. “I’m serious,” the fierce look in your eyes confirmed your words. “It could have happened to any of us. And you’ve been through so much. You wanted to believe you could finally allow yourself some peace,” your thumbs ran across his cheekbones. “It was with the wrong person but you still deserve it. You deserve good things.”

Tommy stared at you, almost bewildered. How could you say those words to him— and believe them when you knew what he was? He wondered if your friendship affected your judgment. Made you less able to separate the man he was from the memories you had with him.

As if you had been reading through his mind, you interrupted his ruminations. “I know you’ve convinced yourself you were all bad and evil but you’re wrong. The voices in your head are wrong. There is still good in you, Tom. I know there is, I can see it,” your hand slid from his cheek, dropping to his heart. “Right here.”

Tommy could only observe you. The determination in your voice, the earnestness in your eyes, you were convinced with your own speech. So much that a part of him began to trust you.

You smiled softly at him and he swore he felt his heart miss a beat. “You’re going to meet a nice girl. And she’ll be funny and sweet. And she’ll probably have the patience of a saint to deal with your stubborn arse.” He couldn’t help but chuckle at your remark. “But she’ll love you more than anything else and she’ll be lucky because you’ll love her just the same.”

And while Tommy listened intently, the only thing he could think about was you.

Everything you described. Everything you said.

You. You. You.

It was you.

Tommy pressed his palms against his eyes until light dots appeared in his vision. He was beyond exhausted. His head, his arms, his legs ached. His entire body was begging him to surrender. Wave the white flag and give up.

He didn’t know how many battles he could still fight. How many blows he could still stomach. How many times his heart could still be torn apart and keep going.

If all of this was extra, why did it hurt so much?

“I called Polly,” you cut Tommy’s train of thoughts, entering the living room. “Charlie’s alright, he’s asleep now. She is staying at Arrow House with Ada.”

Tommy sighed, his gaze fixed on his trembling fingers. You observed him quietly, noticing the habit he had when something bothered him. He kept clenching his jaw anxiously. To the point you worried he might dislocate it.

Trying to catch his attention, you cleared your throat. Once. Twice.

And realizing he was far too gone into his own mind, you lightly touched his shoulder.

“You should get some rest. You’re tired.”

“I’m alright,” the response was short. Cold.

Anyone else would have backed down. Apologized, even. But you sat next to him, your concern only growing and decided to ask, “When was the last time you slept, hm?”

The dead silence that followed said it all.

You shook your head, a desperate sigh filling the quiet room with your worry.

“I wish there was something I could do,” your fingers brushed against his damp hair. “It’s breaking my heart to see you like this, Tom”

He stared at you, feeling your breath tickling his cheeks— the soft summer breeze embracing him after a hot, straining day.

And something in the air shifted.

Maybe it was the comfort Tommy found in your eyes. Maybe it was the way his heartbeat seemed to chant your name. Maybe he just wanted to.

But he leaned in.

His lips caressed yours, almost timidly before he moved closer. He was kissing you. The dwindling ember ablaze at the sweet taste of your lips mixed with whiskey and tobacco. A precious nectar Tommy knew he could never live without now that he had tasted it.

It seemed to be the only way to bring air into his lungs. Yet somehow, he felt breathless at the same time.

The feeling of his lips— so strangely soft made you dizzy. Your brain didn’t seem to work properly as you kissed him back. Tommy. Kissing you.

You almost giggled, a warm rush spreading in your chest and your head and everywhere in your body.

The only thing keeping you from bursting in flames was the cold. From his hands. His shirt. His hair twirling around your fingers.

You relished it. Cherished his calloused skin against yours. The dazzled lightness in the air.

At that moment, you were no more than a simple woman. And he was a simple man. Kissing you so passionately in the faint twilight.

Your hand touched his, grazing the golden band on his finger and you felt the bubble around you explode.

You weren’t a simple woman. He was far from a simple man.

You pushed him away, regretfully. Your body was almost leaning in again, craving more of the electricity skipping through your veins.

You wanted to be his. And him to be yours.

But not like this.

You knew Tommy like you knew your way back home. He couldn’t address his grief properly. He had never really learned, even after years of practice. The only thing he was used to was taking the pain away, no matter how. No matter the consequences he’d have to face.

And you were well aware of that.

Tommy wasn’t kissing you out of love or even out of desire. He was kissing you to feel better. You couldn’t let that happen. Not to him. Certainly not to you.

But the look he gave you as he realized what you had done made you want to throw it all away.

To hell with morals and honorable principles!

Who needed that when you could kiss him over and over again? When all you had to care about was his heart pounding against your palm, raindrops cooling down your flushed cheeks.

“Tom…” you resigned yourself.

No, you couldn’t just throw it all away. He was mourning his dead wife and he was in pain. You couldn’t take advantage of that.

His hand left your waist as if it had burnt him and guilt soon replaced the gentle warmth in your chest. But it was for the best.

At least, you tried to convince yourself it was.

The terrible humiliation was nothing compared to the regret he’d feel as the sunlight cleared his mind. He couldn’t realize it now. Too intoxicated, protected by the moon’s sheltering shimmer.

You had to keep your composure. Don’t let yourself be fooled by the comforting embrace. It was all an illusion. Giving in meant feeding the sliver of desire you tried so hard to contain.

You couldn’t live off some false hope.

You couldn’t risk your own sanity just so he could choose her.

Not again.

Running through the empty halls of the company, heart pounding in your chest with worry, you prayed.

Please let him be there. Please make sure he’s safe. Please. Please. Please.

Your heels hit the hardwood floor, each step resonating through the halls of the empty building. Out of breath, you almost fell to the ground when the engraved glass doors appeared in front of you— at last, liberation.

You pushed them open, not paying attention to the sound of the slamming doors. A relieved sigh left your lips, your gaze falling on him.

In his armchair, almost asleep, Tommy didn’t budge at the noise. He lazily opened one eye, observing your disheveled hair, how breathless you were. Sitting up, questions bubbling in his chest, he opened his mouth but you interrupted him before he could say a word.

“Where the fuck have you been, eh?” you yelled, walking into the office. Tommy left his chair, carefully joining you in the middle of the room. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

He only stared at you, waiting for the anger to settle down. He realized how worried you must have been, how terrified it was to not find him after he left so suddenly. But he could only feel relief.

Two hours ago, he was kneeling in front of a grave, waiting to be shot. And now, he was with you, getting a well-deserved earful for disappearing.

Tommy had probably never been this happy to get yelled at.

“…And nobody knew where the fuck you were! And then there were shots and we were all running around, even got my new shoes ruined!” you rambled, your hands waving around. “Arthur told me it was over but I couldn’t find you! I searched everywhere, even asked that posh girl who looked after your horse! And I swear to God, someday I will put a leash on you! Disappearing like that! I-“ You stopped abruptly, your expression changing as you noticed the bright red staining Tommy’s temple “You’re bleeding. Why are you bleeding? What…”

“I’m okay,” he replied softly, feeling a change in the air. You closed the distance between you, your hands reaching for the injury.

“What happened to you?” You whispered, your voice higher than before.

Thomas’s hand wrapped yours and he smiled, trying to reassure you. “I survived, Y/N. I’m alive.”

Your lips wobbled, eyes watering and your anger wafted away, replaced by a gut-wrenching worry.

The words he uttered to you at the races before he left took on their full meaning. You couldn’t realize it at the time but the way he looked at you, the way he kissed your temple and promised to come back.

It had felt a little too familiar but you couldn’t remember why.

He was saying goodbye, that’s why. He promised something he wasn’t sure he would keep just to assure your peace of mind.

Suddenly, you were back on the train platform, watching him walk away to a most certain death, completely powerless.

You almost lost him today. Again.

He was gone but then he came back.

Maybe there was a reason. Maybe you were granted a second chance after letting the first one go. Who knew if you would get another?

You couldn’t waste it.

You couldn’t let your last chance slip through your fingers.

You couldn’t risk losing him.

Not without him knowing about your feelings.

“Tommy, I…”

His arms wrapped around your waist stopped the words on the tip of your tongue. He held you close, so close his heart beat right over your ear. One gentle kiss on your temple. His fingers threading through your hair, you closed your eyes.

“I’ll buy you new shoes. I’ll buy you all the shoes you wish for. Even hire a cobbler just for you,” he whispered, tightening his embrace.

“Forget about the shoes…” you started, trying to find the right words.

But what could you say?

Nothing seemed enough. All so insignificant compared to the love you carried like a cherished picture in a locket— always close to your heart.

“I have to tell you something,” he interrupted, a soft smile brightening his expression. “I’m going to be a father.”

“What?” you asked, leaning back.

“Grace’s pregnant with my baby. I’m going to marry her and we’ll raise him together.”

And the world seemed to crumble around you.

Who knew a sentence as simple as this could have the same effect as a thousand cuts?

You could only stare at him, your mind playing the words over and over again— a broken record you were doomed to endure for the rest of your days.

Your eyes burnt with bitter tears attempting to escape their prison. A million questions rushed through your brains, striking each other until nothing made sense.

Not her. Not her. Anyone but her.

You would find another way. Raise the child yourself if you had to. But not her.

He couldn’t fall for her again. You had to talk him out of it. Reason with him.

You couldn’t lose him like this.

“Y/N?”

You focused your attention back on Tommy, noticing the frown forming between his brows.

He expected your answer. Hell, his decision probably depended on your next words. But the idea of a baby…

He had given up on that.

The dreams of a happy, somewhat normal life had been buried in the tunnels. Covered in mud. Lying next to the decaying bodies of his comrades.

And now, it was so close to him. He could reach through the mud and get this life back. He could try to leave the war behind. Let a new life forgive all the lost ones.

Let the flowers grow over the old tunnels.

You bit the inside of your cheek. No, you couldn’t ruin that for him. He went through enough. He deserved some rest.

No matter how selfish you wanted to be, he would always be above all foolish sentiments.

A forced, poorly attempted smile made its way on your face— locking the tears away.

“I’m just…I’m so happy for you,” your voice broke as relief washed over his tired features. He hugged you again, chuckling. “You’re going to be a wonderful father,” there was no hesitation. Only the truth.

“And you’ll be an even more wonderful aunt,” he kissed your cheek, rubbing your back. “Don’t tell Ada I said this.”

You clutched his jacket in your hands, biting your lips hard enough a faint metallic taste covered the bile in your mouth.

The familiar feeling was here again. An impression of déjà-vu. Back on the train platform. Watching him leave.

But this time, he wasn’t coming back.

“I’m sorry, Tommy, we can’t…” but he wasn’t listening. He couldn’t listen to whatever excuse you had.

The only thing worse than being rejected by you would probably be hearing you say the words.

I don’t love you, Tommy.

No. It would be the fatal blow. He wasn’t ready for that.

He got up, the alcohol in his blood seemingly gone— deserting, leaving him powerless.

“Tommy, please”

You kept saying his name like it mattered. Like it would change anything.

Shaking his head, he pulled his arm away.

Nothing could mend the raw rip, tearing his heart in half.

It made no sense to him. He was convinced there had been something.

You.

You who stood by him through everything.

You were the only constant.

Your relationship, his only haven— the solid deck on vicious waters.

Never breaking. Never busting.

What would he do if the deck shattered?

Tommy didn’t have the answer to that question. He didn’t want to know.

The cold pit in his stomach as you leaned back was enough to make him leave. He couldn’t bear looking you in the eyes, terrified of what he’d find there.

He had to go.

You followed him through your apartment, calling his name. He wasn’t going anywhere, you wouldn’t allow it. Passing the door meant giving up on your friendship.

It couldn’t end this way.

“Tom, listen to me,” you pleaded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” struggling to find your words, you felt the lump in your throat growing until you were suffocating. “Please, don’t go. You can’t go now, you can’t.”

He grabbed his jacket. The sound of your voice withering almost made him stay. Force a smile on. Tell you it was alright.

No matter how hardened he grew with the years, he never could stand you crying. Ever since the day he met you.  

You had scratched your knee on the dingy pavement and he carried you on his back. He even stole a chocolate bar to console you— the little girl with braids and the sweetest laugh his ears were blessed to hear.

He swore he’d do anything to bring the smile back on your face. Engrave the lightness it carried in his heart.

You would know no woe. No grief.

Not as long as you had him.

You clenched your jaw, desperate tears starting to roll down your cheeks. Deep down, you knew your choice was the best but the sight of him leaving—even worse, hating you, made you sick.

“Tommy,” your voice broke,  “Please, you can’t leave now. Please…,” one last wretched attempt to get him to stay.

Time began to flow so slowly you could swear it stopped.

The clock didn’t tick. The fire in the hearth didn’t crack. The wind didn’t blow.

The world around you held its breath. Waiting. Carefully listening to your beating heart. Pounding against your ribcage. Each thump edging you to the forlorn void of despair.

But if there was one promise Tommy wouldn’t break, it was the one he made to the little girl with her braids and her scratched knee.

His greatest weakness.

You.

Fingers freezing on the doorknob, Tommy listened to your quiet sniffles. He bit his tongue, feeling the guilty grip around his heart.

The moment of hesitation— only a few seconds but it was enough time to put your hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” your forehead rested against his as you whispered, your breath brushing against his lips. “But we can’t do this,” Tommy clenched his jaw, his shoulders slouching in apprehension. “You’re only doing this to feel better and I wish I could help you, I do. But I won’t let you wreck everything just to regret it tomorrow and probably the days after…because you love her.”

A trembling breath left your lips. “You're in love with Grace and you’re mourning and…”

“What?”

Tommy pushed you away, deep creases forming on his forehead. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Tom…”

“What are you talking about? Why would you say that, eh?” confusion in his voice turning into venom, the lack of sleep grinding his nerves.

“Y-You love her. You love Grace, she was your wife and I’m sorry if…”

“Is that what you think?” he spat out as your hands reached for him again.

The fatal blow.

Unexpected. Sharp. Lethal.

“What do you mean?” you stared at him, puzzled at his brusque reaction. “Grace was…”

“Stop saying her fucking name!” he snapped, eyes maddened by his own anguish.

The mere sound of her name was enough to stir the guilt overtaking his body— stabbing the same bleeding wound over and over.  

You stood before him, not knowing how to act.

Tommy rarely lost his cool. He always had the upper hand over his own emotions. You were used to that. You had learnt to deal with his seemingly unshakable façade.

This was different.

“Is that what you think, hm?” he repeated, cutting the stunned silence reigning “You think I was in love with her?”

You had no idea what to reply. You couldn’t grasp the reason behind his outburst. His anger and his hurt were part of a puzzle missing its central piece.

Twisting his words in your mind, you tried to find a clue— anything to help you understand. The accumulation of distressing events was the most obvious answer but it still didn’t explain everything.

“Tom, I don’t understand, I…” you finally admitted, powerless faced with his own torment.

Your confession made him scoff. Tommy’s chest heaved and he clenched his jaw, biting back the words burning his tongue.

The turmoil of emotion began to overwhelm him and he knew that as soon as he opened his mouth, words would flow uncontrollably. The wise decision was to walk away.

Walk away and blame the concerning amount of whiskey in his blood the next day.

Just walk away.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

Of course.

The heavy lump in Tommy’s throat seemed to explode, spreading its vehement poison across his body.

“I was never in love with Grace.” he spun around, facing your defeated expression “I was never in love with her because I’ve always loved you. You.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t say anything. But Tommy didn’t expect you to. “She was the mother of my son and I cared about her but the way I love you… You are the only woman that ever mattered and without you…” his voice broke, eyes watering.

The wave of emotion washed over him with such intensity, air barely reached his lungs.

Drowning.

He felt like he was drowning. Condemned in a tormented sea. Desperately gasping for air yet only allowing more water in.

Tommy considered the idea of forsaking— let the water burn his throat, churn at his insides as long as he could rest. As long as his soul didn’t ache.

But at the very last second, he felt hands pulling him out.

You embraced him, arms tightly knit around his neck, his head resting against your shoulder. Tommy closed his eyes, treasuring the small moment of peace granted to him.

Feeling the strength in his body failing, you guided your bodies to the carpeted floor. His arms tightened around you and you sighed.

His confession had been everything you ever wanted to hear and you desperately wanted to believe him. Craved to whisper those same words back.

But could you trust the words of a man so inebriated he would probably not remember by the morning?

“It was all an illusion”, you reminded yourself.

Tommy, your friend, may have been the man you loved but he was also a widower. Maybe it made no sense to act this way and maybe you should believe him because why else would he say this?

But it was unfair to expect him to “make sense” after what happened to him.

He needed comfort. He needed to stop being the man in charge, the “always standing” one. He needed you to be his friend.

Only that.

Your hands rubbed his back soothingly and you kissed the side of his head, chasing the voice in your head begging you to give in.

For now, you’d have to content yourself with that.

A gentle embrace, mending the scattered pieces of his heart in the dark hall. Tommy couldn’t let go. Your arms provided the solace he longed for—the lifebelt keeping him afloat.

And as you held him, he could only think about the time. The time he lost. The time he could have had.

If only he had said something…

The train platform turned into a sea of teary goodbyes, children escaping their mother’s grasp and boys, men— soldiers, leaving for France.

Clutching Tommy’s army jacket in your hand, you felt his fingers brushing the tears on your cheeks.

“Come on, sweetheart, you know I hate seeing you cry,” he attempted a soft smile.

“Then don’t leave us.”

And he knew he would. He would do anything if it dried your tears and erased the sad pout on your face.

“Please, just one smile. I want to see you smile.”

In case it was the last time.

Tommy searched through his pockets, waving a bright blue box in front of you. “Now you can’t cry anymore,” he muttered with a sly smirk.

You stared at the chocolate bar and couldn’t help the grin making its way through your tears. You swung your arms around his neck, cutting his breath short as you hugged him.

Tommy returned the embrace, closing his eyes.

He could never open them again and stay with you. He wouldn’t have to go anywhere. Just stay. Thread his fingers through your hair and kiss you and love you. He could just stay.

Neither of you wanted to let go. You were pretty sure neither of you could.

As long as you had him. As long as he had you. Nothing could reach you. Nothing could hurt you. If only you held onto each other tighter.

But a loud, piercing whistle resonated through the station, breaking the tender embrace. Tommy took a moment to admire you. Gentle features and radiant smile. That’s how he wanted to remember you. His thumbs reached under your eyes. No tears.

Not today. Not ever.

He wasn’t sure he could keep standing there as you cried and not cry himself. Blinking away, his jaw clenched, he let his fingers trail down your cheek.

His touch was so soft, so light—like feathers tickling your skin— it almost made you forget why he was leaving.

You tried to smile, even as a few rebellious tears tried to escape.

Oh, my darling Y/N...

And he thought he might finally admit it. Confess right here on the noisy train platform. Whisper the words into your ear and make you promise you’ll wait for him.

He was already walking towards death, he might as well free himself of the secret he kept for so long— the same way a condemned man would.

“Tommy?”

He focused his attention on you, the delicately embroidered handkerchief close to your nose. Your eyes reddened with tears, cheeks still damp.

Yes, he could say it.

But what if he didn’t come back?

What if he told you he loved you and died in some french field? What if the only thing you got back from him was a box of his belongings and nothing else?

“I…I just…” You wouldn't handle it. You were already terrified of what would happen, he couldn’t add to that some foolish confession just to feel better. 

He couldn’t risk it. 

“I’ll miss you. Take care, yeah?” he leaned in, kissing your temple.

“Come on, Tom! We’re gonna be late,” Arthur’s deep voice urged him.

“I’ll write to you all the time,” you promised, your hand reaching for his.

Tommy didn’t let go, holding your fingers until he was too far. He stepped onto the train, his eyes always set on yours.

One last glance. One last smile.

And he was gone.

Arthur and John found a compartment where they set their bags, greeting other soldiers. But Tommy wasn’t paying attention.

He had a chance. He could have said it.

No. No, it would have been too selfish to blurt it out and leave. He wanted to tell you he loved you but not under Death’s malignant threat.

He would admit he loved you only if he could live to fulfill that promise. When he could take you dancing. When he could be sure to fall asleep kissing you and wake up just the same.

What was the point of saying it if he never had the chance to show it?

But could he really risk dying without ever telling you?

If he died and you never knew he loved you, he would regret it.

One last whistle resonated through the train station. The train wobbled, slowly moving.

No. No. No.

Tommy left the compartment, running to the corridors.

“Tom, what the fuck are you doing?”

The last thing he wanted was to break your heart if he didn’t come back. But he couldn’t leave without you knowing just how much he loved you.

He just had to make his way back to you.

And he could. He could fight and floor his opponent if it meant coming home to you.

He just had to say it. He had to.

He would never forgive himself if he didn’t.

Pushing away soldiers, ignoring their exclamations and complaints, Tommy finally reached the last car.

It was full but it didn’t matter. He burst in, running towards the window. Quick. Before it’s too late.

I love you.  

Soldiers were staring at him as if he was mad.

Maybe he was.

I love you.

He leaned out, almost tipping over and falling. He didn’t care.

I love you.

Tommy spotted you amongst the crowd.

I love you. I love you. I...

But the train had already left the platform.

It was too far. It was too late.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, defeated.

No one noticed the tears in his eyes. The train rushed under the dim tunnel as regret filled his body with immense darkness.

Too late.

You woke up with a groan, shy rays of sunshine tiptoeing through your quiet apartment. But you couldn’t enjoy the warm weather. Not when every limb, every muscle, every fiber of your body ached.

On the floor. You had fallen asleep on the floor.

You groaned again, stretching your sore legs. As you tried to get up, the night before came back to your mind. 

At least you had an explanation for your aching neck.

You called for Tommy, expecting to find him in the living room but the room was completely empty.

The exhaustion in your body was enough to not question it too much as you made your way to the kitchen. You needed a cup of tea. And maybe some sleep in your bed.

But as you moved towards the table to prepare your breakfast, you noticed a small piece of paper.

Recognizing Tommy’s clear writing, you felt a warm rush through your body and a smile creeping on your tired features.

#ma ptite bombasse 🥰 #tommy <3 #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby angst #thomas shelby fluff #peaky blinders #anna's fics #500 followers celebration #anna's grand ball #peaky blinders

[dindjiarin]

Six Days, Part II - (Sierra Six x F!Reader)

I wrote this because ✨️Six deserves a lil more than a kiss✨️ 😌 I read the first The Gray Man book, and some characterization is based on it, but mostly this is movie-based. Let's pretend Lloyd Hansen survived his ordeal, shall we?

A/N: I had not yet read Ballistic (Book 3 of The Gray Man series) before writing this so the unintended similarity between Ch 36 and my work here was unintentional. I'm gratified to know Court Gentry so well lmfao. 💀 My bad, Mr. Greaney.

Lil Spotify playlist I listened to while feverishly typing. (Wipe Your Eyes is a Sierra Six song, I said what I said.)

Beginning / Ending / Prequel

TAGS: Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Six x F!Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI 18+, sexual content, mention of rape (rape is not threatened nor occurs), drugging, blood/wounds/death.

WORD COUNT: 8.6k (yeah, I'm REALLY sorry)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

IIII

The room is dim when you wake. It can’t be later than six o’clock, but the bed is empty, cold where he should be. The bedsheets rustle as you twist to read the green-lit clock on the bookshelf. Your face ticks in confusion at the numbers spelling out 9:09 a.m.

Must be a cloudy morning. Too bad I can’t see out this fucking frosted window, you grumble internally.

Sitting up, you pull the sheet a little tighter to your naked chest and squint at the bathroom door, bringing it into focus despite your sleep-laden eyes. It seems completely closed, but if Six is in there, he’s unusually quiet. 

You drop the sheet and leave the bed, looking for your clothes on the floor. On Six’s chair, a pile of material catches your eye. Your hand trails across the folded, new clothing; you pick up the top item, the tags still attached. A smile splits your face in two. He’d laid out a pair of plain white underwear, denim shorts, and a green t-shirt. You quickly locate your old bra and underwear and throw away the bottoms. You’re too uncomfortable without the support of a bra, so you put it back on despite its desperate need of a wash. 

Once clothed, you knock on the bathroom door but it swings open with the contact. It’s dark and unoccupied. A sudden wave of fear hits you and you take a step back. 

Where's Six? 

Irrationally, your mind taunts you: Did he leave me? Get what he wanted and cut his losses? A small sound escapes you at the intrusive thought, but you remember the way he had held you all night, the gentle yearning of his touch, the devotion in his sapphire eyes. You silence the unhelpful worries. No way. That’s not him.

Shit, shit, did something happen? Oh, my god, I hope he’s okay. The fears cycle through your mind. He’d never left without telling you before. Not back at the original safe house, not here, not ever. Unease settles in your chest like a virus.

It was evident he had left and come back this morning to bring you new clothing, but where was he now? You move into the bathroom, quickly flipping on the light to try to dispel some of the dread. You drop to your knees and begin feeling around the floor as grime and dirt pile along your fingertips. 

Oh, god, I bet it’s under this disgusting-ass flooring. 

You lean left to grip the rough edge of the linoleum where it lies underneath the sink. Pulling at the aged material, it comes up easily enough, and you’re rewarded by a discolored section of hardwood floor. The linoleum slips from your dirty fingers, and as you reach to grab it again, a loud crash booms behind you. 

The front door bangs open. You spin around, knocking yourself on your ass. Your heart fears it’s an intruder, but your brain expects it to be Six, mad at you for not hearing his knock. 

As the door swings wide, you’re faced with an unfamiliar man, clad in a blue patterned shirt and slacks, standing with a firearm in his right hand. It’s the first thing you see, but it’s not pointed at you. The man looks relaxed - happy, you notice. 

“Hey, doll. Been lookin’ everywhere for ya.” His voice is upbeat yet menacing.

“Whatcha doin’ to that floor?” He marches over to you, roughly grabbing your upper arm.

As his fingers dig into your flesh, you stare at the stumps where his little and ring fingers should be. He hoists you to your feet. You don’t even struggle as your brain tries to play catch-up. 

“Who- the fuck are you?” Your voice trembles despite your efforts to the contrary. Your heart is throbbing, painful aching in your veins; your worst nightmare is coming true.

“You haven’t heard of me?” He sounds surprised. “Well, isn’t that hilarious. Mr. Moral Compass has been keeping secrets from you.” He makes a mockingly sympathetic face.

“Where is he?” Your voice cracks and pain pricks in your eyes, your vision watering. You’re petrified of this man’s answer. 

To your great discomfort, the man laughs. It’s a terrifying laugh: somehow, all of his features seem warmed by his mirth, like he’s energized by your distress.

“That's supposed to be my line, buttercup.”

He makes a condescending gesture, “Someone saw you clomping around this hallway out here. Not very smart, are we? And wherever you are, Six is sure to be trailing like a sad puppy. But I’m not too worried about where he is right now; he’ll follow us, and that saves me quite a bit of effort. Not to mention bullets and bruises.”

It takes a second for his words to find you through the panic, but when they do, you’re nearly lightheaded with relief. You’d thought you managed and processed that first night well. It had given you confidence in your ability to persevere. But standing here, face-to-face with a man who seemed to know things you didn’t, who exuded the dangerous energy of a wild animal, you were frozen in fear. However, if Six was still out there, still okay, you had some hope. You had every hope in the world, in fact.

Six. Six, please. Please walk through that door. All your wits could offer was to repeat his name like a prayer.

“Let’s head on out, shall we? Car’s waiting.”

His grip on your arm tightens painfully, and you still don’t fight him. He steps toward the bed and, with a flourish, places a piece of paper on top of your pillow.

“MapQuest for 007,” he explains without explaining. 

You know you can’t win a physical fight with this much-larger, armed man, but the dam in you breaks as he pulls you toward the exterior hallway. You’re already leaning forward from the way he’s holding you, so you aim at your closest target. Your right fist slams just below the zipper on his slacks and he exhales with a yelp, doubling over. He recovers too quickly, though, and whirls you around, leveraging your throat with his forearm. He squeezes and wins a pained, high-pitched rasp from you.

“Do it again and I’ll leave your dead body for him to find instead of that paper,” he says through gritted teeth. 

You shiver and try to swallow, panicking when you can’t. He loosens his grip enough for you to shuffle along, and when he tries to walk you both through the door a second time, you let him. 

You were right, the sky outside was blanketed by wooly clouds threatening to let loose a deluge. The old city you’d holed up in was quiet for the time of day, and no one saw the well-dressed man toss you into a waiting black SUV. Your cheek smacks the faux-leather gray seat, and you push your arms underneath your body to reorient yourself. 

The air inside the vehicle is artificially cold and smells new. The pleather squeaks as the two armed men who had been waiting outside your room seat themselves on either side of you. You hadn’t seen them until the well-dressed man had dragged you from your shelter out into the sterile-looking hallway. It seemed to you that they were reasonably sure you were alone. There was no way he wouldn't have sent an entire team in if he’d thought the two of you were together, right? This man didn’t dress like it, but maybe he didn’t have the funds for a whole team. Six had mentioned to you once how expensive one mercenary could be, and the going rate for a whole group could feed a small country for a week. 

A thumb and forefinger pinch your nose, and your mouth drops open automatically. Your hands shoot upward to fight off whatever assault is beginning, but then the agent to your left pops something small into the back of your throat. You try to choke it out, but he had thrown it skillfully, and you accidentally swallow. You lurch forward violently as the driver accelerates. 

You gag but nothing comes up. Coughing, you ask, “What'd you give me?”

The kidnapper’s smooth voice answers you from the passenger seat, “The ineloquent call it the ‘date-rape drug’.” 

Utter fear shocks through your body at his blunt words. You’re a chemist, you know exactly what it is he gave you. 

He turns a little to face you, “Sugar, you look nervous. Don’t worry,” his voice is jovial, “This is a date, not a rape.” 

You shrink into your seat as best you can, trying to protect yourself. City blocks quickly turn into dilapidated housing, then farmland since Six’s safe house was close to the outer edge. You don’t know anything about the country you’re in, so memorizing the now-green scenery would be useless. Instead, you decide to evaluate and catalog the men next to you.

The man on your right is tall and tan. With his ironically trustworthy face, you would’ve never given him a second glance if you passed by him on the street. He’s holding what you believe to be a submachine gun, and a pistol butt pokes out of his waistband.

Your friend on the left is his friend’s polar opposite. This man makes you feel like the kidnapper does, and your hands shake just by looking at him out of your peripheral vision. His sharp, pale features keep anger at the forefront. His dark eyes, though rarely on you, twitch with menace. He’s carrying the same weapons as his partner, but you see an added hunting knife hanging from his black cargo pants. Unconsciously, your weight shifts to your right side, trying to put as much distance as you can, though, of course, you know the other man is truly no better.

Heavy exhaustion suddenly falls on you like an anvil. Lethargy places immense pressure on your limbs. Your world goes startlingly black for a second, then you realize you’ve closed your eyelids. You try to lift them, but it’s so difficult. Straining, you see a sliver of blurry light, but your eyes return to darkness. It feels like a weight is pressing on your chest - like Six did last night. Delirious, you half-smile at the recollection. Your head drops to the side with its own weight, and your final conscious thought is that you hope you fell to the right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Feeling more peaceful than he ever had in his life, Six had woken that morning on his side with your head on his right bicep. You were asleep facing him, your right calf sandwiched between his thighs, your hand curled on his chest. If he didn’t include every other time he looked at you, it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Six felt a sense of possessiveness surge through him; he was never going to let anything take you from him. If you wanted him, he would be there.

Six had never told a woman that he loved her. Certainly not romantically. He wasn’t completely confident in how it all worked, but he no longer wondered what it felt like. Six knew by the way he wanted to care for you as you did him. It was evident in the way he found himself pulling your favorite mug from the cabinet each morning before you’d even woken; it was evident in the way his body thrilled as he counted your not-so-sneaky glances at him. Six knew how powerful love was because he felt all other aspects of his life drop in priority to you. He didn't pretend to be good at it, but he couldn't stop himself from trying.

In a matter of excellent timing, you rolled away, tucking your head down and off his arm. He extricated himself from the bed, intending on performing a quick errand. He was incredibly energized; after yesterday’s long-awaited activities and then the full night’s sleep he’d gotten, he felt sure he could do anything. 

After showering, he located an old, plain black tracksuit set that he’d hidden years ago in the bathroom closet. It wasn’t exactly clean after all this time, but it wasn’t the disgusting shirt and pants from the past few days which was all he cared about.

He thought about leaving a note, but it was so dark outside that he knew you’d still be asleep when he returned. And also, he had no pen. Nimbly, he moved to your side of the bed where he carefully tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his feather-light touch never waking you. You sighed into his hand as it curved down your cheek, and he felt himself twitch at the familiarity. He quickly decided that he’d be keeping you in bed today; his high energy would be put to good use.

Six casually moved out onto the streets of the old world city. It was just past eight-thirty. The air was nice: warm and breezy, hinting at the coming storm. It wasn’t a bustling locale, but its population was large enough to provide some cover. Six’s furtive yet discreet searches around the area told him that all was well, so he trekked through the city to a store he knew supplied women’s clothing. He figured your old clothes were no longer suitable - he himself had torn them off in more ways than one - and he had nothing in his cache that would be practical for a woman. He was still cautious, still calculated. If he needed you to run, you couldn’t be tripping around in too-long pants.

The brightly lit store didn’t have much, so he purchased the first items he saw that best fit the summer weather, making no guesses as to your size since it was something he’d memorized for this exact situation. He thanked the shop clerk in his native tongue, then took a shortcut back to the room. 

He returned as the green numbers glowed exactly 9:00 a.m. to find you still sleeping as he had suspected. He laid the pieces on the chair and then moved to the kitchenette. His jaw set as he realized the food was entirely gone; there wasn’t any substantial meal to be eaten, and canned peaches weren’t going to satisfy the both of you. Grumbling, he took another survey to confirm your slumber, then exited once again, locking the door as he left. 

On his ten-minute jaunt to the corner store, Six felt uneasy. Now he believed the electricity in the air had nothing to do with the impending thunderstorm. He felt the breeze rustle through his blonde locks and tried to relax a little. He had a few - well, he couldn’t call them friends - in this general part of Europe, but only one lived in this area. He hoped the man hadn’t seen him; or you, considering the man might know about the situation. 

He’d run out of cash, and his nearest stash was about a four-hour drive away in Latvia, so he was forced to steal a loaf of bread and two chunks of meat. Six left his not-inexpensive watch as payment, but he regretted being forced to this level. He’d never stolen anything in his life (except the odd vehicle, those almost couldn’t be helped) and he hated it. He was paid well for his services; he never needed to steal. Every bit of decency he could afford, he performed. If you hadn’t been waiting, he would’ve contented himself with the peaches for the next few hours, but you were injured, and moving on to Latvia could wait one more night. 

His walk back from the store was circuitous by habit. He took two extra turns and an alleyway before opening the glass-paned door to the building. The room you two had been sharing was the very first on the ground floor, and something was horribly wrong.

Groceries fell to the floor, replaced instantly by his gun. He swept into the room, then the bathroom, already knowing you weren’t there. A sharp intake of breath sounded as he realized the linoleum had been disrupted. 

Thank God, you’d gotten into the safe room. 

He grunted as he pried open the heavy trapdoor, already beginning to tell you everything was okay, when the dusty hole gaped empty beneath him. The breath heaved out of him. He cursed loudly and slammed the door shut with such force that it reverberated throughout the lower floor. He spun around and his eyes snagged on the paper positioned on the pillow you’d occupied only moments earlier. He snatched it up.

 - Do you miss her like I miss my fingers? -

Below the handwritten taunt was an address. Six needed no further information - he sprinted out of the building and up the street.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Groggy and unsteady, your left eye opens a little before your right. Warm light streams from a small round window at the other end of the room. It’s dusty, and motes float about in the beams. Your hands chafe at the handcuffs, but the most uncomfortable aspect is the rickety chair you’re roped into. Your shoulders ache and your neck is pained at the position you’d been unconscious in. 

Fear rises in your throat, bubbling like lava in your chest. But it’s mutating with another emotion you’re not sure of just yet. You rock forward violently and shift the old chair forward a little, trying to move toward the window. The impact of your weight rattles the rafters, and you realize that endeavor is hopeless if you want to remain alone. You try to scoot, using your untied feet to pull you along, but the chair catches on a warped floorboard, and you’re left stuck.

Panting from the claustrophobic panic and the exertion, you begin taking some calming breaths you’d read about once for test anxiety. It helps, but then you hear the creaking of hinges as a trapdoor falls away a few feet from you. The ladder slides down smoothly, and moments later the head of a man appears. His fit, sweater-wearing body follows. He glares at you.

“You got bits of ceiling plaster on my sweater.” 

“What’s going on? What do you want me for?”

You expect him to say something about your job, to demand access to the research, to complete some of it yourself; maybe he wants you to oversee a project of their own. You have no idea and you’re not prepared for what he answers.

“I don’t want you at all, honey. Sorry, you’re not my type. I like women who don’t punch me in the dick.” He says testily. “No, I want your boy, and I want him to be sad. I had no idea you existed ‘til a friend snapped a few pictures of the two of you getting cozy.” 

He unfolds three photos from his back pocket. The first is through the large glass backdoor in your original safe house, the telephoto lens capturing Six’s hand nearly touching your lower back, your head turned to smile at him. A second photo was taken from a distance through a window, and it shows Six sitting on the couch beside you, talking. The man holds up a third photo, this one of the two of you outside, Six’s face glows with that reluctant smile he favors, though it's much larger than usual; facing away from you, he looks downright joyous at something you must’ve said or done. 

The emotion you’d had trouble naming finally identifies itself as you spit, “Fuck you.” 

The man backhands you hard enough to split your lip, but he doesn’t knock you over. Tears spring to your eyes instantly, and you yelp. The moment this man had stepped through your door, you’d done your best to prepare yourself for physical pain. You were still surprised, still shocked by it. 

The man crouches in front of you, his eyes level. Your upper lip curls into a snarl.

“I know Sierra Six. That man is a goody-two-shoes. Although, apparently he’s been lying to his lady love. See, I did do my homework: your employer’s security contract with Six ended a month ago. He’s been bunking with you because I sent him those photos the day before termination. If he stayed with you, I knew it was genuine.” He pauses, then jeers, “He doesn’t allow himself to get attached to people.” The man smiles, perfect teeth flashing behind pink lips as he waves the photographs, “But I found the one he has.”

Unable to fully comprehend what’s happening, you just stare. You’d been through quite a few emotions over the past twelve hours and the tumult in your head was raging. Your admittedly hands-off employers had never told you when the protection detail’s contract ended, they probably had just assumed Six would leave of his own accord. The house had been furnished with anything you would’ve needed so you’d kept on working, and your employers kept getting what they paid you for. As long as the status quo remained, no one would’ve questioned each other.

“So, you’ve got me here in this dry-ass attic because you don’t like Sierra Six?” Your confusion manifests with righteous anger. This man is using you, not for your brain, but to get to someone you care about.

He sharply raises his left hand as an example, “I fucking hate him, actually.

“Don’t your manicures cost less now?” You hiss venomously.

Your chair nearly tips when his hand connects once again with your face. You spit out blood, but you’re weak and it lands pitifully on your shirt. 

Your mouth already open, you ask one last question, ”And when Six comes for me… you’ll kill him?” You are still angry, but your worry over Six causes your voice to break.

“All part of the show, babe. I’m not monologuing to you.” He shrugs, smiling as if he wasn’t just monologuing to you. He stands and jogs forward-facing down the ladder. You hear his rich voice say something about a knife, and your body goes rigid. More pain. Your heart rate skyrockets and traitorous tears fall.

Calm down, get calm, I can’t be calm, just be calm, this is insane, deep breaths, it won’t help, you’ll be fine, your thoughts race uncontrollably. 

Stressed wood and hinges ring out from the ladder as he reappears with a switchblade. He squats and ties your ankles to the chair legs with little effort, despite your kicking. Then he pulls another chair from the far side of the attic to face you. 

“Oh, I’m Lloyd, by the way.” He grins as he slices at your already-injured leg. 

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Though he’d brought a comfortable chair, Lloyd didn’t stay long. He made a few cuts, watched you scream and squirm a little, but then his stomach had growled. He stood, wiped the bloody knife on your denim shorts, and folded the weapon as he left the attic. He made a little quip about letting bed bugs bite, and then the trapdoor squealed as it shut, as he left you in darkness. 

The window across the room is dark blue, now. You beg your mind to relive the previous sunset, but the pain in your wrists and your leg are agonizing. Lloyd had cut a shape into your leg, and you didn’t want to see it. You’d not looked as he worked, and you were unable to do so now. Maybe it’ll be gone by morning, you childishly wish.

Again and again, your mind returns to Six. As much as you may have had a right to be, you didn’t have the capacity to be upset with him. Certainly not right this moment, as all you wanted was to be secure in his arms, and it was unlikely you’d be too pissed later, either. Six was your friend. Sure, he was generally reserved, closed off - but those were his natural defenses, and it was impossible not to feel his sincerity, his regard. Six had stayed on without payment for an entire month. He’d asked for extra men, probably calling in a favor instead of offering a reward. Just because he wanted to protect you. If he’d felt it was best to keep the truth hidden, then the truth was probably best kept hidden. After all, the man was the best tactician around; even you knew he had a near-mythological reputation. 

Simply put, you trusted the man unequivocally. You just wished that he would both hurry and stay away. If this lunatic managed to kill Six by using you as bait, you weren’t sure you could live with the guilt. Six spent so much time walling himself off from everyone, and you’d purposefully broken down those defenses. Now you were both in danger. Six was all you had, all you’d wanted, and now that you had him you were about to lose him. 

You sat there as time slipped by, in the dark, crying, until your body exhausted itself.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

IIIII

A splitting headache wakes you. Your neck is screaming at the position it’s been in for hours, and you feel a little nauseous. The strong light from the round window allows you to clock the time at late afternoon, and you regret waking. Your body straightens when you realize that the sound of the trapdoor opening is what woke you. The sound sharpens and you tense, waiting for more pain. 

As expected, Lloyd’s face beams at you. Immediately, you’re on edge: if Lloyd is happy, you shouldn’t be. He finishes climbing the ladder, and when he does, he motions to someone else to come up.

“Guess who,” he raises his eyebrows conspiratorially. 

“No,” you plead. "No.”

“Mhm. ‘fraid so.” He couldn’t possibly smile wider.

A blonde head that you’d recognize anywhere materializes. He’s shoved by someone else you hate to see: the pale man on your left. The pale man looks terrible. His face is swollen and bloody. Since the ladder rises away from you, you don’t see the prisoner’s face until the pale man roughly turns him around, but you knew it would be Six. He’s slammed into his own rickety chair. His beard is sticky with blood, and a cut near his right eye oozes more blood. His black tracksuit is filthy and torn, and his hands are bound in front of him with zip ties. The instant he faces you, he holds your tearful gaze, and he winks. Your eyebrows constrict briefly in confusion, but you return to utter despair quickly. Lloyd was never going to let you go if he captured Six, and you’re pretty sure he never even offered that lie up to you. Now you were both going to watch each other die. Your chest heaves in sorrow.

“I’m sorry,” your voice is a hoarse whisper, but Six frowns and shakes his head. His attention is forced away from you, however, when Lloyd steps in front of him.

“Wow, Lloyd, you should’ve squeezed the CIA for a better patch job. You look like shit.”

Lloyd laughs, “Aw, don’t make me kill her already. I was just getting excited.”

“Did you do that to her face?” Six asks conversationally. 

“It wasn’t the only thing I did,” Lloyd answers suggestively. And though you can’t see his face, he grins at Six who barely keeps a leash on himself. He files that comment away for later fuel. 

Lloyd begins to speak, cajoling as Six flexes his jaw, his expressive eyes never leaving the threat. “The CIA didn’t ‘patch’ me up. They’ve pinned that whole … situation… on me. Rather unfairly, wouldn’t you say?” He doesn’t give Six time to answer before he continues, “I have other powerful friends who aren’t hunting me for war crimes. But they don’t matter. They support my little personal revenge mission, although they’re not funding it.” He holds up his hands, “Don’t be offended I didn’t send a whole squad after you, Six. I’m pretty depleted after all your shenanigans. But anyway!” He claps his hands, “Don’t you wanna know how I knew?” He sounds thrilled.

“A little birdy told you?”

“Your friend Denver. Now isn’t that just the worst? He sold you out. ‘Six has found himself a girl.’ His plan was to live that night, but hey, can’t win ‘em all, right?”

Lloyd moves to grab his chair, and you’re able to see Six’s reaction. His face doesn’t change, but you know those eyes. He’s not completely shocked, he can’t afford to be in his line of work, but you can see the betrayal, the sadness pooling there. 

Since he has line of sight on you, again, he takes advantage and the corner of his mouth quirks up quickly. The smile is gone before you’re even sure it existed - but that’s the second time he’s signaled you. Trying to keep me from panicking, as always, you reason. You give him an answering smile, but it’s sad, and he grunts in frustration.

Lloyd has his chair in hand, and he looks animatedly between the two of you - back and forth, back and forth, as if trying to choose. The pale man, still standing next to Six, laughs. Your disgust evident on your face, Lloyd makes his choice and sits directly in front of you. 

“Did you miss me, honey?” He purrs. You know from his tone that everything this man is about to do has one purpose: to twist a dagger into Six’s soul. 

“Didn’t really get a chance, asshole,” you pour every bit of rage and hatred you can into your voice. This man might break your body, but you’re pretty sure this level of anger will protect your mind. 

“Let me see that six.” He orders, which stops you right in your tracks.

“What?” You ask, perplexed.

“The six! The six I gave you.” His bottom lip pouts, “You didn’t even see what I gave you?” And he points at your thigh. 

Amidst the blood, you finally see the pattern he had carved into your leg. He hadn’t cut as deeply as your other wound, just deep enough to ensure scarring. 

“You said something about wanting a six, right?” He plays dumb. “If that one’s not big enough, here, I’ll do another.” He lifts the knife quickly and you start at the sudden violence. 

Behind him, you hear Six grunt, then an unfamiliar, more pained-sounding grunt. Lloyd doesn’t hesitate before he jumps behind your chair and sticks the knife against your neck. As he does so, you see the body of the pale man drop to the floor, his submachine gun in Six’s freed hands. Your chin tilts up as high as you can to avoid the blade.

“You brought a knife to a gunfight, Lloyd.” 

“Quite the party foul of me, huh?” Lloyd rejoins. “Oh, well. That’s where your bitch comes in handy.” 

Six doesn’t react. Lloyd's using you as a shield, but he is much larger than you. One good shot would knock him back enough that Six was confident he could reach you before Lloyd recovered. Six starts to squeeze the trigger when the knife leaves Lloyd’s hand, aimed directly at his heart.

Six bats away the shining switchblade with the gun, which sends him a little off balance. Lloyd uses his chance to rush Six. Like the football star he had been, he tackles Six to the floor. Six groans in pain as the wind is knocked from him, and a scream tears from you. At the last second, you remember that the other man in the car, the one on your right, was probably somewhere below. Surely he had heard the thumping, right? Why wasn’t he coming?

Six quickly gets the upper hand, kicking out from underneath the other man, smashing the gun into Lloyd’s face twice as he did so. Six is loath to shoot the man outright because he really wants to beat the shit out of him first. Lloyd gets to his feet at the same time Six does.

Frantically, you knock the chair over, and try to wiggle sideways towards the knife Six had hit. It was several feet away, very close to what now looked like a standoff. Six hears what you’re doing, and circles a little more to his right, putting himself between you and Lloyd. He thrusts the butt of the gun at Lloyd’s gut, but Lloyd grabs hold of it. Six immediately ejects the magazine faster than he’d ever made the move before. He releases his hold on the weapon, knowing it won’t make a difference. Lloyd gives him an eyebrow raise before tossing the gun down the ladder.

Your chair scrapes with every inch, but your desperation gets the knife into your right hand right as you hear the gun fall. You saw at the ropes around your body, then once free of that, you cut the flimsy material around your ankles. Unfortunately, you are still handcuffed to the chair’s armrest. Keeping the knife in hand, you lift the old chair and slam it against the floor, once, twice. Thinking better of that, you sit down and jam both heels on the underside of the armrest, hoping to force the slim piece from its spindles. That worked. Unfortunately, you are still handcuffed.

Six waits for Lloyd to swing first, and when he does, Six puts every play he’s ever learned into action. He swings haymaker after uppercut at Lloyd, most of them connecting viciously. Lloyd gets in several licks, but each time Six shakes it off with a growl. Hoping to shorten this dance, you hold up the knife, hoping it’s Six and not Lloyd who sees what you have to offer. They both notice.

As Lloyd starts to run at you, Six leaps forward, grabbing him around the throat by his forearm. He uses the momentum to slam Lloyd down to his knees. Lloyd twists and claws at him, but Six is stronger. To Lloyd’s endless consternation, Six has always been stronger. You gawk on in horror. You’d seen Six kill a man before, but this was different. This was personal, angry, justified. Six is silent as his arms strain, pressing every bit of strength he has into Lloyd’s windpipe. Lloyd is gagging, gurgling. It was terrible. 

“Go!” Six commands through gritted teeth, and though he wasn’t looking at you, you obey. You didn’t want to see this. 

You flee down the ladder, knife still in hand. Subconsciously, you take in your surroundings: a vacant, crumbling mansion. The white hallway was cracked, and moldy. No furniture could be seen. You could still hear Lloyd’s death throes above you, so you stumble along the hallway, desperate to end the nightmare.

Your right leg, so damaged, gives out and you hit the floor. You see stair railings a few feet away, but you can also see the attic entrance from where you fell, and you weren’t going anywhere without Six. So you drag yourself up against the wall and try to slow your labored breathing as you wait.

A few minutes later, a man dressed in black climbs down. Your heart pounds at the sight of the blonde hair. You stand, wobbling, and drop the knife. As he reaches you, he wraps an arm around you. His hand presses your head to his chest. 

“Let me see your hands.” 

You hold up your cuffs. He unlocks them with a small key you can only assume he got from one of the bodies upstairs. He nudges you forward, and you start down the hallway, then down the stairs. When you get to the bottom of the wooden steps, you see why the other man never came running. He lay bloody on the floor of the foyer. Six had killed him first. 

“Didn’t know where you were in this big old house, so I made my entrance known. Lloyd would take me wherever you were. Amateur.” 

Stepping around the body and out the front door, you hysterically giggle at the stolen car Six had parked normally. “You literally walked in the front door?” 

“Yeah.” 

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

IIIIII

Lloyd had taken you over the Latvian border by several hours, so while you were in the right country, you were still a couple of hours away from Six’s cache. As he drives, you curl up on the back seat, trying to relieve your sore muscles and your stinging leg.

It’s nearly midnight by the time Six pulls to the curb a block from his newest safe house. The streets were bustling with people enjoying their evening, and it wasn’t difficult to blend in. In the darkness, no one could make out your bloody leg, his bloody face. 

Six breaks the padlock off the abandoned-looking building’s side entrance, then steps inside, ensuring it was uninhabited. There’d been no actual threats to your life besides Lloyd Hansen, your company hiring Six as a precaution over rumors, but Six was never going to take a chance again when it came to you.

He ushers you through the door, then tucks you into his side as he opens another door. It’s pitch black, and you cling to his jacket. You hear the door shut behind you, then you hear the sound of his hand sliding along the wall trying to find the light switch.

He succeeds and the room is illuminated in warm, artificial light. It’s another ground-floor apartment, and it’s similar to the previous minus Six’s favorite wingback chair. He takes your hand and guides you into the bathroom where you see the biggest difference yet. The bathroom is clean, spacious, and it has both a bathtub and a shower.

“Capital cities have the best safe houses. More people to maintain them,” he replies to the question in your mind. “Strip.” 

Your head jerks up to look at him. He unzips his track jacket but leaves his pants. You pull the hem of your shirt over your head and drop the bloodstained fabric to the floor. Six crouches in front of you and unbuttons your shorts.

“I’m a professional,” he whispers, trying to lighten your wordless mood as he covers your new knife wound with his hand and pulls your shorts down. 

He takes your hand to balance you as you step out of the bottoms. As he touches you, he looks for a sign of disgust, fear, something that will break his heart but make sense after what you’d been through. 

He grabs a washcloth from the counter and wets it. He crouches in front of you again and begins softly cleaning the blood from your thigh, leaving a wide gap around the actual wound. 

You’re a little unsteady after the lack of nutrition and the stress your body has undergone the past day, but you steel yourself for a moment: you focus on not freaking out, not crying just yet in order to take stock. You watched him kill someone. How do I feel about that?

In your heart, you know that it doesn’t change anything you feel about him. Six killed bad men - always had, always would - and you’d known that when you met him. Your torso shakes, nearly hyperventilating. No, the worst is that you could’ve died, you could’ve watched him die. You collapse onto his shoulders, your arms around his neck.

“I’m sorry.” He says, the timbre of his voice letting you know that he means it for all that has occurred. For what Lloyd did to you physically and probably emotionally. For not telling you the truth, but mostly for putting you in the situation in the first place.

Too emotionally distraught to check the words thoroughly, you try to relieve his guilt: “’s not your fault someone loves you, Six.” 

Still not noticing your own words, you bury your face in his shoulder, and your tears fall freely. The noise he makes under his breath sounds affectionately amazed.

He stands, picking you up, and your legs wrap around him automatically. Your cuts are nearer the outside of your leg, but it still sends a jolt of pain down your limb when you use it to latch onto him. He sets your bottom on the countertop. One hand rubs your back while the other nestles into your hair. 

He knows you’re in shock, and he knows you didn’t mean to tell him you loved him like that. It’s good to hear, and he can’t help the sunrise in his heart, but his primary concern is consoling you. Or distracting you, if possible. Early in his career, he had learned that the best way to move forward was to stop overthinking. Distractions worked well for that.

“Shower or bath?” He asks.

He doesn’t have an ulterior motive, and you’re more than welcome to answer with neither. But in his mind, if it comes to it, he could try to make you forget today for a little while. You sniffle as you pick your head up off his shoulder to see his face.

He’s looking at you like you just saved him, and it’s somehow exactly what you needed.

“Shower.” 

You’d love nothing more than to be warm, bloodstain-free, and staring at Six naked. Without another word, he drops his pants and unclasps your bra. You push your underwear off. You latch around him again, and he carries you into the shower. You drop your legs and stand while he adjusts the temperature. The shower’s wide enough that you don’t feel the water at all as it warms up. 

As the water begins to steam, Six looks over at you and holds his hand out, palm up. A smile touches your lips and he answers with his own as he pulls you to him underneath the showerhead. His hair soaks instantly. He rotates so your hair can rinse free of all the shit it had gone through in the last week.

Six takes a clean, soapy washcloth and stoops to finish cleaning your leg. He tries to ignore the shape that those cuts are in, but it’s still torturing him. He’d tried to forget it the moment after the words had left Lloyd’s mouth, but now he was face-to-face with the physical consequences of his feelings for you. He straightens up and lets the water get the rest of the blood. 

You watch as his expression twists, and he won’t meet your eyes. 

“They’re shallow. They’ll heal.”

“Yeah, right into my fucking name.” He begins washing himself as a means to avoid your face.

“It’s not your name." You cup your hand to his cheek. "Hey, ‘Six’ is not your name. Those marks will heal, and even if I’m still able to see the number, it doesn’t bother me.” Your voice rises with each word. You’re trying to tell him that it’ll be an incidental scar, and even if it mattered, it’s the pseudonym of the man who rescued you.

His stormy eyes meet yours finally, skepticism clouding them. “It doesn’t matter to you that you were tortured and permanently scarred," his voice acerbic, "because of me?”

“It does matter, but it wasn’t because of you, Six. It was because that guy was insane. He was unstable. He hated you and I was useful.” You're pleading with him to hear you. Your hand slides up from his cheek into his drenched hair. 

You decide to gamble a joke, “Always wanted a man’s name tattooed on me, anyway.” 

Your eyes shine up at him fervently, hoping the joke corroborates your apathy over the wound. Because that really didn’t matter to you. The physical scars were nothing - they would heal without issue. If anything, you worried about being separated from Six. How would you ever feel safe without him again? 

Your gamble works. He snorts and leans his forehead to yours. Stray water droplets collect in his facial hair. 

“But you’re right, that’s not my name,” he murmurs, then carefully presses his lips to yours. He’s gentle, but pain issues forth from your split skin, anyway. You flinch slightly, and Six murmurs, "Sorry."

Angry at the reminder, you decide you’re not letting Lloyd take any more seconds of your life, so you deepen the kiss. Your lips part to allow him in, and at the first touch of his tongue, a spark of tension flares.

He hums deep in his chest at your enthusiasm, your reassurance. Six’s right hand curves around the back of your upper thigh, underneath your ass, and he half-lifts/half-pushes you into the icy wall of the shower. You hiss in surprise, but his warm body follows with a grunt a split-second later, and you’re no longer thinking of anything but him. 

Your hand drops to stroke his velvet length against your thigh, and Six’s groaning mouth leaves yours to trail along your jaw and drops to the hollow he knows you love. His hands caress your curves, one hand traveling to grasp your breast as the other hand slides between your legs.

You gasp as the friction of his rough palm, then his fingers, send a jolt right to that coil in your stomach. He squeezes your breast gently, and his thumb rolls over your nipple as Six drops to his knees. 

“You don’t have to -” you start, but change your mind instantly as you appreciate Six below you: his hair drips into his profoundly blue eyes; water runs down his well-defined body, and his thighs flex as he shifts closer to you and sits back on his heels. His large hands wrap around your hips. You feel your breath hitch as he angles forward and his breath touches your tender skin a moment before his heated mouth. His tongue flattens against you before flicking at the perfect pace; he alternates between the two patterns. The heat floods through you in a deluge - your eyes slam shut, your head rolls back, and when your stomach constricts, your legs go weak.

He makes a pleased guttural sound that vibrates into your skin, and he plants one firm arm upward along the inside of your hip, his hand on your ribs, to keep you upright. His other hand on your hip welds you firmly to him. Your cries of pleasure echo in the space, and he feels himself growing painfully hard. 

Your body having been stretched to its limits in so many ways means the euphoria you feel now has you coming easily. Six feels the tension in you splinter, feels the shuddering in your legs. The pride it gives him is unmatched as he holds you still. You moan into the steamy air, and he knows could do this forever.

He continues at the same pace, but in a moment of lucidity, you miss him against you. You pull at his shoulder, and he obliges, standing. His right hand grasps the underside of your knee, palm on the outside of your leg, and he fits himself right against you. You can feel him twitch with expectation. An aftershock of your first orgasm ripples through you, and has you clenching around nothing. You shiver, already anticipating how good he will feel. 

“Please, Si-” you beg him, unnecessarily.

He makes a sudden decision, cutting you off, “It’s Court.”

Your eyes fly up to his. But before you have a chance to speak, he steadily shifts up into you. His quiet groan is punctuated by your gasps. His eyes close involuntarily at your tight warmth. Your nails dig into his biceps where you’d braced yourself. The stretch hurts a little this time, but you're too satisfied with the closeness to care. Relishing the unique intimacy of being inside you, he skims one hand down your side before he drags himself unhurriedly out, and thrusts back in. 

He begins to slowly increase his rhythm, and with each incredible entrance, you both let the sounds spill out from your mouths uninhibited. Before long he is driving into you so unrelentingly that all you can do is hang onto him. He never neglects your lips for a second, his deep, messy kiss the only thing keeping you sane. You feel white-hot; it’s nearly painful, but it’s so good.

Tears leak down your face. His left hand cups your cheek, thumb swiping away the salty liquid. He can see you’re about to snap once again by the way your face pinches, then begins to unwind underneath his hand. He drops his hand to work you over further. He never knew life could be so sweet. Reserved, isolated his entire adult life, he knows that he’s never going to be happy if he’s not coming home to this. 

“Don’t say Six,” he begs. It’s never mattered to him before. He was the same person no matter what anyone referred to him as. But he wanted you to know, to have the purest version of himself. The version no one else had.

He looks down into your eyes as he asks, and when the understanding hits you, it’s the final nail in your coffin. A sob echoes in the small room as your walls constrict around him, fluttering. He revels in the image of you falling apart against him.

He kisses you again, then lets his lips hang open over yours as you both breathe heavily from the wicked roll of his hips. He’s blurry through your tears, and you blink a little to better understand what you just saw flashing in his eyes. What you’d seen there two days earlier, too. He loves you, your mind supplies unasked.

Court’s rhythm changes to deep, passionate thrusts as he tries to bury himself in you. His desperate grunts send aftershocks throughout your thighs. He’d never stop if his body would allow it. He gradually slows his movements, still working you through your own high. He finishes with a low, animalistic noise and closes the small gap between your mouths. Neither of you move, panting.

You look up at him through your lashes, your eyes full of tears at the emotion between you two. He kisses you, hard - full of everything he'd wanted to say for months. After several moments, he lets go of your leg, and removes himself from you.

Unwilling to stop touching you, though, he takes you by the hand as he exits the shower. You twist the knob to shut it off as you walk by. 

He wraps an old, gray towel around his waist, and hands one to you. You squish your hair, then wrap it around your chest. He’s quiet, uncomfortable for some reason, so you take his hand again, and back him up against the counter. He barks a reluctant, low laugh at you pretending to be able to keep him pinned. He rests his hands on your waist.

“Why are you sad?” You ask bluntly.

“I’m not the one who was just crying,” he deflects with a quip. 

You raise your eyebrows and frown at him. 

Remembering that he wanted you to know him, he cautiously answers in a halting undertone, “I would like a calm life.” He stops, thinking. “Maybe with you...”

It's almost a question, and he doesn’t say what he means exactly, but you understand. You're his chance at a normal life. A happy life.

“Maybe not a calm life, no, but you could have me.” You phrase it as a potential, though it’s not one. He’s had you wrapped around his finger for months. You'd do anything if your reward was this man.

His face doesn’t change, so you try again, “You already have me; so, it’d be nice if you’d accept it.” 

“Oh, I don’t even get a choice, now?” He smirks faintly, his thumbs rubbing along your hips through the thin towel.

“I don’t think I’ll ever feel happy without you,” you confess your earlier thought. Your hand traces over the tattoo on his chest. “I know I wouldn't feel safe."

He sighs heavily. “I can’t say nothing will ever happen,” he says honestly, “but I can promise I'll be there." He pauses, trying to figure out how to express himself. "If you want me, then-"

“I always want you, Court.”

You cut him off, speaking his name for the first time. When when he smiles, it finally touches his eyes. His grip tightens on your waist. He's contemplative for a moment as his look turns mischievous.

He lowers his voice, “About that book you tried to kill me with: I think I remember a page or two -” he breaks off as he bends faster than you’re capable of reacting to, and throws you expertly over his shoulder, smiling at your laughing shriek.

#sierra six #the gray man #the gray man fanfic #court gentry #courtland gentry #my fics #smut #fluff #ryan gosling #lloyd hansen #chris evans #sierra six x reader #court gentry x reader #the gray man fanfiction #personal #I have a deformed finger and my dad makes that manicure joke all the time fyi #the gray man 2022 #sierra six x you

[knyontop]

Hiii!! I really love your works they’re really awesome and they bring me comfort! I wanted to ask if it was ok to do some Platonic Yandere Creepypasta x Teen Reader who’s like extremely traumatized and shy and untrusting but in secret they’re kind and caring and just wants love and to be babied. :33

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OFC MLLLL

Platonic!Yandere!Creepypastas x teen!reader

Ft: Jeff the killer, Slenderman, Ben drowned, and our amazing, beautiful, handsome, reader

Tw: Blood, gore, forced affection, abuse, murder, cussing, manipulation, possessiveness, jeff is a whole warning himself😭😭

Jeff:

・when he first meet you, your un-trusting nature made him amused, he likes when people are nervous and timid about him.

・he would poke fun at you and spook you, he loved seeing people cower below him. It feed his huge ego.

・tho your shy nature made him feel protective over you.

・he didn’t know why, he just felt as if he had no NEEDED to shield you from the worlds wrath.

・He would follow you around and you didn’t know why, the more he was around you tho the more you opened up to him.

・When Jeff actually started to get to know you he started getting more and more possessive. Like an overbearing

Older brother.

・Jeff would start to isolate you and keep you away from the others, the only person he would really let you see besides him is slender and Ben, and a little bit of Lui.

・He would try to make you hate the people he hated. (Cough cough, Jane.)

・He wanted you to rely on him and ONLY HIM. HE IS ALL YOU WILL NEED WHY DONT YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND THAT??

・You needed him, you were to naïve and shy, and weak. You needed someone to protect you and help you, and that someone is him.

・Its okay that you didn’t understand that yet, dont worry, Big brother Jeff will take care of it!

“Dont worry kid, your big brother jeff will handle it.”

・He will hug you while having a knife at your back telling you to not leave him, he also threatens you to keep your little mouth shut. Cant have Slender knowing can we

・Jeff will manipulate you to think all of this is normal and this is what siblings do. (Its not)

・He likes to bring you with him on missions and make you watch him kill his victims brutally as a punishment, he says its just discipline and your being overdramatic about it. Plus you also kill people dont you?

・When you call him a monster he will then turn it around on you because you do the same thing he does, your both the same. Your both monsters.

・Jeff has noticed that you just melt into his arms even if you dont like it or not and he will mock you and tease you for it.

“Look at you, such a dumb little thing. You just fall into my arms. Your so naïve, so its a good thing you have me!”

・Just dont be a brat and obey him! Its that simple, right?

“Your such a brat, you should be grateful that I even bother hanging out with you.”

・He will tell Ben to make sure you keep your mouth shut and make sure your being a good little kid, Ben doesn’t complain because Jeffs his best friend and your just another pitiful human being that happened to step into the Slender mansion.

“Look kid, just listen to jeff. Theres nothing you can really do now is there?”

・Ben does feel bad, but hes a very sadistic being.

・If you piss of Jeff enough he will kill someone in your old life you cared deeply about, he will make you watch the blood splatter everywhere, he will make you watch him stab there chest repeatedly, he will make you watch the guts fly everywhere.

・The funny thing is Jeff knows that this is wrong but he just doesn’t give a fuck.

・It all goes to far when he breaks you and you have a full on mental breakdown, thats when he actually feels genuinely bad. <3

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I had fun writing this🎀

#jeff the killer #jeff the killer x reader #ben drowned #ben drowned x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #platonic yandere #creepypasta #platonic creepypasta #uh.. #jeffery woods #jeffery woods x reader #help

[once-upon-an-imagine]

Sorry to hear you've been having a bad day, hopefully you get some catharsis from writing angst cuz I don't got any hurt/comfort ideas but I do have a straight up angst if you feel you want to write it

"You don't belong anywhere near me" said by character to reader, I was thinking mean sirius x muggle born reader but you can do whatever

thank you so much, love 😊 it was just one of those days where nothing seemed to go right but, today was better! I love the angst! I couldn't bring myself to make Sirius fully mean (sorry, I'm a Sirius simp) but it's a very angsty situation, so I hope you like it Warnings: Sirius is an asshole, drunk, and high and this is super angsty

"So, that's it then?" you asked, trying your best to not let your voice shake. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction. There was no way you'll let him know how much he broke you.

"I don't know what to tell you, dove" he laughed. He had the audacity to laugh at you. "It was fun while it lasted" he shrugged.

"You're lying" you said in barely a whisper.

"I am?" he chuckled.

You knew he was. For the past weeks, Sirius had been pulling away from you. It started with small things, he made up excuses that he didn't have time to be with you. It escalated when you noticed and heard everywhere that he started partying again. Heavily partying. And not with his friends. And now, here you found him at yet another party in Gryffindor and you were now in his dorm arguing because you found somebody else's bra on his bed, and he didn't even try to hide it. You knew he was trying to make it look like he cheated on you. But you knew he wouldn't do that. You knew something was wrong and he was hiding it from you. And from his friends.

"Sirius, what is going on?" you asked, trying to walk closer to him again but he took a step back.

"Nothing's going on, I don't want to be with you anymore! Can't you get that through your fucking stupid head?" he snapped, glaring at you.

This wasn't him. This wasn't your Sirius. He seemed haunted and broken and you wanted your boyfriend back. But he didn't seem to want to be back.

"Hey" you heard Remus coming in with James and Peter behind him. "Is everything okay?"

"We can hear you guys from downstairs" James told you.

"What's going on?" Peter asked, confused.

"Why don't you ask your stupid friend?" you said, feeling your eyes tear up a little.

"Nothing's going on. She's just making a stupid drama out of it, like usual" he said. "We're done" he said, starting to walk out of his dorm but his friends stood there.

"Done? What do you mean done?" James asked, confused.

"Oh, for fucks sake! Can you just leave me the fuck alone and stay out of my fucking business?" Sirius yelled at them.

"Sirius, we're just worried about you and we want to understand-"

"There is nothing else to understand!" he yelled at you. He had never yelled at you. "I don't want to be with you anymore, okay? We're done! I fucked someone else, for fucks sake! I don't-!" he stopped and for a second, you saw the old Sirius back but it was gone just as quickly. "I don't love you anymore!" he said, feeling his entire heart shatter at the look on your face. It was done. He had broken you and now you will stay away from him. And you will be safe.

"You don't mean that" you whispered, trying one last time, but he had made up his mind. He composed himself and laughed one more time.

"You don't belong anywhere near me, you mud-"

"Hey!" James was about to throw himself at Sirius but you were quicker by slapping him and you pushed him away.

"You are a fucking coward!" you said as tears streamed down your face and you left the dorm. James and Peter glared at their friend before they followed you but Remus stayed behind.

"Is this really how you wanted things to end? Did you really have to break her like that?" he snapped.

Sirius looked at his best friend before choking down the drink in his hand.

"Yes" was the only thing he said before he left the dorm and went back to the party.

#marauders #marauders imagine #sirius black #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #sirius black dialogue

[joekeeryswife]

HI LOVE ❤️❤️

Absolutely love your fics could I please have a Joseph x reader and have josephas a dad fic maybe like they have a family day out and its just like rlly fluffy and it could be like the daughter falls over and Joseph comforts her and it’s just rlly sweet

Thank you so much ❤️❤️❤️

Falls - J.Q

hi sweetheart, this got lost in my inbox but here it is so sorry it’s late! i hope this was okay, enjoy <3 

you and Joseph had a one year old daughter called Aurora. she was the best thing that ever came into your life. she was the perfect mixture of you and Joseph and you got compliments everywhere you went from how beautiful your little family was. it was a Thursday morning and you were all on your way to the London zoo. the zoo was definitely one of Aurora's favourite places.

since Aurora was only one and was starting to walk, you decided against bringing a buggy as it wouldn't be used and you'd have to lug it around for the whole day. you were sat in the car, fingers laced with Joseph's as he drove, listening to Aurora babble in her own language to you guys. "did that really happen princess? wow that's not good" Joseph said as he took a quick glance at her through the rear-view mirror.

"mama" she said mid babbles before carrying on babbling. "wow mama, you didn't put on her favourite outfit because it's too cold? how dare you" Joseph gasped making Aurora giggle loudly. a wide smile spread across your face as you heard that. her giggles were one of the cutest things you'd ever heard and you were grateful you got to hear them everyday.

you arrived at the zoo and Joseph found a car parking space close to the zoo entrance. even though Aurora was 1, she loved animals. whenever she can't sleep, you put on 'Our Planet' and she will sit there and fall asleep to watching the animals and David Attenborough's voice. her favourite animals were definitely seals, her face would light up every time she saw them on the screen. she would called them 'sees' and would clap her hands in excitement.

you got out of the car and walked around to the side where Joseph and Aurora was and saw him putting her on the floor and he grabbed her hand, allowing her to waddle along with Joseph as he walked to the entrance. you followed the and walked to the other side of Aurora and held her other hand.

"dada dada" Aurora said in a sing-song tone. the thing was, she wasn't even calling Joseph. she would just sometimes say that like she's babbling. you guys walked into the zoo and headed straight for the aquarium to let Aurora see the Seals. she could watch them move through the water for hours and just watching her get excited over them filled your heart with so much joy.

she walked silently as she listened to you and Joseph talk about the next few days which would be filled with interviews for him. "i have three tomorrow, two Saturday with Jamie and then four on Sunday then next week i have to fly to America for this Stranger Things walk through experience. i haven't been told too much about it yet but it should be fine" he said as you followed the path to the aquarium.

"do you know when you'll be back?" you asked, looking over at him. he sighed and spoke up "no. but i shouldn't be away for long. even if i am maybe you guys could fly out to see me" he said, body filled with hope even though he knew the answer. it would be a no. you didn't want to travel for nine hours with a one year old and have her whole routine change. America was 7 hours behind and it would just get her confused.

"you know i'd love to but i can't risk it for Rory" you said, guilt filling your body. you wanted to be with him when he did these things, when he travelled around, but being on a plane by yourself with just Aurora scared you. "i know. it was worth the ask though right?" he questioned, a small smile on his face as he turned to look at you and saw you with a similar smile as you nodded your head.

you arrived at the aquarium and walked to the seals section and that's when Aurora's whole demeanour change. she was quiet for most of the walk there but now she'd seen the small seal swim past the tank, she squealed and smiled brightly. "sees mama" she screamed, excitement laced in her tone as she let her tiny hands fall onto the see through tank, eyes following each seal as it swam past. "that's right sweetheart, they are seals" Joseph said as he bent down to be level with her.

there were a few other people around the tank, their own children being excited by the animals. Aurora stood there, fascination spread across her face as she watched the animals swim around. you let your hand run through one of the two small pigtails on top of her head. "mama" she said, looking at you as her finger pointed to the tank making your smile grow.

"i know sweetheart, the seals are there" you said, bending down to her level. "do you wanna go see some other animals love? we can come back later" Joseph said to Aurora who looked up at him doe eyed. she lifted her arms up so Joseph could pick her up which he did, making you stand up properly. "where'd you wanna go love? maybe we should take her to see the lions" Joseph asked you as you both walked out of the aquarium section.

"yeah let's go there, i think she'll like them" you replied, taking ahold of his hand and stroking the back with your thumb. you guys walked to the lions and tigers section listening to Aurora babble as you walked along. she all of a sudden squealed once she saw the huge lions in their field, obviously excited to see them. this made Joseph jump, she’d only been babbling along quietly and then a massive squeal pulled him out of his thoughts.

“jesus princess, you made me jump” he said as he kissed her cheek, making her laugh loudly. Joseph put her down in front of a glass screen which separated the animals from you and made sure she could see them. “you see them sweetheart?” he asked as she smacked her hands on the glass to hold herself up, accidentally smacking it too hard. “no love, don’t smack it please, be gentle” you said, wanting her to know that smacking things is wrong. she looked up at you then back at the glass where the lions were.

“do you remember what sound a lion makes sweetheart?” Joseph said, knowing she would definitely imitate the lions roar. “roar” she said in a high pitched voice, doing an impressive impression of a lion. Joseph laughed and kissed her cheek as you clapped your hands. “that’s right, the roar” he said, smile growing wider. she could do a lion impression from about 8 months old and it was one of the cutest things you’d ever heard.

once looking at the lions for a while, Joseph wanted to go see the elephants, another one of Aurora’s favourite animals. he stood up and started walking, allowing Aurora to walk on her own beside him. he thought it would be a good idea to not hold her hand so she could get used to walking on her own, that was a bad idea. the ground which surrounded the lions section was pebbly and rough, not a flat surface where it would have been easier to walk on.

she started waddling quite quickly down the path, which was luckily pretty empty, and as she put down her right foot when she was a bit away away from you guys, not to far that you couldn’t see her but quite a bit in front of you, her foot landed on a big rock, making her ankle twist and she fell straight onto her bum, hands getting a scraped a bit from the variety of stones which covered the floor.

one second she was quiet and the next she was sobbing loudly, obviously she’d hurt herself. now when you wee growing up your mother had just dusted off your clothes and picked you back up, making you not think of the pain which made you only cry if you’d really hurt yourself so you did the same with Aurora. she’d never cry if she fell over so this was new for both you and Joseph.

“oh shit” Joseph said, walking quickly to Aurora who was sobbing her little heart out. Joseph picked her up and pulled her into a hug as she wrapped her small arms around his shoulders as she sobbed into his neck. “oh sweetheart, it’s alright” he said, trying to calm her down. you walked in front of Joseph and rubbed up and down her back, soothing her as best you could as Joseph kissed her forehead. “you had a little fall didn’t you” he said, feeling her nod against him.

he felt guilty. it was his idea to let her walk on her own and here she was now hurt because of it. “let me see sweetheart” he said, pulling her gently out of his neck to check her palms, there were quite a few scrapes on them. “oh sweetheart. you’ve scraped yourself up” he said, his left hand coming up to wipe her tear stained cheeks. you’d reached into your bag and pulled out a baby wipe to clean the dirt off of her hands.

“mama will clean your hands okay? she’ll be so gentle you’ll hardly feel it” he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek as you wiped her hands gently, clean of any dirt and bacteria. her sobs increased as you wiped her hands, making you feel terrible but you didn’t want her to get an infection from the dirt, once her hands were clean, you gave them a small kiss and let your hand stroke the back of her neck as she finally started to calm down.

“you okay now sweetheart, shall daddy carry you to see the elephants?” he said, putting a few baby hairs which had fallen out of her pigtail behind her ear and stroked her cheek, a sympathetic smile plastered on both of your faces. she rubbed her eyes gently and nodded, letting her head fall back into his neck. you were so proud of how you both handled that situation, especially Joseph. you saw how much he loved her and how much he wanted to protect her and seeing him run straight to her made your heart swell. you and Aurora were definitely lucky too have him in your lives.

#fanfiction #imagines #joseph quinn character #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn blurb #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn imagines #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn imagine #eddie x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie my beloved #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #ask #anon request #anon reply #anon imagine

[kikisfuneralservice]

KIM JONGHYUN BF HEADCANONS

always wanted to know what kim jonghyun is like as a boyfriend? your questions have been answered…

includes nsfw content‼️

*ALL CONTENT IS PURELY FICTIONAL AND NON-ASSOCIATIVE WITH ANY OF SHINEE OR SM ENTERTAINMENT- PURELY FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES!*

FLUFF:

the two of you make time for each other whenever you can no matter how busy you are

he prefers to stay inside a lot of the time bc he just likes being with you

he does enjoy a good party once and a while tho

ALWAYS wants to bring you to EVERYTHING

he wants to bring you to everything SO he can talk to you the whole time and it’s like?? what was the point of this again? cuz u two are just kinda in the midst of the crowd shouting and laughing at each other with drinks in your hands

drinking competitions def

he knows he won't win but he loves to drink so he’s happy LMFSDFOS

won’t force you to do things either but likes to encourage you to get out of your comfort zone every once and a while

probably was in a chess club in high school

in some niche club or some shit that he wants to rekindle the fire in so he gets you to do some random ass shit like skiing

and he knows everything about it it’s rlly strange for some reason but also embarrassing for you bc u can tell he’s alr a pro and ur just flopping around

also an avid fan of ice skating LOVES THE HOLIDAYS OH MY GOD

every year it only gets more exciting for him? and like he is, he brings you along for it

is a gift giver 

he gets you very thoughtful presents yet he never expects anything back and you try ur goddamn hardest but the only thing he wants at the end of the day is you with him

will be sitting in a chair in ikea and go, “this is the chair i’ll sit in when im eighty years old, i think”

“yeah but ur chair is better than mine”

“i live in luxury, y/n, it’s a lifestyle”

he is one of those bitches that u have to ask him not to bring home a new dog every single day

you already have like 3 of them bc he bought one from the shelter and the other 2 he found on the side of the road and begged you to take in with him

ur lowkey worried every time he asks u to pull over on the freeway bc u fear it’s another dog

(it wasn’t a dog—it was a cat tho)

so now u have 3 dogs and a cat

not that ur complaining

the honeymoon phase goes on for at least two or three years and then it goes straight to old married couple and there’s nothing in between those

also doesn’t like going to bed without solving problems first

he will quite literally stay up for four more hours if it means resolving it before going to bed angry

he just doesn’t like being angry

it doesn’t suit him anyway

teddy bear

he like holds ur face in his hands cuz he likes just gazing into ur eyes cuz he’s stupidly in love and he likes to place singular kisses on your lips so they’re not peppered but they’ll just be singular kisses maybe tries to sneak in there a little just loves holding u he loves u

giggles n touching and u both are kind of just under a blanket just in underwear or some shit and his skin is warm and soft

you love just being on him and feeling him close to u :(

same for him :(

“honey you have this mole on your back”

“jjong-“

“no it’s cute”

“it’s a birth mark?”

*grabby hands*

giggling and sliding his hands downnnnnnnnmmnnn

just laughter and giggles and moving his hands into your pants pls he knows u like it🧍

and you grab his wrists and are like :)

and he’s just :3 n kisses u like what!!

SMUT: 

u come outta the bathroom and see him sitting in bed under the blankets in all of his glory what a beautiful man and he looks up at you like :) hey

he’s just so relieved to see you at the end of the day that’s all

you practically DIVE into bed and he laughs as you practically throw your body over his 

and he’s rushing u to get under the covers before the cold monsters get you 

he likes to wrap his arms around u and kiss ur cheeks everywhere ur forehead top of ur head just peppering everywhere he’s just so happy to see u :(

likes pressing the both of your foreheads together so he can look u in the eyes and then giggle when it gets too quiet

ahh he just likes holding u in his arms even if it’s just your head on his chest just any physical contact is all he wants

when he gets touchy he always ends up kissing u,,, once,,, or twice,, and then again,,, and again- and then ur on top of him and he’s holding you firm in his arms feeling him sigh into your mouth

just loves making out honest to god he lives for you and the noises you make out of satisfaction and the lip smacking it all makes him excited

it’s getting a little too hot and heavy but he still giggles once and a while and u two kinda chuckle at each other once and a while 💀

likes holding your waist as u sit down on his lap and then down to ur ass to touch

he kinda sits up so the two of you are closer and then rolls u over so you’re under him and both of u are kind of heaving for breath but it’s ok bc he loves seeing your chest move up and down for breath and parted lips

just likes necking honestly he likes leaving hickies too just to get you riled up. nights like these where it’s easy and you can feel his lips smile on your skin

running his hands through his hair as he lifts ur arched back up to lay in his arms

and glances down to see ur small panties🙄

he’s like oh and is like ok nvm get on me rn

just wants to feel you get wet in your panties juuuuust for him

likes that satisfaction but also likes seeing u breathily moan out his name

both of ur underwear is wet tho so all’s well and ends well

just the feeling of him growing underneath you and poking at you through your clothed body

he doesn’t want u to take them off tho

so he kinda just moves them ovveerrr

and he’s like they’re just too pretty baby let me fuck you in them please

lifts you by your waist and turns you over so you’re facing the bed but your ass is up

you can look back at him and it’s so contradictory seeing literal hearts pop out of his eyes in adoration for you but something else is also popping out 

really likes just to be able to hold onto your hips 

also reverse cowboy/girl

ass! ass! ass! ass! ass!

will ask if he can smack your ass bc pls pls pls god

wants to smack them while you wear your panties he just likes seeing them jiggle bye

he just likes touching so he has his hands theyre kneading into your ass, your thighs, your tummy, your chest

is a tactile learner

a bit of a hands on guy

for my afab folks god he loves boobs tho

likes playing with them bc he knows he’ll get a reaction from you

unrelated kind of a side note

i feel like he likes the vibrating panties too. doesn’t really care for public action either he just likes having you in front of him seeing you in pleasure

just likes seeing you hold onto the bed frame as you call out his name for him to help

and he always delivers

also will grab you by your thighs bc he wants you to sit on his face

doesn’t care how much u weigh yadda yadda yadda just sit on his face so he can fuck you with his tongue and suffocate 

holds onto your thighs while doing so

likes to leave you shaking 

he likes tasting u but doesn’t always go straight to it

so he’ll leave kisses maybe on your inner thighs,,, to around you, maybe leave kisses before putting hisbtongueinnnn

HE TRAILS THE KISSES UP AND TEASES U HEHEHEH

if he’s holding you he’ll always be rubbing your back

just likes touching your skin

he’s he’s he’s so soft abt it too

like so gentle in caressing u

and he goes to grab you to tickle you💀

just laughs and runs his hands through your hair

let’s you go wash up and then come back to cuddle :/

always likes being big spoon he loves holding you 

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TAGLIST: @keyloml, @jjongolese, @taeminscheesetouch​, @dayskz​, @jonghyuns-husband , @taeminscult1​, @taeminspussylips

OK SURPRISE! this is very unexpected i am aware BUT i just realized that i hadn’t done jjong yet for these! and with that we are done with the bf headcanons! please let me know if you’d like any more future hcs, and you know i will deliver. thank you all again to those who are enjoying my content!

- anne <3

#shinee #shinee fics #shinee hcs #kpop #kpop hcs #kim jonghyun #shinee fluff #shinee smut #kpop fluff #kpop smut #jonghyun fluff #jonghyun smut #jonghyun hcs #headcanons #jonghyun fic #shinee jonghyun

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 69. brb x oc

a/n: BOY OH BOY. this chapter went everywhere??? also next chapter is s m u t

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: fluff, a smidge of suggestive

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/

25/26/27/28/29/30/31/32/33/34/35/36/37/38/39/40/41/42/43/44

45/46/47/48/49/50/51/52/53/54/55/56/57/58/59/60/61/62/63/64

/65/66/67/68

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!! )

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @shrimping-for-all @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix

@lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @j-6o @louisahale @leobabbyyy @kulicny @winter-run @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

@caitsymichelle13 @becks-things @caatheeriinee07 @dhwanishah09 @jesfreedark @katiemcrae @lilmonstrjedi @hobiismyhopeu @teacupsandtopgun @insominac23

-

“What is the one thing you’d share with Nikki?”

Rooster looks up from under the towel, stopping the constant drying of his hair to look at Beatrice, her legs crossed as she sat on the edge of the bed, one hand holding her head up with her arm tucked under its twin, “Huh?”

She smiles almost apologetically, looking down at her legs, “When I was younger my mom would take me to parks so we could try to mimic the bird calling. We’d stay there for hours, it was so much fun and…I thought about doing this with Nikki when she’s old enough.” she laughs nervously, “I mean…unless she’s not into it.”

Bradley returns to drying his hair, dropping the towel to his shoulders and holding the ends with his hands, “You never told me that, that’s pretty cute.” Beatrice just smiles sweetly at him with her cheeks dusted pink, “But I think…if I had to choose, maybe trying to catch snowflakes with our tongues. My mom used to do that with me a lot…and of course we’d have to travel to Virginia to do it.”

“I think that’s doable.”

Bradley laughs softly, disappearing from her view into the bathroom to put on his underwear, “I think so too, but what brought this on?” he doesn’t see her shrug so he peeks his head on the doorframe, “Bea?”

“...My aunt Martha came over a few months back and she said that Nicole will always have something of us in her.”

“Well,she is our daughter.”

“No,no,she meant like…” she moves her hands trying to find words, “There will be things she’ll do that will connect to us. She said that Nicole is also really smart for her age…and i don’t know how she does that.”

“Well, your aunt did say when you’d fall pregnant.” he adds, putting on his pants, “And she was right.”

“...she was.”

Rooster walks out shirtless, with the white tee in his arms, sliding them into the sleeves and bringing the fabric to his shoulders, “I think Nikki will have a great time with us, we’ll be the cool parents,” he slides his head through the collar of his shirt, then pulls it down his body, pulling on the front so he’d be comfortable, “You know? Her dad is an amazing pilot, her mother is an artist,a model and a gorgeous bartender.” Beatrice laughs, rolling her eyes gently as he gets closer to her.

Beatrice is looking down at her hands when he sits down, chewing her lower lip, “I…I don’t really want her to grow too fast.” she confesses, “My parents said we all grew too quickly. That in a blink of an eye everyone was married, graduated or moved out…and I don’t know…maybe I’m being dumb.”

Considering that was one of his fears too, she wasn’t dumb. He looked back at her, seeing how her brows furrowed and her lower lip disappeared between her teeth, “Gorgeous there’s nothing dumb about it, it’s a normal fear.”

“I wish it wasn’t.”

Honestly he preferred to talk about that than Eric, their daughter always made him calm down after all, “Me too, but we are only humans. And new parents,” Beatrice still looked worried so he adjusted himself on the bed to face her fully, “C’mere.”

“Huh?”

He pats his thighs, “C’mere, my lap feels really cold right now.” 

Beatrice looks from his lap to his face, slowly smiling and eventually climbing on his lap, her legs dangling on the side of his body as his lips touched her temple with his arms wrapping around her middle, “...I know it’s because we are new parents,” she comments with her eyes staring at the veins on his arm, “And I know it’s because…of my own traumas and whatever, but I don’t…I don’t want to overprotect Nicole too much.” he hums so she continues, “I want her…to climb trees,I want her to play,I want her to enter the ocean without someone picking her up every five seconds while she’s having fun.”

Rooster had his lips on her temple when he spoke again, “She will be fine. I think we both can manage being protective around her.” he says, “We already are even though we never had to endure anything bad.”

‘True.”

“So, believe me I think we’ll do a good job.” he says, kissing her scalp and leaning back to cup her chin with his thumb and forefinger, turning her to face him, “We’ll be fine, we’ll do good…we have each other.”

Beatrice smiles again, leaning into his touch when he cupped her cheek, “Thank you,Roos…maybe,maybe soon we can take her to the beach? At least for the first time?”

“I don’t see why not, it’s good for her to see the ocean for the first time too.” he says, rubbing the outside of her thigh in a back and forth motion, lips still pressed to her head, “Are you feeling any better?” she nods, “Any doubts that you have are gone?” she nods again, chuckling a bit, “Or else I’d kiss them out of you.”

“Oh then I have some still in there.”

They both laughed, quietly, amorously almost, with Rooster keeping his eyes around Beatrice, shielding her from the outside as much as he could, “You know what,” she ‘hm’ed at him, “You are very cheeky,Mrs.Bradshaw.”

“I learned from the best,” she looks up at him, “Mr.Bradshaw.”

Rooster’s eyes softened and his thumb brushed her cheek, “You know I never tire of you saying that.” he begins, “And I never tire of looking at you when you say it.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh,yeah.” he chuckles, adjusting her on his lap before resting his chin on the crook of her neck, inhaling the lavender scent, feeling the warmth of her body. He always missed her when he was gone, but this time he just couldn’t manage to let her go, even if he tried his arms refused to open, “Makes your eyes shine.”

And Beatrice laughs again, music to his ears like always, her hair tickling his arms as she moved, “Well,I have something wonderful to look at.” and his own cheeks flushed a dark red, making his golden skin almost appear bronze on the face. Beatrice chews her lower lip, wraps her arms around his neck with her fingers interlaced on his nape and tilts her head, “I made you blush again.”

“Are you going to make this a habit?”

“Probably.” 

He smirks, dropping his lips to her cheekbone, pressing a trail of kisses to her jawline and to her lips, “Mm,as long as I can do the same.” he says, breathing in her scent one more time, “Make it even.” 

“You always make me blush,Roos.”

“True,I do.” he whispers, “And I love it.”

Beatrice,who now felt much better than before, just smiled before their lips met in a slow kiss. One that eventually got a lot more intense, one of his hands sliding under the skirt of her dress to where he could touch the elastic of her underwear, turning them around so she’s on the bed and he’s on top of her.

She didn’t stop him, why would she, just brought him closer, gasping and moaning into his mouth when one of his hands came up to gently lower the strap of her dress, pulling the fabric down to show the upper side of her chest, “I’ve always wanted to fuck you when you are wearing this dress.” he growls, rubbing the gentle bump of her hipbone and the soft flesh that covered it, “It really is that nice.”

Beatrice laughs breathlessly into his mouth, tilting her hips upwards to meet his crotch - and the obvious bulge that was making itself known - “How long have you thought about it? You never told me.”

“Ever since I first saw you wearing it.” he murmured, “You looked cute and sexy and all I wanted was to fuck you.”

Beatrice whimpers, feeling his middle and ring finger brush the covered outer side of her sex slowly, with just enough pressure to touch her clit underneath, “You-You thought about that often…”

“Oh you have no idea,gorgeous.” he grinds his hips against her thigh while his hand is still busy between her legs. Beatrice’s soft moans and cries were music to his ears just like her laughter was. He desperately wanted her and it was more than missing her, it was about…having her close, being close, touching her, making sure she’s okay.

The ‘E’ talk made him angry and uneasy, he couldn’t help but suddenly feel overprotective over Beatrice when there’s a chance her ex is still squirming about like the little worm he was. Beatrice sighs out his name when his lips latch on the bare skin of her neck, biting the soft flesh and licking the freshly made abrasions, “Open them.” he whispers against her skin, referring to her legs and she does as he asks, spreading them even wider so he has more ground to cover, “Thank you,pretty girl.”

“Y-You are welcome.” she whispers, still feeling his fingers press up against her, his thumb hooking on the elastic band of her underwear and gently pulling down enough for his nail to brush over her pubic mound, scraping the skin there ever so gently, “A-Ah, Roos…”

“Sssh, it’s okay,” he mutters, “I’m going to take good care of you,gorgeous.”

Beatrice whimpered, “I-I,I h-had something p-planned.” the underwear gets lower and his hand slides inside, no barrier was preventing him from touching her right now, “B-But–”

“Oh?” she can’t speak because his middle finger is prodding her entrance, not yet pushing inside, “Do tell.”

“I-I…I can’t because–”

And suddenly the doorbell rings. 

Rooster groans, dropping his head on her chest and breathing in and out heavily, feeling her move and looking up to see her looking back at him, “I’ll check.” he mutters, pulling his hand out and licking the tip of his middle finger, brows low and pants tight,erection throbbing, “You stay there, pretty and flushed.”

Beatrice could only nod with her chest heaving, hair a mess as she sits up to watch him walk out of the room. Eleanor was already at the door, sniffing the mail slot with her tail straight as a rod. 

Maybe he should’ve checked on his phone first.

Rooster just mentally prepared himself, rubbing his face with both hands, “Ellie,down girl.” he calls when the white dog stood on her hind legs to look to the outside, she wasn’t growling which was a shocker for him, “Ellie,” he tries again when she steps between him and the door, he has to pick her up like she was a sack of potatoes under his arm, opening the door with a displeased frown.

Once he does he’s met with a young man, who looks up at him in surprise, probably because of the absolute murder in his gaze and a huge dog in his arm, “Yes, can I help you?” he didn’t want to sound snappy but there was something else he’d want to be doing.

“Oh,um,sorry. I-I’m one of Marcus’ assistants,” not the same one from before he noted, this one had long rainbow colored hair and was wearing bright pink contacts, “H-He asked me to bring this,” he lifts a box, “To Mrs.Beatrice.”

“Ah.” Rooster bounces Ellie under his hold when she started to slip, still holding the large dog like a potato sack, grabbing the small box from the boy’s hand, turning it back and forth in his hold, “Okay, thank you-”

“Oh, h-he also asked me to uh,” he pats his denim jacket, pulling out a piece of paper, “To give this to her as well, as a thanks.” Rooster just stared at him and the boy placed the piece of paper on top of the box, “A-Anyway, I’ll…uh,go now. Have a nice day!”

Rooster watches the boy scamper away and disappear from his view, before he sighed and stepped back inside, kicking the door closed after he placed Eleanor down. The dog returned to her alert position against the door as Rooster made his way back upstairs, looking at both deliveries with his brow up.

Once he’s back, Beatrice is sitting on the edge, still flushed but alert when he gets inside, “What is it?”

“Something from Marcus,” he waves the box and the folded paper, “He wanted to thank you.”

“Oh, he didn’t have to.” she says, reaching for the box when he holds it closer to her arms, picking it up gingerly and then setting it aside, only looking down at the folded paper with a frown, “This one too?” her husband nods, falling on the bed behind her with a gentle groan, his body begging for them to continue the activities from before but he chose to give her some time to check the gifts Marcus gave her.

He hears her ripping the paper that covered the box, then the ‘sshhff’ as she pulls the box from inside, followed by a click of a latch. Rooster peeks one eye open to check on her, but she has her back turned so he couldn’t see much, having to hold himself on his elbows to have a peek of what was the mysterious gift, “Oh this is so sweet.” she says and he sees her hand moving, turning whatever it was back and forth, “He really didn’t have to.’

“What is it?”

Beatrice looks over her shoulder at him and turns around to sit on her knees. “It’s a small muse figurine.” she says, holding the greek esque statue that stood in the middle of her palm, “Since he was working on Greek aesthetics and such, he said he was going to give me something that worked for both myself and the collection. And this is,” she lifts the figurine to check the bottom, “Erato, the muse of love poetry and lyric poetry…and erotic poetry as well.”

That got his attention.

“Go on.”

She chuckles, “Don’t be a pervert like that.”

“You are the one who said she’s the muse of Erotic poetry.”

Beatrice just smiles more, turning the small figurine back and forth in her hand before putting it away, “I also said she’s the muse of love,’ she slowly climbs on his lap, “And lyric poetry.” she whispers, lowering her mouth to his, “You are the one who chose to latch on that specific one for some weird reason.”

Rooster was so glad to have that pressure on top of his crotch he let out a soft groan, placing his hands on her thighs and moving her hips slowly to get some friction between them, “Not my fault you bring that out of me.” he whispers, “Now can we go back to what we were doing?”

“Hmmm…” she kisses the tip of his nose, “Don’t you want to know what I’m planning?”

“If it involves you and I getting naked and fucking until our legs give out, I’m all ears.”

Beatrice bites her lower lip, she loved when he talked like that. “It’s part of the plan.”

Rooster’s brown eyes darted to meet hers, his chest expanding as he inhaled “Part of the plan,huh?” he just squeezed her thighs, the plump flesh molding against his fingertips and he couldn’t really think about nothing else but having those thighs wrapped around his head as she screamed his name, “How long will this plan take?”

Beatrice thought about it, biting her lower lip, “If you give me…fifteen minutes I can do it.” she says against his mouth, kissing his lips sweetly and repeatedly, “And if you can wait for me…here on the bed, all flushed up and pretty.”

The usage of his own words really did make him flush up a little bit more than before, the hold on her thighs got firmer and his lips dragged down to her jawline, right where her jaw ended and her ear began, “Hurry up then.” he says, hand swooping down to slap her ass with a resonant sound only for a squeak from his wife to follow, “And I’ll be here waiting for you.”

Beatrice giggles, cupping his face to kiss him one more time before she hurried off his lap, the movement making him hold back a groan and look up at the ceiling when he felt like he was about to burst. Instead he interlaced his hands behind his head and followed Beatrice with his eyes as she walked away from him and into the bathroom.

However,a gentle cry coming from Nicole’s room stopped her, “Oh, is it time already?” 

Rooster huffed out a defeated yet amused sigh, “I think so.” another cry, this one louder, “Do you want me to check on her?”

“No,I can do it.” she looks back at him apologetically, “I’m sorry Roos-”

“There’s time later.” he murmurs, but her eyes move from his face to the bulge tenting his pants, “I’ll be fine. Go.”

In reality he wouldn’t be fine, not unless he took care of it right now. It was starting to get uncomfortable.

“I’ll make it up to you.” Bea says, “I promise.”

-

He was a bit surprised when his in-laws showed up late that night to pick Nicole up. At first he was…unsure if he wanted his daughter to go when he just got back, but when Beatrice appeared behind him at the door, telling her parents “Thank you for picking Nicole up.”

“No problem,Tesoro.” her father says, “You two have a nice dinner out.”

Dinner?

Rooster hid his reaction nicely, only waving at Nicole and his in-laws when they were already at the car, before he closed the door and looked over at Beatrice. His wife looked impish, with that cheeky smile on her face and her hands behind her back, “...dinner,huh?” she nods, still smiling, “Is this part of the plan?”

“Hmmmm…it is now.” she says, “I thought about it earlier today after…the several interruptions we had,” she slowly wraps her arms around his neck, pursing her lips as she spoke, “And after you had to deal with it yourself…and I thought,well…why not treat you?”

“Treat me,huh?” another nod, her lower lip sliding into her mouth, “...I do like treats.”

“And with Halloween right around the corner I thought you deserved an early one.”

Bradley tried to hold her when she stepped away from him but the fabric of her dress slipped from his fingers like water, her hands sliding down his chest with her fingernails gently scraping the fabric over his pecs, “Where exactly are we going then?”

“Somewhere that’s just perfect right now.” she says, backing away from him, “Not too cold and not too warm since we’re nearing fall.”

He furrows his brows with a confused smile, chuckling at the sudden riddle with his hands propped on his hips, “Uh-huh.” she just looked so proud of herself, still backing away as she neared up the stairs “And what should I be wearing?”

“Something easy to take off,Lieutenant.” and she turns around to rush up the steps, leaving Rooster standing down there with his mouth open and with a shudder darting all over his body. He had to calm down before he did something here.

And if she wanted to treat him, who was he to deny that?

“What’s easy to take off?” he mumbles to himself, looking down at his denim pants “These are kind of easy to take off.” maybe it was his already horny mind but he couldn’t wait to see what Beatrice was planning because there was that glint in her eye. The one he saw back on that Christmas night - oh he still remembers that every day - or the day she dressed up - and he ripped that suit immediately - the one that he knew would be responsible for magic to happen.

He inhaled shakily, with a smile, then rushed upstairs to meet her in their room, thinking on what exactly he could wear for this sudden treat dinner.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x named reader

[ghosty-dot-com]

GIVE ME MORE | Philip Graves one shot (18+ MDNI!!!)

SYNOPSIS: Lt. Grey and Commander Graves have known each other since basic training and have been through every mission together. One night during working a mission, the two find themselves patching each other up and one thing leads to another...

WARNING: contains smut, strong language, mentions of war, depictions of blood and wounds

SMUT WARNING: bottom!graves, grinding, unprotected sex, oral, overstim (i'm making this man cry ong), slight CNC(?), slight degradation, cock riding

NOTE: the "OC" in this one shot is a reader stand-in since i don't like using Y/N or [name]. Lt. Azariah Grey is a transmasc (ftm) nonbinary oc who had top surgery (no bottom surgery). LT. Grey goes by he/they pronouns but in this oneshot, my oc will go by HE. He is the default reader-stand-in oc so if you see an "x reader" one shot, Lt. Grey is technically the reader. Meaning, HE WILL NOT HAVE A CONSISTENT BACKSTORY DEPENDING ON THE ONE SHOT HE IS INVOLVED IN.

_____________+____________

It had been months since Commander Graves and his team of Shadows was sent to the Alps to destroy an old bunker Al-Qatala had taken over. It was an old World War II bunker hidden away, and an AQ cell was using it as a store house for illegal weapons, hazardous chemicals, and as a prison hold for POWs.

The mission the Shadow team was given was to find one of their own and bring him home. Unfortunately, the whole rescue mission ended with the team being led into a trap. Only LT. Grey and Commander Graves made it out alive, but just barely.

The two found themselves in a vacant cabin in the middle of the woods. A snowstorm raged outside and their only supplies were the clothes on their backs and anything freeze-dried they could find in the basement of the cabin. Lieutenant Grey managed to find some blankets left in one of the barren closets and set up the bed in the one bedroom.

Blood drenched the left side of his head and slowly spilled from his ear. More blood could be seen soaking through his black pants as he walked to the kitchen to find any water or see if the sink was working.

"Azariah, you find any med kits?" Graves called from the kitchen before he drank from the faucet. He took off his gloves and rinsed any dirt and blood from his skin. He heard footsteps behind him and saw the lieutenant hold up a small med kit.

"There's not much in here, but we can manage. We need to bathe and clean ourselves before we even use this." Azariah's British accent was hoarse from screaming orders and choking on the toxic gasses from earlier.

"I won't take long in the shower." Graves said as he looked at his Lieutenant, eyes wandering over his blood splattered face and the blood dripping from his ears.

Could always just join you... Azariah wanted to say but kept his mouth shut. He watched Graves walk into the bedroom and moments later he heard the shower start.

Azariah walked back to the bedroom and started to take off his gear. Velcro and plastic buckles filled the silence until he was left in his tight black compression shirt, pants and belt, and his boots. Every muscle ached in his body as he sat on the floor and removed his muddy boots. He could smell himself just from sitting there, and it made his nose scrunch up.

He glanced to the pile of gear he had taken off and reached over to dig around in it, finding a necklace with a silver cross on it and put it over his head. Azariah was never the religious type, but the necklace had belonged to his mother before she died. He carried it around with him everywhere he went and wore it in honor of her. Right now, he needed the comfort of home since he and his Commander were stuck in the middle of nowhere. Their radios were dead and no one knew what happened. All they could hope for was a search party General Shepherd would send.

Azariah didn't put much faith in the man to send a search party after them.

Graves emerged from the bathroom in a clean shirt and sweats. He must have found the clothes when the two were doing a once-over of the cabin.

He looked...not like Graves--with his hair sticking in all different directions and in a t-shirt too big for him. Azariah resisted the urge to chuckle at how soft his Commander looked.

"I'll find ya some clothes. Get cleaned up so I can bandage you up."

"You need to get patched up too, Commander."

"I already did. It's you I'm worried about with that head wound and the area that knife had grazed you.

Azariah sighed, shaking his head as he stood up and walked to the bathroom. He closed the door and began to strip his dirty clothes off his body. Looking in the mirror, he saw the area that knife grazed him. It was on his hip bone and thankfully the gash wasn't deep. However, the irritated skin and the puffiness around it showed it was in the early stages of becoming infected.

The lieutenant didn't waste anytime in showering. He was never one to take long showers anyway so he was out just as quickly as he got in. He gently rinsed his hair since his head wound still bled before he turned off the water and stepped out. He wrapped a towel around his waist and walked out of the bathroom to see Graves laying down. He was fighting sleep but sat up when he saw Azariah.

Graves watched his lieutenant tuck part of the towel around his waist in before grabbing the clean clothes to change into. He eyed the scars on his upper body, seeing they were almost white. Eyes trailed down to the silver cross necklace around his neck and down his toned and smooth body, eyeing the scars from wounds and the knife graze that had stopped bleeding. He noticed the towel had slid lower to reveal his hips and the pale scars from past missions on his skin.

He shook his head, chuckling lightly to himself before he stood up to grab the med kit to help patch up Azariah. Once the lieutenant was dressed in the oversized tank top and sweats, Graves approached and started to examine the head wound on the side of his lieutenant's head. It wasn't a big gash, but it was deep enough to need stitches. Instead, Graves used butterfly bandages, gauze, and tape to keep it covered and safe from being infected.

"I need you to stand for me, LT." He said to him and Azariah stood without hesitation.

Graves lifted up his shirt and pulled the hem of his sweats low enough to examine the graze. Azariah tensed when he felt his hands on his bare skin as he held up his shirt, jaw tensing as he looked elsewhere.

"Am I making you nervous, Lieutenant?" Graves asked, a knowing tone in his voice as he looked at Azariah.

The lieutenant rolled his eyes to hide his flustered state and started to step back. Graves looped his finger under the hem of his sweats and pulled him back to him, Azariah now blushing darkly but it was barely visible with the dim light coming from the bathroom.

"Answer me, Grey."

"No."

"No what."

"No to your question. Am I good now because my legs are killing me?"

Graves chuckled as he put the gauze on Azariah's hip, fingertips smoothing it out slowly and almost in a teasing manner. Azariah remained where he was, face burning hot when he realized something.

He didn't want to move away from his Commander, and he definitely wanted him to touch him again like how he did moment ago.

Graves smirked before he circled his finger in Azariah's sweats and slowly moved his hand into them. Azariah kept his gaze on his Commander's face, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of giving into his touch.

"How long do you think we'll be alone out here?" Azariah's voice faltered, a harsh breath leaving his nose as he slid his hands underneath Graves' shirt. His cold hands trailed up his stomach and fingers traced scars as he looked at him.

"Who knows..." Graves' breaths wavered. "Maybe a couple weeks.

Graves stepped backwards as Azariah firmly pushed him until he was sat on the bed, eyes looking up at his lieutenant in desperation as he started to feel himself get hard. Azariah pulled his knee up and pushed against Graves' crotch, the blond groaning and cursing under his breath as he let himself fall onto his back.

"Let's make our time alone worth it, yeah?" Azariah's gravelly voice breathed in his ear and Graves whimpered underneath him. The lieutenant grinned as he hooked his fingers around the man's sweatpants hem and pulled them down.

"Fuck me..." Graves groaned as he watched his lieutenant take off his shirt and he eyed the silver cross hanging down from his neck as Azariah leaned forward. The blond reached up and brought him down to kiss him, the actions making Azariah almost fall on him.

Azariah straddled his waist, grinding against Graves' crotch and feeling him getting hard. Graves held his lieutenant against him, feeling the other's lips trail down to his jaw and down his neck. Teeth bit the sensitive part of his neck and he tightened his grip on Azariah's arms.

"Like that, Commander?" The lieutenant whispered into his ear as he sucked and licked over the bite to soothe it.

"Lieutenant...."

Azariah continued to move down, hands pushing his shirt up as he pressed his lips to Graves' scars then slid his pants low enough to get his cock out.

Graves kept his eyes on the ceiling, fingers gripping the sheets underneath him as a loud gasp escaped his lips when Azariah's tongue licked his tip. Hips moved forward as his tongue teased him and it make him whine loudly.

"I've barely touched you, sir." Azariah hoarse voice said as he tightened his fingers around Graves' cock. It wasn't to hurt him, but just to tease him more and watch the blond whimper for him.

"Use your words, Graves."

"I..." The blond tried to calm his breathing when he felt Azariah's tongue on him once again. He felt his lips kiss his tip then move down his shaft, teeth lightly grazing his skin.

"Give me more!"

Graves closed his eyes, his lips parted. He felt Azariah shift his weight then that's when Graves felt the man's lips on his. He kissed back, desperate for his lieutenant. His hands slid behind Azariah's neck and pulled him closer, eyes opening slightly to see him fully undressed.

"You want more, sir?" Azariah breathed.

"Yes. Please..."

Azariah pressed his lips onto Graves' again, one hand moving down to grab his leaking cock and position it underneath him. In one slow motion, Azariah slid onto his cock and began moving his hips to get into a more comfortable position. Graves sat up slightly and propped himself up on his arm before falling back down and gripping Azariah's hips. He watched his lieutenant go up and down, eyeing the silver cross around his neck yet again to ground himself.

Every movement Azariah did made his head spin and his eyes tear up. His eyes were squeezed shut but he opened them when he heard Azariah moaning his name. Just hearing off his lieutenant's lips...he couldn't describe what it did to him but it made him grin.

He could feel Azariah tighten around him as he leaned down and kissed his Commander. Graves kissed back, tears and sweat soaking his skin as he came. Instead of letting him pull out, Azariah kept going, hips rolling to hit his sweet spot. Graves but his lip, tears welling up in his eyes rolling down his cheeks.

"Azariah... stop..." He didn't want him to stop. His actions let the other know to keep going—to keep riding his cock and make him cum.

"There you go, sir." Azariah breathed as he intertwined their fingers together and pin Graves' arms above his head. "You look so pathetic whimpering for me. I wonder what the others would think of you like this."

Azariah's movements started to get rough, and Graves could feel himself about to cum again. He threw his head back, breathing heavily as he bucked his hips up and heard Azariah gasp.

"Azariah, please..."

"Please what, sir?"

"Stop, I need—" Graves stumbled over his words as he came again, Azariah moaning as he felt Graves hit his sweet spot.

"You don't want to stop."

The blond shook his head as he tried to move out of Azariah, but he couldn't. He wanted to feel every time the lieutenant tightened around his cock; wanted to see the cum run down Azariah's inner thighs and onto his own skin. Watching Azariah ride his cock and feeling the friction made Graves beg for more.

He felt Azariah's fingers intertwine with his before his lips kissed his. Graves let go of one of the lieutenant's hands and placed his hand behind his neck. He guided his face to his jaw then to his neck where Azariah bit the sensitive spot before sucking it.

"Azariah..." Graves moaned out as he used his free hand to grip the top's thigh. A handprint would definitely be there in the morning.

"You like that?" The lieutenant grinned, breath fanning his ear and sending chills down his arms. "You look so pathetic underneath me. Begging and crying for more. I wonder what the others would think if they saw."

Azariah rolled his hips against, Graves letting loose a loud moan.

"If only I could fuck you just as good as you're fucking me. I'd make you a worse mess than you are right now."

"Lieutenant...! Please!"

Graves cried when he felt Azariah bite down on his neck again, the sting of his teeth making him gasp harshly. Azariah didn't let up. He sucked, licked, and bit as hard as he could, but he didn't break skin.

The blond squeezed his eyes shut as he felt Azariah's tongue flick his nipples before sucking them too. With this and Azariah's hips grinding against him, it was starting to become too much. The stinging from the bites, the soreness from the licks and sucks....

"Please..."

He didn't realize tears were coming from his eyes until he felt his lieutenant on top of him wipe them away. He kept his eyes shut as he felt Azariah kiss him gently, lips sore and puffy and covered in spit as he opened his mouth. Graves stuck his tongue into Azariah's mouth, whimpering and incoherently pleading.

"Use your words, sir. What do you want?" Azariah whispered into his ear, voice husky and it made Graves inhale deeply.

"I want more." He breathed out. "I want more. Want you to ride my cock until I tell you can't."

Azariah grinned and positioned himself on Graves, now sitting up and looking down at his Commander. Graves didn't care if he was a mess underneath him. He didn't care if he was covered in hickeys and Azariah wasn't marked at all. He just wanted him.

"Give me more."

"Yes, sir."

#cod mw22 #graves x reader stand in #graves one shot #graves cod #graves smut #philip graves #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #call of duty mwii #mw22 #skellyghosts #ghosty dot com #ghosty #18+ content #minors dni #smut #this is my legacy #fandoms #cod fandom #cod mw smut #smut smut and more smut #smut shot #one shot #yippee

[deadlyflames]

Swanfire Month Day 14: Classic fairy-tale that reminds you of Swanfire: Orpheus and Eurydice

Emma was a poor girl. You might say she was touched by the gods. She would to bring the world back into tune, and fix what was wrong.

Baelfire was a hungry young boy. A runaway from everywhere he’d ever been. He was no stranger to world, no stranger to the wind.

It's a love song. It's a tale of a love from long ago.

It's a sad song. We keep singing even so.

It's an old song. It's an old tale from way back when.

And we're gonna sing it again and again.

This one is a bit of a weird connection. You can blame my obsession with Hadestown. I drew a lot of comparisons between Orpheus and Eurydice and Emma and Neal. Both work in either role. But I went with this interpretation.

I have this very specific image of a Swanfire version of the Underworld storyline. Like, it’s so easy for me to picture that arc being done for Swanfire. I mean, Rumplestilskin would obviously help Emma get to the Underworld for his son. Henry would follow for his dad. Regina would follow for Henry and Snowing would follow for their daughter. Even Hook would go with them for Baelfire.

But I think a really interesting way they could have used the Swanfire relationship in the Underworld was for Emma to do the Orpheus test. Because it makes so much sense for them.

(I think that’s what they were trying to reference with the true love test? Maybe? but it fell kinda flat in my opinion, but that’s a whole other thing)

Because it’s a test of trust and with their history, that trust was shaky, and still in the process of being rebuilt.

Just picture it though.

Emma walking through the dark.

She can’t look behind her and, for added uncertainty, Neal can’t speak either.

You can hear the echoing of footsteps and you can see the shadow behind her, but it’s uncertain. Maybe it’s a trick. Maybe it’s not.

Maybe he only said he would be behind her because he wanted to get her out of the Underworld.

She’s talking about all the hurt she felt after he abandoned her. All the pain they’ve gone through since they reunited. How he broke her heart and how she’s not even sure if he’s there now.

From Emma’s perspective, her and Neal are always being separated by powers beyond their control. When he left her when they were young, because of her destiny and his father’s curse. When he fell through the portal after being shot. When the curse was erased and they were ripped from each other again.

Why should this be any different?

It takes all her strength not to look behind her. To take that leap and believe that this will work.

When she’s just about to exit the underworld and return to the world above, she hits that pivotal fork in the road.

She can let her doubt take route, and turn to look behind. She can loose him one final time, and this time will be for good. But it will be the last time she gets her heart broken.

Or she can continue on. She can reach across all that hurt between them, and put her trust in him once again. She can open her heart up, even though letting him in risks the chance of losing him again.

The trust vs doubt dichotomy would be so interesting to tackle. Because that kind of blind faith is something that Emma has always struggled with, and it would be especially relevant to her relationship with Neal. It either ends in tragedy or a happy ending. I would lean towards happy ending because I feel like Emma choosing trust would be a good moment of growth.

Xxxx

Though the tragedy angle would break me. Can y’all freaking imagine. Emma turning back and Neal is there. She’s stunned and horrified.

“It’s you?”

He’s shocked but gives her a broken, comforting smile before he fades away.

“It’s me.”

Emma’s next arc is about the aftermath of guilt and grief. And then we all cry forever.

Anyway, sorry this part of the post was totally incoherent. The Underworld plot was a total missed opportunity. Hadestown is great, listen to it if you wanna cry.

#swanfire #swanfire month 2022 #ouat #emma swan #baelfire #nealfire #neal cassidy #once upon a time

[giggly-squiggily]

Stardust Crusaders Tickle Headcanons

Heyo everyone! So recently I’ve been really into Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure; so much so I’ve been thinking about making headcanons for the squad. This show was a blast, and I absolutely loved the characters!

Here we go! :D

Jotaro Kujo

-Stoic grumpy man: he’s the second most ticklish person in the crusaders.

- I think he’s a switch? Leans more towards the lee side, but that’s only because he doesn’t engage in tickle fights unless he’s either challenged or annoyed (so basically- if he get’s annoyed with Kakyoin and Polnareff’s antics). He’s pretty indifferent to tickling but will not like it if he’s in a bad mood.

- He’s got a really bad tickle spot on the middle of his rib cage that without fail will absolutely break any resistance he has. His neck and shoulders are also pretty sensitive- especially around the star birthmark.

- He’s got a gruff, shaky laugh that gradually grows into deep rich laughter. He’s one of those people who will absolutely curse you out- might even use Star Platinum to move you out of the way (if your Kakyoin or Ponlareff- prepare to fly. If your his S/O- it’s more a gentle lift and plop into a nearby chair/bed)

- That said if you have a stand and tickle Star Platinum with it (who loves being tickled- I’m calling it like it is) Jotaro’s doomed. Try to have some mercy on the guy.

- As a ler? Pure evil. No joke, this man is the devil if pushed. Completely merciless, he’ll happily use Star Platinum to hold down his targets while he destroys them with tickles. You know Star’s “Ora Ora” attack? He’ll do that but instead of punches it’s relentless tickles and mayhem. He’ll stop- eventually.

Joseph Jostar

- Canonically ticklish.

- This man is a Ler leaning switch; he just RADIATES tickle monster energy! It doesn’t matter if it’s his daughter, grandson- the other Crusaders, his S/O; he’s gonna getcha!

- He’s sensitive pretty much everywhere, but especially his back and sides. His laugh is a mix of “OH MY GOD!”s and wheezy grandpa snorts and giggles that make him seem younger. He tends to yell a lot while laughing but rest assure he’s not dying- just really ticklish.

- Unlike Jotaro, he won’t use his Stand in tickle fights- Hermit Purple is great in theory but also spiny, so he doesn’t want to risk hurting anyone with it. (Eventually he realizes the Stand won’t actually cut anyone- when this happens he has a new weapon of disposal but won’t use it unless his target is comfortable with it) Also it’s a pride thing: He’s a firm believer in “I can get you pinned and tickled within a matter of minutes!” So far he’s yet to be proven wrong.

- The goofiest ler ever- he’s a big talker and teaser, using every technique in the book (and within your comfort level) to bring out the cutest giggles and laughs! While he won’t bring his stand to the fight, he’ll gladly bring Avdol or Polnareff with him (”The more muscle the better”) One time he even brought Iggy- this backfired tremendously when said dog stole his prosthetic hand.

- He’ll reminisces a lot while tickling someone; be it about a memory from years back or something that happened literally five minutes ago. He’s fully aware of what he’s doing and often pulls the “Hey remember this thing from literally seconds ago” just to drive people nuts. “Oi, Jotaro! Weren’t you ticklish along here when you were a kid?” “Oh, I think I just remembered- you can’t stand having your hips tickled, huh Avdol?” “What? I’m not that old, Kakyoin! I just remembered something the other day- come here!” No one is safe!

Muhammad Avdol

- You know those people who can turn on and off their ticklishness? Avdol is one of those people. If he knows the tickles are coming he can go full Gargoyle and block it out- much to the annoyance of the others. So far the only person this hasn’t worked on is Joseph- the man is just too good at finding tickle spots!

- Speaking of; Avdol’s neck and shoulders are pretty ticklish! Gentle traces there when he’s not prepared will leave him twitching and giggling like a child. If you really want to get him, go for his hips. This man will plead in Arabic for mercy and it’s the cutest thing in the world.

- I’d say Advol is a fairly strong ler. With his gargoyle-like resistance and experience with Joseph’s shenanigans, he’s proven to be a fearsome foe in tickle wars. He doesn’t even need to do anything fancy- he just reaches out and starts tickling whomever dared to face him. Usually it’s either Polnareff or Kakyoin, but occasionally he’ll tickle Jotaro if the younger man seems particularly moody.

-He doesn’t use his stand during tickle fights (not that he really needs to). Magician’s Red is pretty hot, and the last thing he wants to do is accidentally burn someone. He prefers to keep it traditional with his own tickle endeavors.

- Not much of a tease- prefers to just have general conversation with his targets while tickling them. “Mr. Joestar, it’s important we- Kakyoin hush I’m speaking- take our time resting when we can. You never know when- have you always been ticklish here?- the next stand user is going to strike.” Just continuing on his chat while bringing his targets to their tickly demise.

Noriaki Kakyoin 

- Most ticklish Crusader hands down. This man is WEAK to just about anything tickle related. The type that just crumbles to ghost tickles.

- Despite this he’s a true switch and the primary catalyst for most tickle fights. He’s got no shame and will happily attack the others (especially Jotaro) even if it means certain death. 

- Worst spots are his legs (credit to the wonderful @/ticklishfanart) Anything from the tip of his toes to the tops of his thighs are incredibly sensitive. Squeezes, scribbles, prods- it will all work wonders on wrecking our cherry loving dork! He’s also ticklish on his ribs and stomach, but his legs really are the best place to go if you want to break him down.

- Crazy laugh (I’m so sorry) Just like the anime. It’s ridiculously contagious and borderline alarming when you first hear it. If you point it out while tickling him he’ll laugh harder, and it get’s even more crazy sounding. It’s one of the few things that will get Jotaro and Polnareff laughing without fail. At some point he even made a dolphin like shriek that nearly killed the other’s right then and there with how funny it sounded.

- The OG of using his Stand for tickle fights. He will break out Hierophant green for just about anything- be it to hold down his targets or throw them off completely. This backfires immensely if the others decide to gang up on him (Which they do) but if it’s a one on one fight, Kakyoin will cheat and break out his stand.

- Him and Polnareff are Team Tickle Monster, but the French man is the only person Kakyoin can never get the advantage over. Polnareff is simply too powerful- he knows all of the redhead’s tricks!

Jean Pierre Polnareff

- The muscle of Team Tickle Monster- this man is a menace when paired off with others. Polnareff loves making people laugh, and in turn loves to laugh; so tickle fights are as natural as breathing for him.

- He’s ticklish along his chest, armpits and waist. Maybe even his ears? I can see him having really sensitive ears :D. He’s someone that you’d think would be incredibly weak to hard tickles with all those muscle, but if anything he prefers the lighter ones. Running your hands along his chest, poking his sides: all these things will make him utterly weak in the knees.

- Squeals in French, squeals in French, SQUEALS IN FRENCH! It’s usually a sign he’s close to his limit if he’s squeaking out his native tongue while getting wrecked. He has a really squeaky laugh that’s borderline mouse-like! While not as contagious as Kakyoin’s dolphin fits, it’s still really funny and endearing to listen to!

- Using Stands in tickle fights? You already know it! He’s not above breaking out Silver Chariot to cause mischief- blunting the tip of the sword to randomly poke and prod whomever he’s tickling (Think Tom and Jerry ala this scene) He’s mainly due it to Kakyoin and Joseph- the few times he did it to Jotaro he nearly lost his head. If he’s not using his Stand he’ll happily grab whomever’s in reach and bring them to their tickly doom!

- Such a tease, oh my god! He’ll do the whole “Coochie coo” thing and baby talk, but if your not comfortable with that he’ll adjust to whatever teasing style you prefer (if any at all- if teasing isn’t your thing he’ll just compliment you until your red in the face). He’ll sing praises about your laugh and how he could listen to it all day. He’s also not above tickling to get silly information out of someone (This is how he found out about Jotakak), so be ready if you choose to hide something from him!

Thanks for reading! :D

#jjba #stardust crusaders #tickle #tickle headcanons #headcanons #jotaro kujo #kakyoin noriaki #jean pierre polnareff #muhammed avdol #Joseph jostar #this is completely self indulgent #I'm ten billion percent gonna make something Jotakak no one can stop me now! #fluff

[alltoolewis]

Speak Now- Lewis Hamilton✨

I really wanted to do some type of Taylor Swift series again based on some of my favorite songs of hers! So I'm starting it off with a little Taylor Swift classic Speak Now (If you have any old Taylor songs you'd like for this series please send them in)… This is sort of like a forbidden x friend to lovers trope, so I really hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Summary- After not being invited to your best friend's wedding you find a way to sneak in hoping to see him before the ceremony... but when the band starts to play and the doors open, you begin to think it's too late and have lost him forever. However when the preacher says the famous words 'speak now' you are given one last chance to get him back..

"Are you really doing this?" Your friend, Sophie spoke over your car speaker, sounding rather unsure of your actions... and to be honest so were you. Looking around the church car park, you let out a nervous sigh "I'm guessing so.." Your hands shook as you contemplated everything, panic slowly rising as it finally sunk in what you were doing... you were crashing a wedding "Do you think this is wrong? am I doing the wrong thing?"

"Do you love him?" Sophie asked, already knowing your answer. Nodding your head, you sighed, speaking up as you realized she couldn't see you "Yes.." You breathed out "I love him more than anything in the world" A rush of relief flushed through you after saying the words for the first time, despite being so close to doing so many times, but you couldn't... not when he was in 'love' with her. "Well, there's your answer" Sophie laughed "You love him... and we all know that Julie is not the right girl for him, I mean the only thing she's see's when she looks at him is dollar signs" You couldn't help but roll your eyes at that fact! Ever since you met Julie, you knew she and her family only had one intention... marry Lewis and take his last name in hopes that at one point if the marriage turns sour & they can take half of his inheritance. But Lewis was too blinded in her beauty to see! You had tried to tell him, many times, but each time he would discard you... & not wanting to ruin your friendship, you let him!

"I'm really doing this Soph..." You breathed out, breath shaky as your hands hovered over the car handle "I'm really crashing a wedding!" Just saying the words out loud sounded crazy, you never thought you'd be girl to ruin someone's big day but you just couldn't let this happen... he didn't deserve it! "Hell yeah you are!" Sophie cheered, trying her best to give you some sort of boost despite being miles a way "So let me go, and go get your man! What are you waiting for!" Laughing, you quickly said goodbye, hanging up as you finally left the car. The wind hit you straight a way, hair blowing everywhere as it felt like it was trying to push you back in the car... but nothing could stop you, you wouldn't let it!

Your body froze for a second as you tried your best to think of the best way to do this. You didn't want to cause a scene, bring attention to yourself as you stood in front of all their friends and family. So you opted for the second option... finding him before the ceremony! Sneaking in the back door, you headed to the guest suits where you knew from an inside friend that the bride and groom were getting ready there. You were still a little heartbroken that you weren't invited, you and Lewis had been best friends since the day you were born, you always talked about being there for each other. But you knew it wasn't his choice... it was Julie's! She wasn't blind, or stupid, she knew you loved him. Like truly loved him for him, not just for his money! So she did everything in her power to keep you away from him, including asking him to not invite you, claiming that the ceremony was only for important people in their relationship & she didn't feel comfortable with you there! In broke Lewis to tell you, he wanted to stick up for you, to fight for you... but he couldn't!

Just as you were about to head to the groom's suit, that pitchy voice caught your attention. Spinning on your heel you headed to where the noise was coming from, looking through the crack of the door to reveal Julie yelling at one of her bridesmaids "Are you serious right now!" She screeched, throwing her hands in the air as she shuffled in her large pastry-shaped gown "I get married in 10 minutes and you're dressed like that... we had a dress code for god's sake! & where's my god damn veil!" Shaking your head, you shook with anger, wanting to go in there and stick up for her poor friend. But you didn't have the time and didn't want to miss any of the short amounts that you had. So you left it, going back to where the grooms suite was.#

Your hand hovered over the door to knock, just as it opened. But instead of revealing Lewis, it revealed his best man... Eddie. His eyes grew wide as you stood there nervously, but he immediately threw his arms around you "Omg (y/n)..." He whispered, knowing Julie and her family was only down the corridor and didn’t want to make your presence known “what are you doing here?” Deep down he knew why you where here, he saw how you looked at his best friend & he saw the way Lewis looked at you. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t been rooting for the two of you since he had met you!

Your hands shook as you tried to look behind him “I need to speak to Lewis..” your voice came out in a rush as Eddie’s eyes grew wide with panic “I know I shouldn’t be here & Julie will kill me if she sees me but I need to see him... before it’s to late”

“Oh (y/n)..” Eddie sighed, placing his hand on your shoulder for comfort “he’s already headed down... you’ve just missed him” your heart dropped as he said the words you had been dreaded, tears slowly forming in your eyes “I’m too late..” you whispered “I’ve lost him.”

“Not necessarily.” Eddie smirked, a crazy idea popping into his head “you could always speak out!” Your eyes instantly popped out of your head as he brought back the idea you had been trying to avoid. Shaking your head you groaned “I can’t do that Ed... Lewis will hate me for embarrassing him!”

“Oh believe me, he won’t hate you..” Eddie laughed, causing you to look at him confused “he loves you, you goof! He’s just afraid to admit it... funny you both have that in common!”

“He loves me..” you whispered, that being the only thing you took notice in his words “b-but W-why did he propose to Julie t-then?..” you stuttered, a soft chuckle of sympathy came out of Eddie as he wrapped his arm round you “he wanted a way to get over you & julies the safe option... let’s be honest she was gagging for that ring” he joked, causing you to stifle a laughter “but he doesn’t want it really... he wants you! I tried to tell him before you yell at me, he just didn’t think you’d feel the same...”

“Is he mad?” You gasped, shocked at this sudden confession that the man you had been in love with for years has loved you back “I’ve loved him for years... I thought he wouldn’t feel the same back!”

Leaning down he whispered in your ear “go tell him that...” giving you one last hug before heading off down the stairs to see his best friend, not before shouting a quick “speak out!”

Following him quietly down the stairs, your body froze as you seen him at the end of the aisle. Giving his family quick greetings as he played with his watch nervously. You wished for a second that you were the one in a white gown, standing out the door to walk down to him, saying the words that’ll you stay with forever... but instead you were waiting to crash it! Hearing Julie coming down the stairs you quickly hid behind the curtain watching from afar as he shook hands with Eddie... You couldn't tell what they where talking about but whatever it was, it seemed serious!

"You ready bro?" Eddie smiled, clapping their hands together as he pulled him into a brotherly hug. He wanted to say yes... he wanted to be the man that was crying at the end of the aisle... he wanted to be able to say that this was what he wanted, but he'd be lying! "I think so..." Lewis sighed, his shaking hands trying to fix his tie "Have you seen her?"

Nodding his head enthusiastically, Eddie smiled "I have, (y/n) looks beautiful man!"

"(y/n)?" Lewis questioned, but it wasn't answered in time, as the doors flew open revealing Julia's bridesmaids all dressed in pastel, and there at the end was Julie walking arm in arm with her dad. Lewis tried to stay concentrated on his bride-to-be in front of him, he even tried to squeeze out a tear or two, something that Julie said he better do... but he couldn't. The minute anyone says your name it puts him in a trance, you being the only person he could see, hear, want to touch- and thanks to his best friend's words it was happening on his wedding day!

You watched on in fear as he took her hand in his, lifting up the veil as placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. "Y-you look go-gorgeous.." Lewis stuttered, your name almost slipping out of his mouth. He would be lying if he said he wished it wasn't you right now, to be in his arms in front of all your families. You would definitely be more of a small wedding girl- something he had grown to admire you about. You wouldn't want everyone in dress codes or fancy expensive décor lying around everywhere... you'd just want him! But he had left it too late...

Tears bloomed in your eyes as the ceremony went on, you found one little hidden seat at the back to hide in as you wanted for the queue. Eddie found you straight away, giving you a little knowing smile and a thumbs up for encouragement. Your mind swirled with every possibility of what could happen... him leaving with you, him hating you for the rest of your life, even the possibility of Julie's mother attacking you for ruining her little girls' day! But you couldn't think any longer as the preacher spoke loud and clear...

"Speak now or forever hold your peace"

Freezing in your seat, your hands shook. Contemplating where to stand or not as both of them looked around the room... Eddie turned to look at you mouthing a 'please' as panic filled you. Is this really what I want? You thought Is this what he deserves? The preacher was just about to move on, when you swore you seen disappointment in Lewis's face... like he was wanting someone to object.

Feeling a sudden rush of confidence, you rose from your seat. Taking a deep breath as your unexpected movement caused everyone's eyes to turn to you... but all you could do was look at Lewis. Any sign of confidence you had was now gone as everyone looked at you in horrifying. You're breathe hitched as you opened your mouth to speak, but no words could come out... only the tears in your eyes. His heart broke as he watched you panic, wanting nothing more than to run up to you and swoop you up, letting you know that it was okay. But with Julie's death grip on his arm he couldn't do anything but say your name "(y/n)…"

Tears rolled down your face as you shook your head, immediately regretting everything "I'm sorry..." You whispered, before excusing yourself from the room and running straight out the chapel doors. Finding yourself on a little bench, you sobbed into your hands... look on everyone's faces and the surprise on his face running through your mind, images you think you'd never be able to forget. What made matters worst was you were still there... outside the church, he was probably saying his vows in right now!

"What did I just do?" You sobbed, closing your eyes as you looked straight ahead to darkness "What have I just done?"

"You saved me..." A voice spoke from behind you, causing your head to whip to the side, revealing an out-of-breath Lewis "You saved me (y/n)" Standing up from the bench, you walked over to him tears still streaming down your face "I am so sorry Lewis, I didn't mean to do that... to embarrass you! I don't know what I was thinking, I am so sorry..." "You were thinking with your heart!" Lewis smiled, arms opening for you to walk into, which you happily accepted "Which is something I should have done a long time ago..."

"What do you mean?" You sniffled against his chest.

"I love you (y/n), I always have... I always will!" He smiled, looking at you with guilt "If anyone should be sorry it's me... I was the one who made you crash a wedding, just because I was to much of a coward to admit to my best friend that I'm madly in love with her."

Looking up at him at just the right time, his lips brushed yours, a mirroring smile appearing on both of your lips as you desperately expressed the love you should of told each other years ago. Pulling away he leaned his head on yours "Run away with me?" He breathed out, his warm breathe causing a deeper blush to rise in your cheeks.

"But what about Julie...?" You questioned, still panicking about his wedding despite being the one to crash it just minutes ago "What about the wedding?"

"I think it's a bit too late for that now..." Lewis chuckled "And besides I didn't say a single vow..." Giggling, you placed your lips back on his mumbling a quiet yes on his lips... "Yes Lewis, I'll run with you..."

Wrapping his arms around you, he lifted you in the air swirling you around before sliding you back down against his chest. Nothing but the sound of your laughter could be heard as you both forgot about the chapel-filled people inside & just focused on each other.

"I love you sir Lewis..." You smiled, pecking his cheek.

"I love you miss wedding crasher..." Lewis chuckled, placing his lips back on yours before reality hit him "But I do need to go back in there and get my bag..." He mumbled against your lips, causing you to groan playfully "Really? What type of runaway partner are you?"

"Well in my defence baby..." He mumbled, leaning down to whisper in your ear "Although I really hoped, I didn't think you'd be the type of girl to barge a wedding.... I couldn't really prepare could I..."

Laughing, you shoved him away indicating him to go back inside "Just go get your bag Lew so we can go before her mum kills me..." Kissing your cheek he smiled, "Go get the car ready... I'll meet you at the back door..." Nodding your head you let him go, smiling as he quickly jogged back to the doors ready for his final mission. But surprising you again, he spun back a round, once again pulling you into a breath taking kiss... "What was that for?" You giggled, as he pulled away with a big goofy smile on his face..

"Nothing" He smiled, moving a lose strand of hair out of your eyes "I'm just happy you where around when they said speak now..."

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton x reader #formula 1 #Mercedes #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 oneshot #lewis hamilton book #lewis hamilton one shot #Lewis hamilton blurb

[darkcrowprincess]

Lunter: Been beat up and battered 'round

Been sent up, and I've been shot down

You're the best thing that I've ever found

Handle me with care

@mokstagger another lunter scene from my twilight au. Hope you don't mind.

*December 18, 1988*

'Been beat up and battered 'round

Been sent up, and I've been shot down

You're the best thing that I've ever found

Handle me with care'

The song was playing when they entered the diner. The old diner was the first place they could stop for rest. They had been running on vampire speed for miles and miles, and they needed a place they can stop with millions of different sents. Different sents ment it was harder for Kikimora to track them.

Plus even if human food wouldn't make them feel full without blood mixed in, that didn't mean they still couldn't enjoy the taste and still get the mental comfort that food brought. So Hunter followed the hostess to a booth, holding his companions trembling small hand protectively in his, moving her along with him.

Luzita Noceda was alarmingly quiet by his side. Head down to hide her new red eyes with her hood. She was drowning in an ovesize black hoodie. She is so tiny that it was hard to imagine anyone that small being able to kill anyone with Vampire abilities. Let alone be a vampire at all. But she is. She is a vampire. Belos had certainly seen to that, including Luzita's older sister and mother.

As they sat in their booth to wait for the waitress to come bring their food, all Hunter could do was stare at her. Worrying and protective. His mind flashes back to how he found her 48 hours ago. Surrounded by blood and human bodies. Everywhere the eye could see like broken dolls. Luzita in the middle of it all in a fetal postion crying in despair. Her tears mixing with the dark stains of blood on her lips. Belos having starved her of any possibility of animal blood for weeks, till she snapped out of hunger and desperation. Till she finally fed on humans. As a newborn vampire, the results are deadly. Belos had forced her to make her first kill. She didn't want to hurt anyone. Stubborn to a fault, she refused to feed on humans. Belos took that option away from her, locking her away in a room with frighten humans. In that room seeing how broken she was, her wails echoing. He couldn't stand to see her like this ever again. So he and Darius made a plan. He freed her. He saved her. And now he had to get her back to her family. Where Darius had hidden them.

"Why are you doing this?" Luzita whispers, her eyes are dull, as if she's not fully there. Yet they're blood red. Newborn blood red eyes. Hunter stares at her. Hearing her question echo in his head. He thinks about how to phrase his answer. With a low voice he knows she can hear, " Miss, I'm not a good person. I don't remember much from my human life during the 1860s, but what I do remember, looking back on it. I wasn't good than either. My uncle wanted me to join a war that wanted to continue slavery. I did it because I wanted to please him as I was rasied to, plain and simple."

Luzita's eyes go wide at this, "Your were a confederate soldier!" Luzita whispers horrified. Hunter accepts her rightfully given horror and nods. "Yes I was, and while I was fighting in that war I met a man named Darius Deamonne. He was a vampire who knew my birth father. He didn't like me fighting in that war for obvious reasons, and knew my father wouldn't have either. Especially if I was doing it for my Uncle Belos, who used the war as a cover to feed and turn people so they were forced to join his coven." Luzita flinches at this.

The waitress finally comes with their meals and drinks, leaving them quickly after. Hunter to have something to do with his hands stirs suger into his tea. He continues, not breaking eye content with her, "Unbeknownst to me both my father and my uncle were vampires from the 1600s. My father sick of feeding on innocent humans(especially after falling in love with one) leaves my uncles, and tries to feed on animals.

That way of life is hard and difficult, but he manages it, moslty for my birth mother's sake. Who is soon pregnant with me. For many years they-we were happy." At this, Hunter takes something out of his jacket pocket and hands it to Luzita. It's a old pocket watch. Noting how old it is, she opens it up with a delicate touch. Inside next to the ticking clocks is an very old photo. A man who looks like Hunter, a beautiful woman, and a young toddler Hunter smiling a gap tooth smile. The little family looks happy.

Luzita looks back up at Hunter, unsure of how to ask. Hunter tells her without a question needed, " As you can probably guess, my uncle killed them, took me and rasied me. Looking back on it now, I think my uncle was-is hopping I could be my fathers replacement. Especially considering I'm a half-human half-vampire." Luzita's eyes widen at this, but says nothing wanting Hunter to continue his story. "I know what it's like to be hurt by that man. I know the hurt he can cause to other people, I've seen it.

Yet like a coward I went back to him because I felt like, were else could I go honestly? If I left he would just hunt both me and Darius down and kill us. So I stayed. I hurt and killed people for him, became his good little vampie soldier, fed on humans, did many appalling things in his name. For century it was like that. Than something changed."

Luzita eyes become alive again, rapt with interest, "What changed?"

"You." Hunter says simple.

"Me?" Luzita says in disbelief.

"Yes you. I heard you when you first came to the estate. A human looking for her missing mother and sister, trusting someone like my uncle for help. Heard what my uncle did to you, what he made you do. What he's planning to use you for, and I just I couldn't let him do what he did to me to someone else."

Hunter gulps wetly, unfallen tears in his eyes, "Plus I didn't like the lecherous way he looks at you, I've seen that look before." The unvoiced implications of that sends a dark shiver through Luzita. Hunter avoids her eyes, going back to his tea, adding more suger. Mindlessly stirring. He speaks with a strong, protective voice.

"I just, I want to protect something from him for once. So I promise Miss Luzita Noceda, I'll keep you from his clutches. I'll reunite you with your family. I'll keep you safe, I swear it."

A small petite hand hand lays over Hunter's, he looks up into her face shocked by her touch. However he doesn't move away. Her hand feels nice on top of his. She gives him a soft look. Her tiny smile is the first he's ever seen of her. It's like a tiny light in darkness.

"You can call me Luz."

"What?" Hunter says dazzled by her smile.

"My name, I like being called Luz, if your going to protect me Mr Wittebane, that is what I'd like my protector to call me."

Hunter smiles and simply replies back, his old Gravesfield accent shinning through, "My apologies Miss Luz Noceda." He than kisses her hand, a Gravesfield gentleman through and through.

#my writing #twilight au #the owl house #lunter #huntceda #luz x hunter #goldenlight #goldenluz #hunter x luz

[spcrklings]

( maia reficco, demi woman, she/they ) — 🎬 just announced, henrietta ' henrie ' castillo is casted as haley james barrera in upcoming one tree hill reboot. the twenty2 year old is trending as people are debating if the midnight ice coffees, bomber jackets littered with patches, living on letterboxd, food network in the background as they replicate a dish, lavender & vanilla scented candles, biting roughly into your cheek to stifle a laughter that they are known for is enough to make them as good as original. a quick google search shows that their fans call them intuitive, but internet trolls think they’re more dogmatic. i guess their newest interview for variety where they talk about the fact that she learned to juggle at age 7 will let people to know them better.

lil stats !

full name: henrietta castillo. nicknames: henrie. gender: demi woman. pronouns:  she/they. orientation: bisexual / biromantic. parents: javier castillo ( father ) & carolina castillo ( mother) siblings: alexander castillo ( older brother ) traits: intuitive, stubborn, dogmatic & observant. xtra aesthetics: ring pops on each finger, rehearsing lines in the shower, falling asleep everywhere and anywhere comfy, instagram cat mom, flower behind an ear. 

lil bio !

maybe it was fate, the road to their career. both parents were very removed from the whole hollywood scene, being florists and horticulturalists in the los angeles area. but the thing they understood deeply was passion.

henrietta's parents were a little older when she was born, ten years after her brother. when she was five years old, alexander was off to some basketball sleep away camp over the summer that he'd been dreaming of since he was a little boy. with him gone, there wasn't anyone around to watch little henrie. their mother had done a quick google search for day camps in the area and she stumbled upon a theater camp

after the first day henrie was literally IN LOVE. from that moment forward she begged her parents to let them go to a performing arts school. dreaming of the various roles she could potentially play in the future, stories she'd be able to portray. finally they caved when henrie was starting middle school.

if she wasn't at school or doing homework she was auditioning or rehearsing any sort of scene to develop her craft. plenty of background acting gigs here in there, networking, trying to intern at any capacity on set to get experience.

fame was an unfortunate side affect. henrie wanted to tell stories, explore characters, create art, not have so many eyes on her and her every move. if she could act in complex projects without the extras that came in tow. promotion and press was difficult, never feeling truly comfortable.

they're usually the quieter voice in a joint interview, a little on the shy/flustered side of things. living a quieter life, not always at events that she doesn't have to, being unintentionally vague and borderline mysterious even in the information revealed about themself ( in a charming and intriguing way perhaps ? ).

this is pretty different from how henrie interacts interpersonally. she's more outgoing and comfortable as herself when the camera is not on her. they're still on the quieter side of the spectrum, but definitely more lively and open with sharing things about themself.

ALSO ! lil fun fact she has two cats, named lucy ( orange tabby ) & xena ( tortie )

wcs !

almost pr relationship - there were talks & almost an implementation of a pr relationship w these two but henrie DEFINITELY freaked out over the possible attention it would bring and their team finally backed out

flirtationship - it's mostly platonic, but borders on becoming something more. will it ? will it be nothing but harmless ? we can figure that out<3

roomies - must love cats

besties - also must love cats dm,mgfdkj

anything else imsorry my brain is off rn

#2000s.intro #<3<3<3<3