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modern-day-bard · 4 months

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Worth The Feeling

Content Warning: 18+ This series contains explicit smut, intimidation, and an age gap relationship. Minors, do not interact.

Chapter 22

Apparently Barb had been right. Neither Dwayne nor Lloyd seemed to care that I had been seeing Javi. Not that Lloyd mentioned anything, and truthfully I wasn't even sure if he knew. I leave work that day just the same as any other day. Besides the nagging feeling that this isn't over, and my sad suspicion over why I still haven't seen or heard from Javi, everything else was normal. Only two people asked me about my fainting today, too. No weird looks this time either. I had been mostly behind the scenes today, so I didn't see Lana, but I texted her to ask if she had heard anything and she hadn't. Everyone truly was busy at work. Maybe it was my average, L.A.-free upbringing, but I expected a much larger scandal my first day back.

I take a shower first thing upon arriving home. L.A. was nothing compared to the Italian heat, but I could still use a bit of a clean. Plus, it would distract me from the fact that I still have not heard from Javi. Amidst everything, I'm still hurt by that fact. Barb and Dwayne admitted that his behavior showed some sort of interest, but I like to think I know his character better than them. Meaning, maybe he would react like that to almost anyone fainting. I decide to double-shampoo my hair to avoid diving too deeply into that thought. After I dry off, a put on some sleep shorts and a plain white t-shirt before putting on the kettle to make some tea. I'm not much of a chef, but I feel like I should really try to cook tonight in an additional effort to keep my mind off things. Especially now that I know I can still afford groceries. I've been staring at my near-bare refrigerator for about thirty seconds when my phone lights up. I nearly drop a jar of pickles when I see who it's from.

Javi: Can we talk?

My heart practically ricochets out of my chest. Will I look desperate if I reply right away? Has he been looking for a way out of...whatever this is? Or maybe he's upset that he had to have multiple conversations with Dwayne, one being with their PR manager. My kettle screams from the stove, and I jump almost high enough to land straight on my countertop. I quickly move to set it aside. I put a tea bag into a mug, taking a deep breath as I pour the steaming water in. I figure that a cup of tea's worth of time in between my response is enough. Or it's at least all I can stand. As soon as the kettle is set back on the stove, I race to reply.

I type out of a few options, but err on the side of caution.

Me: Of course. Should I call you?

Javi types for a minute or so before the bubbles disappear. I wonder if it's possible for me to hold my breath for a solid two minutes without fainting again.

Finally, 90 agonizing-seconds later, he replies.

Javi: Would it be alright if we spoke in person?

Me: I think that would be best. Do you want to meet in your trailer tomorrow?

Javi: Actually, I'm around the corner of your place. I felt like going for a drive. There's no pressure for you to let me in. But would it be okay if I came to see you now?

Forget holding my breath, I was now choking on it. But even though my nervous system hummed with anxiety, it was also mixed with anticipation. So much so that I forego the reality that Javi would be seeing my post-nervous breakdown studio apartment for the first time and respond with:

Me: Let me know when you're here.

I don't bother rushing for a hair dryer or a change of clothes. Partially because there's no way I would have the time, but also because he's already seen me like this. Granted it was under far better circumstances. I did take the chance to pick up a few pieces of laundry off the floor, though. I just set them in the basket when my doorbell rang. I buzzed him in without using the speaker, and less than a minute later there was a soft knock at my door. I took another, cleansing breath before I opened it.

It was as though sunlight itself was on my doorstep.

If sunlight came dressed in dark jeans and a black hoodie. His hair had been lightened slightly by the Italian sun, something I hadn't noticed until contrasted with L.A. after dark, and his deep brown eyes were shining. And the romantic, seeking part of me thought they shined a little brighter when I looked at him. But in the split second before either of us spoke, I recognize the worry there. Worry masked as almost deep concentration. Then his lips part, and it looks as though he is...relieved, even though he still holds worry around the corners of his eyes.

"Ava," He sounds breathless. I wait for him to say something else, but nothing comes.

"Hi," I almost whisper. "Would you like to come in?"

"Are you sure? We can always speak tomorrow, but I think production is trying to keep us separate for now. Otherwise I wouldn't be dropping by like this–"

"Javi, it's fine. Come in, please." I open the door wider, gesturing for him to walk through. He does, leaving a glorious path of his smell in his wake. I close my eyes only for a moment while his back is still turned to me, trying to soak it in as much as possible.

Javi takes in all 700-square-feet of my place, shoving his hands in his pockets. I've never seen him look so out of place.

"Take a seat," I say, not needing to point out that my lone sofa was the only option. "Do you want some tea? I just poured myself a cup."

"No, no. Thank you."

So he won't be staying long, then. I grab my mug anyway before joining him on the couch. My body yearns to sit as close to him as possible, but I use the tea as an excuse to sit on the end so I can place it on the side table.

Once I place my mug down, there is nowhere else to go. Nothing else to do except look at him with that same, borderline tortured expression on.

"Are you...okay?" I ask slowly.

That relieved expression comes back, but only for a moment. "Yes, I'm fine. Ava, I–" His voice breaks, and he rubs his hands up and down his thighs. "I was so worried about you."

My heart just about shatters. I bring my knees up to my chest, picking at an invisible strand on the couch. "I wanted to reach out to you, but when you didn't check in I thought...I don't know. I knew you'd be busy with meetings and the flight home–"

"How was the flight home?"

I look at him now, and his gaze is so sincere that I want to cry. "It was okay, actually. The flight home is usually a bit easier. Honestly I was mostly focused on the fact that I either stained your reputation or possibly lost my job. Or both. Suddenly the flight didn't seem so bad." I chuckle darkly. Javi reaches for the hand resting on my knee, hesitantly. I give it to him as if we've done this a hundred times.

"I'm glad. I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"Don't be sorry for that. I'm so sorry I fainted, that's only happened once before and it made a tense conversation so much worse."

"If I can't apologize for not being on the flight, you definitely can't apologize for fainting." Javi lets out a small chuckle now, and I follow suit.

"Ava," he says, stroking my hand, "I want to explain myself and what happened afterwards. But first..." His hand moves up my arm, giving it a gentle tug. "Can you come here, please?" His voice is gravel, and all I can do is nod, allowing him to pull up against his side. His free hand moves to rest on the side of my face, tucking a strand of damp hair behind my ear. Javi rests his forehead against mine before placing a featherlight kiss to my lips, almost making my knees press together. Before I can demand more, he pulls back and leaves the same light kiss on my nose, and then my forehead. He strokes my face again, as if confirming that I'm not a mirage.

"You're really alright?" He whispers.

"Yes," I breathe, "Heat exhaustion doesn't last that long."

"I'm glad, but I also mean what happened with Blake."

I sit back a little so I can assess his demeanor. "I wouldn't do that to you. I'm not saying you and I had the 'exclusive' conversation, but I'm not that type of person."

Javi looks wounded. "Ava, I mean are you okay after what happened with him? I wanted to kill him where he stood when he said those things about you."

"Oh," I really hadn't thought about the night he actually showed up to the room. "I was shaken up at the time. Nothing happened besides him grabbing my waist. Luckily Lana was in the room, and she came out of the bathroom right as he was trying...whatever he was trying to do. But I'm okay."

Javi's face was hard as stone. It was a stiff contrast between the gentle patterns his fingers were making on my knee. "Are you going to report him to HR?"

I pause, knowing that I made that decision back in Italy, but also unsure of how Javi might take it.

"No. I already talked it through with Lana that night. He's a creep for sure but...I just don't think it's what I want to do. I'm just glad he was only with us on location."

"For his sake, I'm glad as well." I'm not sure if he meant me to hear that or not.

His icy gaze falls to the floor.

"You know, Dwayne asked me today if I was going to press charges against either one of you. He said you took credit for the full affair. Nothing at work is changing, not even the promotion." I can't help the suspicion in my tone. It was too good to be true, and I knew it since I walked out of the meeting this morning. His gaze doesn't falter as he remains focused on the floor.

"Javi," I gently stroke his arm, trying to ease his tension. "What does that mean? Why would I want to press charges against you?"

He takes a deep breath, glancing into my eyes for a moment before focusing his attention to my hand resting on his arm. "At the cast dinner, the same night Blake came to your room, our PR manager, Tom, was buttering me up about Norwick's marketing plans. The company is pushing for romance rumors between Emma and me to spark interest for the film."

I feel a sharp pain in my gut at the notion, but I fear that any sign of hesitancy will keep him from speaking altogether, so I ignore it.

"Tom was encouraging me to actually get close to her. I've heard this sort of thing before. It was a simple, yet heavy, suggestion at the dinner. But after what happened on the beach with Blake and then your accident..."

My hand stills on his skin, too gripped by what he's saying to continue my previous efforts of easing the tension.

"Ava, I was so worried." His voice cracks just a smidge, "That fucking asshole was so busy trying to lie about your integrity that neither him or Dwayne noticed you were stumbling. You went pale, and you weren't responding to me. And it's my fault. We could have written this entire thing off and Blake would've been seen as a liar if it weren't for my reaction. No one moved fast enough. They weren't calling for a medic, you weren't waking up. I carried you up the beach to the top of the hill and the medic finally met us there. They took you away on one of the carts and I wanted to be with you so badly. I don't want you ever to think that I planned on letting you be alone this entire time, or not reaching out to you. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry you woke up alone and I'm sorry for my reaction, I just–I was so worried." Javi's brows are drawn together as tight as I've ever seen them and he's looking at me as if I hold all the answers to some invisible problem. I move my hand from his arm to cup his face, dragging my thumb down his cheek. I'm about to tell him that there is nothing to forgive him for, that I really wasn't harmed by any of it, but he continues.

"Dwayne at that point was convinced of our relationship. Thankfully Blake wasn't quick witted enough to add fuel to the fire. He didn't pretend to be concerned and he didn't insinuate that this meant you and I were together. But he didn't have to. I could see it as soon as I walked back down to the shore and saw Dwayne. I tried to act normal when I returned, especially once Barb texted me that you woke up, but it didn't matter. Dwayne said he would set up a meeting with me directly after we finished the shoot for that day. When I arrived, it was just Dwayne and Tom. I thought it was a good sign until Tom spoke. He told me what a PR nightmare this could be, me being involved with a younger woman. That the press would spin it so I would look as though I took advantage of you. It would damage both of our reputations. That's when Dwayne asked about the nature of our relationship. I said you and I got along very well and that I had feelings for you though I hadn't pushed them and I didn't know where you stood. I didn't deny that we had spent personal time together."

Javi again glances at me, as though checking if this is the part that will make me upset. I give a nod of encouragement.

He sighs before continuing. "Dwayne confessed that Blake has had complaints in the past, mostly about being too emotional to work with, but there were some blind items about him being inappropriate on set." That explains why Dwayne was quick to believe I hadn't been involved with him. "But he said that he also doesn't trust him not to leak some blown out of proportion, 'inside scoop,' about the whole thing. Frankly, Dwayne was concerned that anyone who saw my reaction to your fainting might feel that they have insider information. That's when Tom chimed in with the perfect solution," I can tell by his tone, doused in sarcasm, that it is far from perfect.

"Tom said that the PR team can find other ways to handle Blake, and as for the rest of the possible leaks...He said no one would remember a thing if they see me with Emma. Unfortunately Blake's ridiculous allegations against you fit right into production's plans to market the movie. They want to sell some whirlwind romance between Emma and me, especially since I haven't been seen with anyone publicly."

Javi lets the words hang there, allowing me to process. My stomach is in knots, and I'm still lost.

"So what does that mean for...us?" I ask quietly.

That pained expression is back. "I made them promise that they would stop any scandals against you before they happen, just in case there is a leak from anyone on set. In exchange, I agreed to let them sell the idea of Emma and me. They want us to be affectionate these next two weeks, and they're going to take some fake leaked photos of it. I was consulting with Jonah before and after my meeting with Dwayne and Tom, and he asked me not to contact you until we had reached an agreement. Once we had, it was time to fly back home and Jonah said I shouldn't speak with you until you already spoke with Dwayne. I wasn't actually sure if that was today...I just figured he'd ask to meet with you first thing and I...I couldn't wait any longer. I'm sorry."

He again allows me a moment to process it all. It hurts that Emma and him will be getting closer, even if it's just for show. But it also explains why I still have a job. True to what Barb had said, production didn't really care if we were together. However, they did care if it could reflect poorly on the project. In fairness to them, I understood it. But I was a far ways away from feeling okay about it.

Javi is just watching my face, waiting for my response. Despite the pain in my chest at the thought of him holding Emma, he was here now. His eyes full of concern, his hand still resting on my leg. Both our sides pressed up together.

Hesitantly, I cup his face once more. His eyelids flutter closed, almost as if it's out of relief. I sit up on my knees a little, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips. Javi sighs, moving the hand on my leg up a little higher, and his free hand to rest on my back, pulling me in closer.

I pull back so our foreheads are pressed together. "You don't need to be sorry, Javi."

His hand moves in soft circles on my back. "If only you knew how badly I wanted to be with you...how badly I wanted to react when Blake said those things—"

"Shh," I run my hand up his chest before resting it on the side of his neck. "I don't want to think about him. Or Emma...I'm not going to deny that part is incredibly irritating." I chuckle lightly, hoping to hide how jealous that makes me feel.

Javi pulls back a little further so he can look directly into my eyes. "I want to be with you, Ava. In every way that matters, I'm with you. I won't be with her like this," He presses another gentle kiss to my lips, "Or like this," his soft lips graze my jaw. "In fact," He kisses just below my ear, whispering now, "I'll be thinking about you the entire time, and how I'd rather be doing this instead," he moves his lips to my neck, open-mouthed and heady. I tilt my head to the side, allowing him more access. My eyes squeeze shut as he explores up and down my neck, my chest rising and falling at an increasingly rapid pace. When his teeth graze a particularly sensitive area near my collarbone, I can't take it any longer. I shift my weight and swing my leg around his torso so that I'm straddling him on the couch. Javi hums in approval, both his hands moving to my thighs. His warm fingers explore under the hem of my shorts, kneading my thighs and my backside appreciatively.

I surprise myself when I tug on the hair at the nape of his neck, angling him to look at me again and halting his barrage of kisses on my throat. I bend down to kiss him, several degrees rougher than before.

"I missed you," I whine against his lips. My hips buck forward instinctively, and I whine once again at the much-needed friction it provides.

He groans against my mouth in turn. "Missed you so much, baby," he kisses me again, teeth pulling on my bottom lip. "You had me worried sick." Javi's hands yank me forward by my thighs, grinding my core down on his lap again. I whimper, feeling how much he's grown underneath me. I feel as though my body has been taken over by pure desire, all shame left somewhere outside this apartment. I rock back and forth shamelessly, keeping Javi's lips locked on my as I hold onto the back of his neck. In the back of my mind, I know that I should do something else. Offer to go to the bed, kiss his neck back, say something he might want to hear. But I can't. I'm a panting mess. And all I can think about is wanting more of him, right now.

I move my hands from his neck to the hem of my shirt, slowing down my hip movements while I take a moment to pull it over my head.

"Christ," Javi hisses, taking in the sight of my hardened nipples. Not a second passes before he takes one of them in his mouth. His left hand moves to my free nipple, rolling and pinching it as his tongue swirls deliciously around the other. I gasp, tossing my head back and resume grinding back and forth on his now bulging lap. I want to take it out and lick him until he's as desperate as I feel right now, but the thought of stopping feels like it would leave me burning so badly that it would be painful. And judging by how his free hand is encouraging my hips, it doesn't seem like he wants me to stop.

It hasn't been long, but I feel a familiar build in my stomach.

"Javi, I'm," I hit the top of his jeans where he is delectably hard, "Ah, I'm going to...if we don't stop I'm gonna–"

Javi hums against my chest. "Get yourself off, sweetheart. The rest of your orgasms tonight will belong to me." He yanks me forward again, and I combust, my legs shaking on either side of him. My breathing stutters, and Javi keeps his steady pace against my chest, though he moves one of his hands to my thighs to coax me through. I slump against him, forcing his lips to leave my breasts. He draws soothing circles along my back as he chuckles.

"Catch your breath, baby. I'm far from done with you."

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x original characters #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro fluff #pedro pascal fluff #javi gutierrez fanfiction #javi gutierrez smut #javi gutierrez x you #javi gutierrez x reader

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somedaylazysomeday · 2 years

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Petition

Negan x fem!reader, non-apocalypse AU

Am I working on anything with Negan? No. Am I reading anything about Negan? No. Am I into the Walking Dead right now? No. But my brain decided this was the dream I needed last week, and wouldn't shut up until I wrote it down. Enjoy!

Rating: NC-17, Explicit, NSFW, Lemon, etc. Minors DNI!

Word Count: 2,600

Warnings: grumpy Negan, use of a sex toy, fingering, shower sex, creampie, accidental voyeurism (kinda).

Masterlist

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Negan blew out a breath, raking a hand through the thick darkness of his hair. He was frustrated and you could see why. The bathroom fan had been broken since you moved into the modest apartment, and this was the third maintenance worker who had tried to come fix the problem. None of them had even managed to diagnose what was actually wrong.

Still, you knew Negan's frustration wasn't directed at the maintenance worker. Too bad the other man didn't know that.

"Sorry, sir," he apologized, wearing his nerves on his young face. "I've checked everything I can think of. I've checked the notes from the last few people who tried to investigate your complaints, but I just-"

"Don't worry about it, honey," you interrupted kindly, patting the man on the shoulder. "You tried. We'll just keep trying to figure it out."

"Thank you, ma'am," the maintenance worker told you.

"What kind of bullshit is that?" Negan complained. "We're gonna get mold."

You shrugged. "We'll leave the door cracked open and they'll work to find a better long-term solution. It'll be okay, Negan."

He scowled, though it smoothed as you bent to drop a kiss on his head.

"Thank you for doing your best," you told the maintenance worker, sending him an encouraging smile. "I need to go shower and change, but let us know when someone is available to try again."

"I will, ma'am," the man said, standing up and nodding at you. "Have a nice night."

You squeezed Negan's shoulder as a silent reminder to be nice even after you were gone. It wasn't the poor maintenance worker's fault that the fan was broken. Besides, you and Negan were only there for as long as it took to close on the house you were buying. In the grand scheme of things, it didn't matter a bit whether the bathroom fan was broken. It didn't belong to you.

With that, you left the two men in the living room, retreating through the bedroom into the master bath. You had been half-joking, but you did think leaving the door open a crack would be enough to keep the worst of the steam from accumulating.

You heard the low rumble of Negan’s voice still speaking to the maintenance worker - unmuffled by the whirr of a bathroom fan - but you couldn’t pick out individual words. You didn’t really need to hear what he was saying, but you hoped Negan was being reasonably nice.

As soon as the water was warm, you stripped off the clothes you had worn for work and stepped into the spray. You had closed the sliding door behind you, but the sound of Negan wolf-whistling at you was clearly audible as he strode into the bathroom with a devilish grin on his handsome face.

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. You and Negan had been together longer than anyone would have expected, and any shyness you may have once felt had now disappeared entirely. He had more appreciation for your body than anyone you had ever met, and you couldn’t deny that it was an ego boost. For such a good-looking man to find you as attractive as you found him was inarguably flattering.

But you wouldn’t tell him that. Instead, you just lifted your chin in his direction, asking, “Is there something I can help you with?”

Negan’s grin only widened as he started to undress. “Matter of fact, there is, darlin’. I’ve got a big problem for you to take care of right here.”

You glanced down at his waist, but shook your head. “If only I wasn’t having this trouble with my bathroom fan, I would be able to see your problem. I might even have been able to fix it. What a shame…”

Your faux-mournful sigh was cut short as Negan opened the barely fogged glass door and joined you. “Let me give you a closer look.”

The laugh that spilled from you was one you couldn’t even begin to fight against, especially when Negan wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you toward him for a deep kiss.

When the two of you finally broke apart, he shook his head at you. “If you’re so bothered by the damn fan, why did you tell the guy not to worry about it?”

“He couldn’t have fixed it and I didn’t want to spend hours waiting while he tried,” you explained, running your hands across Negan’s chest and dropping a playful bite on the edge of his shoulder. “I wanted some time with you.”

“That so?” Negan asked, arching an eyebrow as he reached behind you. When he pulled his hand back, your favorite vibrator was held between his fingers. “Seems like you were pretty determined to take care of things all alone.”

“Oh, no, I keep that one in here,” you explained.

Negan managed to look simultaneously intrigued and horrified. “You mean that little twerp could have seen-?”

“Hey!” you chided. “Be nice to the poor man. Bad enough he had to deal with you when he was here. You don’t need to be rude even after he’s gone.”

“Mm-hmm,” Negan hummed skeptically. “Was that why you were being so nice to him? Calling him ‘honey’? Thanking him so sweetly? Telling him not to worry about anything? You’re lucky I’m such a confident man or I would think about being jealous.”

“You’re an extremely confident man,” you agreed. “Which is why I’m sure you wouldn’t have minded me being nice if it had gotten him to help us.”

You yelped and squirmed away from Negan’s pinching fingers as he caught the teasing note in your voice. “For future reference, I don’t want you flirting with other people, even if it is going to get us something we want.”

“Fine, fine,” you agreed, laughing. “Now, did you come in here just to talk?”

Negan’s eyes darkened and he pulled you into another kiss, this one interrupted only by a slight buzzing noise that made you wonder if the fan was trying to turn back on. Instead, when you pulled away, you found your vibrator whirring in Negan’s hand.

“What do you say to a little fun?”

“Hmm, an extra orgasm? Let me think about it…”

Your laugh turned into a groan as Negan ran the tip of the vibrator through your folds, zeroing in on your clit with the precision of long practice. You were already so close to him that wrapping your hands around his biceps for support seemed utterly natural.

Negan pressed the toy between your lips, aiming to swipe the angled tip directly over your most sensitive place. Your head fell forward with a groan as he succeeded.

“C’mon, doll,” Negan urged. You could feel his voice vibrating from where your forehead was planted against his chest. “Look at me. You know how much I love watching you fall apart for me.”

You obliged after a long moment of gathering your wits, tipping your head back until he could see your face.

“Perfect, perfect girl,” Negan complimented gently, running the vibrator through your lips over and over again. “Think you could come for me like this?”

“Y-yes,” you agreed breathily, catching the way he had started lingering over your clit at the top of every stroke. You just needed a little more stimulation and you would be there.

“Good. Do it.”

As he gave the command, Negan pressed the tip of the vibrator against your clit again and turned up the power. You shuddered in his arms, your body clenching over and over around nothing as you came in long waves.

When you finally pushed his hand away, your knees threatened to buckle, but Negan held you against him. With one hand pressed to the small of your back, Negan turned off the vibrator and replaced it on the small shelf where you normally kept it.

“Ready for another round yet, doll?”

You nodded and Negan’s hand crept between your legs, dipping into your core and drawing out fingertips soaked in the aftermath of your orgasm. He gave a groan of his own, darting his tongue out to lick at the proof that you were indeed ready for another round.

“Looks like you are,” Negan told you, hands gripping your waist. “Tastes like you are.”

“Good, because I-” You cut yourself off with a gasp as he settled you against the wall. Negan looked concerned and you hurried to assure him, “Cold tiles.”

With the concern gone, Negan looked positively impish. “Bet I could get you warmed up again, darlin’.”

“I’m count- counting on it,” you stuttered out, briefly losing your train of thought as Negan gripped his length and began teasing his head through your folds.

His only answer was a chuckle. As soon as he had lined himself up, he began pushing himself into you.

The stretch was familiar, a sense of homecoming in it, but as Negan worked himself deeper, he hit a section of you still tight from your recent orgasm. You gripped his shoulders, digging your nails into his tanned skin as you exclaimed his name.

Negan paused. “Everything okay?”

“I- You feel so… Keep going.”

Negan watched you for a beat, seemingly waiting for you to decide whether you really wanted him to continue. When you didn’t ask him to stop, he nodded and ducked his head to capture your lips with his own. At the same time, he pulled you sharply against him and thrust as deep into you as he could get.

You shouted into his mouth and Negan groaned. The time it took for your bodies to acclimate to your new position was spent locked in a battle for domination of your kiss. When Negan tweaked your nipple, you whimpered into his mouth and nipped at his lip in retaliation.

Negan pulled away with a gasp. “Gotta move, doll. You ready?”

“Yes,” you assured him, half-panting. “Fuck me, Negan.”

His eyes darkened and he took you at your word, thrusting into you so hard you knew there would be bruises. Who cared? The only one to see them would be Negan, and he would kiss each one better.

“Put your legs around my waist, darlin’,” Negan told you. “Need a little more.”

For the first time, you hesitated. “Are you sure I won’t be too heavy?”

“Guess we’ll find out,” he teased, slapping your thigh. “C’mon.”

You raised that leg and wrapped it around his hips, biting your lip at the way he moved inside of you with the motion. Before you could gather the nerve to jump up, Negan grabbed your supporting leg behind the knee and pulled it up to join the other.

You let out a breath - only a little shaky - and smiled. “I wasn’t sure that was going to work.”

“I knew we would be fine,” Negan bragged, grin turning sharp. “You should be worried what I’m gonna do to you now that you’re up here.”

“Bring it on,” you dared, squealing as he teasingly bit at your neck.

He planted your upper back against the cold tiles of the shower wall, hips pistoning between your thighs at a faster speed. The onslaught of sensation left you reeling for a few thrusts, but you joined in before long. At the apex of every stroke, you tightened your legs around him, urging him to thrust even harder.

The heat began to build in you again - slowly at first after your recent orgasm, but gaining speed. Small noises fell from your mouth, fucked from your depths as Negan worked to overwhelm you.

One of Negan’s hands disappeared from your ass, reappearing a moment later with the vibrator. He deposited the toy between you, watching from under hooded eyes as you caught it. “Use it, doll. I’m close, and I need to see you come again before I do.”

You tipped your head back, panting open-mouthed at the filthiness of the image he had created in your mind. With shaking fingers, you turned on the small vibrator and pressed it to your clit. Instantly, your inner muscles locked down, overwhelmed by the increased level of sensation.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Negan urged, low and insistant.

You whined, angling the vibrator until it lined up with your swollen lips. You pressed it between them, reeling from the way it teased at your clit, but slid it downward until the angled head teased at Negan’s shaft as he worked between your legs.

“Fuck,” he bit out, pressing the vibrator away from himself.

The motion settled it more firmly against you and you instantly began shuddering with the waves of your orgasm. The vibrator fell from your convulsing fingers, clattering loudly to the floor of the shower. Meanwhile, Negan snarled, burying his face in your chest as he managed a last few thrusts. He shoved himself deep as he released wave after wave of cum into the depths of you.

When he finally stilled in your arms, Negan let you slide down his body until you were standing, weak-kneed, on the shower floor. His softening length was pulled from you with the motion and you immediately began to drip with your combined pleasure.

You stood together, supported by each other as you caught your breath.

Eventually, you retrieved the still-buzzing vibrator and shut it off. As if cued by the cessation of the noise, a loud banging came from the wall beside the shower. “Knock it off, you motherfuckers!”

You stared at the wall, aghast, but Negan only thumped it soundly, calling, “If we were fucking your mother, it would have been louder!”

Semi-muffled curses came from the other side of the wall and Negan turned to look at you, the irritation on his face softened by the post-coital warmth in his expression. “Guess he didn’t appreciate the free show we put on.”

“We really need to get that fan fixed,” you insisted, face warm with embarrassment.

“Nah, fuck him,” Negan told you firmly. “Miserable piece of shit. Still,” he said, pulling you closer, “I can’t wait to get you in a house of our own.”

“It’ll be nice to have our own space,” you started, but Negan interrupted.

“We’re gonna christen every square inch of that place. I’m gonna fuck you on the shower floor, bend you over the kitchen counter, maybe even hit up that back deck if we can manage to without the neighbors seeing it…”

You shook your head, but Negan’s dirty suggestions were starting to wreak havoc on your sensitive body. With your internal muscles clenching at the thought of christening an entire house with Negan, certain things were happening faster than expected.

“Negan, please,” you pled, an edge of desperation in your voice. “We need to stop talking about this.”

“Wha- Why?” he asked, face dawning with understanding a moment later. His fingers dipped between your legs, eyebrows shooting upward when he found the mixture of cum and juices dripping down the insides of your thighs. Instead of stopping, though, he grinned at you. “Seems like someone’s ready for round two.”

“Fuck off!” your unpleasantly sharp-hearing neighbor insisted. “Quit it, you nymphomaniacs!”

Negan reached past you and shut off the water, scooping you up into his arms and nudging the shower door open a moment later. “C’mon, doll. If we play our cards right, the whole damn building’s gonna sign a petition to get our fan fixed.”

---

A/N - As I said, I'm not sure why I needed to post this, just that I needed to. Thanks for reading! You can find other works on my masterlist.

#the walking dead #fics #the walking dead fic #negan #twd negan #negan x reader #negan x you #reader insert #rating: nc17 #nc 17 #nc17 #spicy #smut #lemon #non apocalypse au #modern au #mind the warnings

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kit-williams · 5 months

Text

Kinda shameless self insert? With my ADHD ass it makes it hard to try to do reader/yn fics so here's a shameless self insert and yeah anything I write is gonna be ADHD coded. First time writing for this fandom OH BOY and first time writing in awhile.

Some idea backstory its the year 2020-2021 but "Goblin" is from 2023 and suddenly a bunch of fictional men are real. This short is set after all the fun plot set up of "why they believe you" and dealing with your clearance having ass that can just open up lovely bits of information for them. (yes I wanted to skip the hard part of setting up plot) Oh and her phone still seems to be connected to back home so there was a fun moment of accidentally showing Soap his Wiki page "Why am I K.I.A?"

Goblin is Female, is 30, is American, was married, and has ADHD I guess you could say unreliable narrator too?

This is super unbeta read so I guess enjoy my insane ramblings

They really shouldn't make obstacle courses so much fun. I think as I just swing back and forth on one of the ropes over the mud pit, something I would worry about later. I couldn't stop this one impulse it just looked too fun and nobody was using it. I've seen soldiers just do a casual run through of it so why not just have a little bit of fun. I sigh as I continue to swing back and forth and spin slightly. There wasn't much for me to do today but Price was adamant on making sure I was earning some wage, but hard to keep a coding Goblin happy.

Was weird to find out that there was a version of myself here so no sense in going to try and woo my alternate husband... I've accepted the fact that this is not a dream... but hey I get to try and see if the lotto numbers from back home work here and I can give myself a nice stack of cash, Nikolai is such a wonderful man and knowing my dumbass I won't notice a damn thing. That's been the hardest thing... going from sleeping in a bed with another person to being alone... no warm body next to yours with an arm wrapped tightly around you. Muttering for you to not go to work and just stay home... god and living on my own for literally the first time in my life is going as awful as I dreaded. My nuro ass can't thrive alone only survive... momma raised a survivor but I was so use to not being in survival mode with my husband that it stung to go back.

At least Soap or Johnny was nice enough to stop on by occasionally of course he'd make it worse at times... triggering me and making me all antsy. Thank Jesus for Simon or Ghost... I couldn't tell if he was still mad at me calling him Simon when I first saw him but now he just helps. I think he was the first person to pick up the fact that I could hardly live alone.

I had to be thankful that Gaz and Price were married and that I didn't have the four of them mother henning no I only got two though. I continued to swing back and forth without a care in the world. Though I started to get a care... I looked down at the mud in the pit. It was a good drop compared to the side of the mud hole. Just a swing to the side. I gripped the rope tightly as I would move my foot out and get unbalanced but I was so focused that when I heard Johnny say if I needed help it made me discombobulated.

Ghost rushed over after hearing a distinctive shriek and Soap howling with laughter. He rushed over in time to see Johnny's face get covered in mud as their tech Goblin crawled her way out of the mud. How she just smiled at him as he walked over and she just simply shrugged. "Yeah not my smartest lack of impulse as I'm now muddy for the rest of the day. But! I did figure out my coding issue! 'Scuse me gentlemen!" His hand shot out before she could get too far.

"Yer not going to get the computer room muddy." Ghost said as if it was obvious.

"But I don't have a change of clothes and I have an inspired moment." Goblin said but let out her screech as she was just picked up and taken over to the women's barracks.

"You need to shower hen. I'll get you something while your clothes are tossed into the wash."

"Fine. But I'm blaming you when I forget my eureka moment."

"Yeah I can live with that." Ghost said pushing her inside to the showers.

-----------

Goblin was the best way to describe her. She was small, loud, and weird. Not given the fact she was from a few years in the future and the fact that they all existed as video game characters but her quirks, her knowledge, and just the way she carried herself. Soap and her could feed off of each other till she crashed and that is when Ghost would have to intervene. She spoke less and less about her life back home... the lads she left behind as it seems that life continued on and she was still there.

She was giving up on the fact that this was a dream as well... and for the two of them she was opening up how painfully lonely she was. She could see her old life right there being lived by another version of herself. For Simon he knew for her it was akin to the trauma he went through... all of her nets and family and friends basically gone. Ghost could help her keep grounded and well Price offering her a job to have some cash for her to spend on hobbies helped. But more often than not she was at the base unwilling to go home alone where there was no one to soothe her mind.

Soap was eager to fill that void for her, perhaps it was misguided in the sense of he was thankful to her, but Ghost enjoyed the way they would just sit in silence and a few times she thanked him for just sitting in the same room as she played a game, drew, or whatever she did to stave off the pending breakdown. Though she joked that she was like that song Tubthumping she always got back up again. But Ghost was worried when she wouldn't bounce back.

#cod #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #OC #first fanfic in awhile #Sorry if this is a fever dream #But I decided to post a bit of my coping #I mentioned that my husband nearly died of pancreatitis #Yeah just my head wasn't in a good spot #Doubt I'll write the single mom stuff since he got better but I wanted to try my hand at this #cod x oc

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bearsinpotatosacks · 1 year

Text

Callie Bassett-Shen - Feather in the Wind

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Callie is exceedingly self-sufficient and doesn't realise that maybe accepting help isn't a bad thing.

Words: 2372

Goose awoke to the soft smell of cinnamon on the early spring day. He smiled, wondering what Carole had made for breakfast that smelt so damn good, only to turn over and find her sleeping soundly beside him.

Getting up and putting on his glasses, his bones creaking reminding him that was racing towards forty, he decided to figure out what was going on. No one else was awake. Rare silence floated around as he crept around.

Yet, when he entered the kitchen, there were clean dishes on the drying rack, dishes that weren't there the night before. He hummed and saw some ingredients for french toast left out on the side. Who had made that? And how had they done it quietly enough to not wake anyone?

Feeling slightly defeated, he went to return to bed, only to glance outside at the soft blue sky and see Callie Bassett-Shen pegging out laundry on their washing line. She was sharing a room with Natasha and the two were getting along well, especially considering how much Natasha was coming along since she arrived. Carole had told him about what had happened to her and he was horrified, he knew bad things happened to some kids in care but being faced with it was something else entirely.

Stepping out onto the porch, he called to her, "Morning."

She must have been in her own world, as upon his call, she jumped out of her skin. He walked onto the dew covered grass to help her with the last few items. A thin layer of moisture made his feet slippery, maybe he should've put some shoes on.

As he began placing socks on the line, her posture changed. Every now and then she'd give him a side eye, only to stop as soon as he met it with a smile.

"I can do this myself, you know," she eventually said.

"I know," he replied, then added. "We could've washed your clothes, you know, with everyone else's?"

She shrugged and placed the last t-shirt on the line. A slight breeze picked up, the clothes fluttered in it.

"I'm guessing you're the one who made the french toast?"

She nodded and went to get the washing basket and pegs. He beat her to it, giving her yet another smile even though he felt the bend in his spine. Just like the doctor said, his body was stiffening up more than a normal person's would with age. His accident still lingered in his body no matter how much work he put in to push past it.

"Yet again, we could've helped with that."

She opened the door for him, "I know, but I don't need help to do it, so why ask?"

"That's not the point of us helping,"

"Then what is?"

He paused, placing the basket down, then placing his hands on his hips.

"You'll figure it out." He said, then carried the basket to the utility and left her standing there puzzled in the light of the sun blinking through the blinds.

~~~~

The school run was always hectic but somehow today it was even more so. Bradley was rushing around getting his lunch together, despite Carole trying to get him to make it the night before. Natasha was already outside tapping her foot. Mickey ran around trying to find a toy, no figurine, he insisted on bringing to school to show Reuben.

And there, in the middle of it all, was Callie. She wasn't rushing everyone like Natasha or slowing everyone down like Bradley and Mickey. She was just sitting at the table giving everyone a slightly condescending look.

"Callie, right, where's your stuff, sweetie?" Carole said with her head in the fridge. "I can't see your sandwich in here, did you make it?"

"No, I made myself some noodles for my lunch,"

She kicked her backpack on the floor beside her. Carole peaked out from behind the fridge door.

"When did you do that?"

"This morning?"

Carole thought back to the morning. She’d woken up at six and it seemed like there was only her and Nick up. After her shower, and a lovely hour of free time before they woke up the kids, she hadn't heard anything from Callie. Unless she woke up even earlier, she had no idea when she would've had time to make her own lunch, let alone noodles.

"When?"

"When I got up?"

"And that was?" Carole tried not to look as slow as she felt.

"6:30, it didn’t take me long,"

Carole shut the fridge door as Mickey came racing down the stairs, finally ready. She hurried Callie along, still perplexed at how organised she was, as they headed out toward the minivan.

"Maybe next time I can help, if it doesn't take long," she said.

She just managed to get a glimpse of her confused look and mild shrug before rolling the door shut. They were now running late and had two schools to get to. If only she was as organised as Callie appeared to be.

~~~~

Goose finally had a moment to himself. All the kids were entertained. Carole was knitting in the living room, probably in less peace than he was right now, Bradley and Mickey were playing some video game and he knew they could get loud.

He was in the shed, which they'd converted into a makeshift pottery studio. After going to a class on a whim one day, he'd fallen in love with the craft. It was his new hobby despite him not being the best, Carole had called his stuff 'Wobblyware'. His body was getting stiffer and more painful as he aged, his injury from top gun still enacting its revenge, and he couldn’t run like he used to, so a new hobby was welcomed.

There was something about the slow movement, gently taking the time to craft something of his own. For a little while, he was granted his own space and took it gratefully.

Breaking this peace, Carole walked in in a flurry of anxiety. He stopped the wheel and looked up at her.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Have you seen Callie recently?"

He shook his head, "No," he said, then, "Why?"

"I can't find her."

His calm broke. He assumed she was entertaining herself like the rest of the kids. Thinking back, he didn't remember her talking about going anywhere or meeting anyone.

"When did you last see her?" He asked.

"This morning, at breakfast, have you seen her since then?"

"No, I asked her if she wanted to come to the store and she said no."

Carole's face paled. She raked her hands through her hair as she began to hyperventilate. Goose hurried to her side to calm her down.

"Hey, she can't have gone far, we'll find her okay?"

He held her in a strong embrace. Worry knotted deep in his gut as he wondered where she could be. Perhaps she ran away, she would be their first. It was to be expected but didn't ease the stress slowly inching in around him.

He stroked Carole's hair as he tried to assure himself, "We'll find her."

~~~~

Natasha watched them return to the car with grave faces, and for good reason. Callie wasn't with them. Usually she didn't care if someone ran away, she didn't like to care about anyone, but she’d started to bond with her. They were both self-sufficient, both knew what it was like to be the only person they could rely on, both found Goose and Carole sweet nature a bit too much sometimes.

Upon getting back to the car, Carole crumpled into Goose's arms again. Natasha could tell he was trying to be the strong one but knew by the faint look on his face that he was struggling too.

"What if we don't find her?" She said, her words muffled through the window.

"We will, we've just got to check somewhere else."

"But we've checked everywhere we can think of! All over the house, up and down the street, at the school, at her old house, there's nowhere else!"

Her head fell onto Goose's shoulder, he rested his head on her's. He scrunched his eyes shut, his hands tense around her as they came to the realisation that they may have actually lost a child.

Yet, just when all hope seemed to be lost, Natasha had an idea. All week, Callie had been talking about Lunar New Year. The food she told her about made her stomach rumble. It was the only time she really mentioned her parents. It wasn't like she had a bad relationship with them, she denied it with vigour anytime someone insinuated that she did, but they’d been going away for work more and more over the recent years until Callie had to fend entirely for herself.

She yanked off her seatbelt and ran out of the car to Goose and Carole. They broke their embrace, Carole's eyes were red.

"I think I might know where Callie is."

~~~~

Chinatown may be a bit of an exaggeration. It was, more accurately, two streets of bakeries, restaurants, butchers, wholesalers, groceries and other stores filled with goods you couldn't find in most shops. People milled about with shopping bags, glancing in windows and talking in other languages.

Goose and Carole, along with the rest of their kids, cut through the crowds in increasing amounts of panic. Natasha had told them how much Callie spoke of Lunar New Year and all the foods her family would make. Maybe she'd gone there to get a few things?

"Callie!" Carole yelled down the street. "Callie!"

They couldn't see her amongst the people. Carole began to panic as she settled herself on the idea that she was gone for good.

Goose stopped her spiralling and held her by the shoulders. There was just as much panic in his eyes as she was feeling, yet he managed to block it out. He had been in the navy after all, they'd trained panic out of him at the Academy.

"How about I check that way with Brad and Mickey-" he gestured to his left. "And you go the other way with Nat, okay?"

She nodded and kissed him on the cheek before darting off into various shops. Luckily, she'd brought a photo with her to show to people. Yet, no matter how many times she asked if they'd seen her, no matter how many times she repeated her description or flashed the photo, no one had seen her.

They were running out of shops, down near where the street met the road, when all hope seemed lost. She'd never felt this defeated before. What if they were deemed unfit and the kids got taken off them? She wouldn't know if they would go to a good home, with loving carers, or another bad one.

Natasha may think she could cope but Carole couldn't live with herself if she fell back on that icy exterior she used to protect herself. And Mickey, sure he was growing up, but she wouldn't know if someone would be as patient with his ramblings like her and Goose were.

"Carole, look-" Natasha tugged on her arm and pointed to someone coming out of a butcher's across the street. "Is that her?"

It sure seemed like it. Black hair in two plaits hanging down on either side of her head. She was even wearing the same stripey purple top with denim dungarees like she was this morning. It was her.

"Callie?"

She looked up from a piece of paper and spotted them. Her eyes widened as she moved to see Goose running to her. Carole joined him and was soon bolting toward her.

"Callie, oh my goodness, what were you thinking, disappearing like that?" She exclaimed, pulling her into a hug.

She didn't want to let her go but knew she had to when Goose tapped on her shoulder. He took the bags from her, giving her a smile as she rubbed her arm.

"I'm sorry if you're mad, I-I won't do it again."

Goose lent down, "Callie, we're not mad, you just scared us that's all."

"But I just went shopping, for new year, I do it all the time."

He sighed, smiling again, "I know, and we're not denying that you're perfectly self-sufficient, but to us we saw a fourteen year old disappearing with no note of where she could be." She went to say something but he carried on. "And we don't want to lock you up like Rapunzel, but maybe tell us next time so we can pick you up and drop you off and know where you are, okay?"

She nodded and they headed back to the car. Goose took a gander in the bags.

"What did you buy anyway?"

"Ingredients."

"For?"

"Food."

They reached the minivan. Goose placed the bags in the back of the car and slid open the door for the kids. Callie still seemed ashamed. She sat on her hands and didn't make any conversation, even with Natasha when she tried.

As Carole drove them home, Goose made eye contact with Callie through the rear view mirror.

"When is Lunar New Year anyway?"

"Monday."

"Maybe we could help?"

She seemed to ponder that fact for a second before answering, "Maybe."

Goose settled, satisfied. They carried on driving.

~~~~

It had been another chaotic day. Early morning marinating. Cooking all afternoon. All for this. Callie had shown them the other traditions, money in red envelopes, lanterns decorated the house. They'd even got some fireworks for later.

"So, what've got here, exactly?" Bradley asked.

"Sweet and Sour Fish, Shrimp in Longjing Tea, Stewed Bamboo Shoots, Spiced Soy Duck, Steamed Buns, Dumplings and Spring Rolls." Callie said, pointing to each bowl in the middle of the table.

"It's a lot," Goose said, he was trying to hold his chopsticks and struggling greatly, Carole lent over to correct how he held them. "So we better get started!"

And as she watched them all tuck in, she finally understood what Nick meant when he caught her putting out the washing. Sure, she could have done this by herself, but she didn't have to. That's what this was all about.

I spent an ungodly amount of time researching food from the Hangzhou region of China. And yes, I specified the region Callie's family is from because it states her actress speaks the Hangzhou dialect of mandarin as well as general mandarin.

Also, Goose being a potter is a headcanon I hold close to my heart (I'm from an area in the UK called the potteries so it's my heritage I guess).

Also also, Goose having general stiffness and chronic pain after his accident in Top Gun just makes sense to me. It was a serious accident, he literally died, so in an AU where he lives I reckon he wouldn’t just be hunky dory after.

Thanks for reading!

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roll-da-credits · 3 years

Text

SC: Pro Heroes' S/o's Pet Not Liking Them

Characters: Keigo Takami (Hawks), Rumi Usagiyama (Mirko), Taishiro Toyamitsu (Fatgum)

A/n: this fic is brought to you by my rabbit who has unrivaled hate for any man except my dad. He would literally cuddle with my dad but the moment my friend comes who let me tell you ADORES my bunny, he would COMPLETELY ignore him and sometimes even bite him, not like nibbling like bunnies do when they're happy. No, full-on bites like incredibly hard, anyways hope you guys enjoy it. (Also, this was longer than I planned)

🖤❤️🖤

Keigo Takami (Hawks)

You would think Hawks would have a good relationship with birds right? Wrong.

Hawks in the eyes of birds was a bird of prey, which only means one thing, he's dangerous. This unspoken rule amongst birds who are usually weaker doesn't exclude your own pigeon.

It all started when Rumi (Mirko) decided that the group's movie night would be at your house for the first time ever. Obviously, you were rather excited, of all the times you had these movie nights they were never in your home. Another exciting reason was you couldn't wait to introduce Keigo, your lovey lover, to your budgie.

"Hey, birdie." Once you opened the door to your apartment Hawks was leaning there in front of you with a small bouquet of flowers, wearing some casual clothing. Giving a quick to your forehead, you led Hawks into your humble abode.

Your budgie, as always, flew towards you to greet the guest, like he would usually. But instead of landing on your shoulder, he instead flew around Keigo and dove to bite his ears and the exposed skin everywhere.

"So this is the friendly bird you've been telling me about???" Keigo slightly confused and panicked tried to lightly shoo away the flying menace.

You at this point didn't know whether to panic or to laugh at the situation. Your budgie was incredibly kind to everyone, even strangers you just met, and yet here he was, squawking at Keigo trying to bite him.

After a few minutes, you were able to calm your bird down, letting him rest on the crook of your neck and reassure Keigo that he was usually really kind to guests, which Keigo doesn't believe at this point. It wasn't until Rumi came knocking that you stood up to greet her.

Keigo, watched from a distance, excited to see Rumi get attacked by your menace of a bird. "What?!" He exclaimed pointing a judgemental finger at your bird who was now on Rumi's shoulder nuzzling her cheek.

"Scared of a birdie smaller than you Keigo?" Rumi's laughter mocked Keigo, and you couldn't help but let out a few giggles yourself.

"Awww love don't be like that!" You walked over to Keigo and enveloped him in a reassuring hug, still slightly giggling, "I swear I don't know why he doesn't like you."

When the movie started, you and Keigo were cuddling as usual with Rumi slightly third-wheeling, not that she really cared. Weirdly enough you felt a weird tension around you, when you looked over at Keigo, you saw he was staring at your budgie who was on Rumi's shoulder.

Both looking at each other with so much menace it made you burst into laughter. "Is there some kind of bird rivalry?????" Rumi now realizing what was happening laughed extremely loud. "Are you jealous of Y/n's BIRD???"

She teased Keigo, who in retaliation threw a pillow at her. He groaned and pulled you closer. "Whatever, but we're never having movie nights in your house again." You laughed a little before snuggling more into him, "Sure you big baby."

Rumi Usagiyama (Mirko)

"I'm telling you, that little piece of long-looking mouse stole my stuff!" Rumi yelled at you pointing an accusing finger at your ferret who was simply staring up at you her head slightly tilted as if confused about the whole ordeal.

This all started when Rumi decided to come to your apartment straight after patrol, something she's never done. She looked exhausted and in need of some comfort, so you let her in and gave her some clothes to change after showering,

When she walked in, she noticed your ferret staring at her. A weird sense of foreboding crept up onto her. She always had a slight suspicion that the creature didn't like her very much. Whether it was because she was taking up most of your play times with it, or something else, she couldn't care any less.

It was in the ferret's eyes, how they stared at her with intent and a glint of mischievousness. Though when she brought it up with you, you'd brush it off since ferrets are incredibly mischievous and smart.

But the icing on the cake was when she placed her clothes on top of a dresser, including her gloves, to take a shower. Only to come back with both of her gloves missing from the pile. The ferret looking up at her, as if challenging her.

"Rumi, love, why would she even know to hide BOTH gloves. She'd probably steal only one!!" Rumi's mouth fell agape at your statement. You were defending the THIEF???

"You said so yourself didn't you?!! Ferrets are SMART, SHE MUST'VE KNOWN." At this point it was borderline hilarious, so between your next words, you laughed and giggled.

"You probably just misplaced it, come on I'll help you search it. I'm sure we'll find it soon."

You both did not find it soon, it had actually been 30 minutes of nonstop searching. Searching your entire apartment close to twice already, you and Rumi both flopped on the couch, exhausted.

"Ok, maybe I should check her toys." Her being your ferret, you finally caved in and searched around her toys.

Low and behold.

"I TOLD YOU!!!" You found both Rumi's gloves tucked away in the long rubbery-plastic tunnel you made for your ferret.

Rumi crashed on the floor in a fit of laughter, with you holding the dirty gloves looking at your ferret rather disappointed at her. Your ferret looked up with its adorable eyes as if it had done nothing wrong.

"Your ferret's a demon I'm telling you!" Rumi wiped a tear from laughing too much.

"I'm sorry for not believing you." You said followed by an exasperated sigh. Rumi walked over to you and enveloped you in a bone-crushing hug, "It's fine, this was actually more fun than just watching random movies like we planned."

Taishiro Toyamitsu

Taishiro loves animals and animals love him. Both skinny and fat form, he's just a lovable person for every single living being. Animals, humans, plants, all of them thrive when being cared for by him. Including you, but excluding your cat.

Taishiro knew the moment you said you had a cat that he would have to work a little bit harder to get her to like him. What he didn't expect was for your cat to completely ignore him no matter what he did.

"Trying to woo her again?" You smirked a little bit when you saw him in his skinny form holding a small bag of catnip smiling rather sheepishly.

"No cat can resist catnip." He paused shortly, "Right?"

You giggled at his adorable antics, reaching up to slightly ruffle his soft hair. Inviting him you watched from afar as Taishiro approached your cat who was sunbathing near a window and, as usual, ignoring him.

He slowly approached her, his big hands slowly opening the bag. When he did, her head immediately darted at him, you stood up straighter at this. Really curious at the first time your cat acknowledged his existence.

Taishiro couldn't feel more excited at the moment and slowly got closer to her, shaking the bag slightly. Your cat's irises expanded, showing that she might be rather happy.

But just as Taishiro was about to pet her, she stretched from her position and walked calmly away from him. Ignoring him once again.

You stifled a laugh at his dejected form, shoulders slumping down and a dark aura surrounding him.

You draped your body over his back, a small attempt in hugging him, "Hey you'll get more chances, I'm sure she'll warm up to you eventually."

Taishiro looked up at you with watery eyes and a small pout, making your heart melt at the sight. "How about this? You'll get even more chances if you live with me."

Your eyebrows wiggled at him, and his slumped figure immediately brightened up. Crushing you in a tight bear hug and shaking you around. "I'll make sure your cat loves me."

#hawks x reader #hawks fluff #keigo x reader #hawks x you #mirko x you #mirko x reader #fatgum x reader #fatgum x you #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha #rumi usagiyama #taishiro toyomitsu #taishiro x reader #rumi x reader #mirko fluff #hawks scenario #hawks headcanons

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scuttle-buttle · 2 years

Text

WC: 1829

Rated: M

Tags: humor, adult and sexual humor, detailed descriptions of male genitalia, fluff, married life

A/N: I saw a commercial for this on Facebook and thought it was a joke but it's not apparently. And then I got to talking with @lorna-d-m …. Anyways :)

🩲

The front door shuts and locks with a soft click. You drop your luggage next to the side table, letting out a sigh as you stretch and crack the joints in your stiff neck. After an almost 6 hour flight, plus a 3 hour delay due to bad weather, you were finally back in New York. The townhouse you share with your husband is quiet, dark. Only the soft sounds of Tchaikovsky can be heard wafting from the upstairs home office, leading you to where your Laszlo must be. Looking at your cell phone's clock you see it's nearly 10pm; you know he's eaten dinner by now and is likely just waiting for your impending arrival.

Climbing the stairs you stop and lean on his door frame. Laszlo is concentrated on a book, his brows scrunched and round glasses perched on the edge of his nose. He gives a tiny grunt before writing something in one of his many notebooks.

"Find anything interesting?"

His face pops up from the tome. "Ah! Bärchen, I didn't hear you come in." He marks his page before standing and walking over to you. Laszlo's kiss is warm and comforting, welcoming you home after nearly a week away. His hands find purchase on your waist. "Your flight was smooth I trust?"

"A little turbulence but otherwise it was fine, yeah."

"And the conference?"

"A lot of fun - I'll have to take you with me next year. I'm sure you'll get a kick out of some of the lecturers and their crazy ideas about collective psyche and social movements." You roll your eyes in good humor.

Laszlo leans in once more, his lips brushing delicately against yours. He quickly deepens the kiss. You can feel the way his body presses closer to you, a subtle firmness along your hip. Before things can get too heated you break away to look into his amber eyes. "As much as I would love to... make up for lost time," you give him a pout, "I'm exhausted and just want to shower and go to bed." You level him with your best puppy dog look as a means to apologize for killing the moment.

Laszlo chuckles. "There is nothing to apologize for, my dear. Having you back in my arms is more than enough for me." He steps back, using his left hand to gently guide you from where you lean and into the hall towards your bedroom. You beeline for the ensuite bathroom, your husband a few steps behind in the bedroom finding you something clean to change into. "Have you had a chance to eat something?" he calls to you.

His question reminds you that in your desperation to return to your loving husband and wash off the day you neglected to actually eat more than the paltry bag of airplane pretzels. As if on cue your stomach growls. You lean your head back towards the bedroom as you pull a fresh towel from the closet. "No, I figure I'll shower and then whip up a little something before bed."

"Allow me."

You turn to look back at him as you continue to set up the shower, removing your traveling clothes in the process. "Oh no Laz it's okay, I can do it-"

He levels you with a look before cutting you off "-and I, your husband, am offering to make dinner for my wife, whom I love."

Clicking your tongue against your cheek you simply nod in acquiescence.

The hot spray loosens your tense muscles. Next time you had to fly out any longer than 2 hours you were definitely going to take up your husband’s suggestion to fly first class. He'd offered you the upgrade when you first planned your trip, but you'd simply shrugged and said it wasn't necessary, that you'd rather him spend the money on treating you to a nice date when you got home instead. Boy how your body hated you for that now...

You wash away the day of traveling and quickly follow with your usual skin care routine after. The steamy room keeps you warm under your fluffy towel, but all you want is to throw on one of his old t-shirts and slide under the silk sheets of your shared bed.

Opening the door you spot a plate of grilled cheese waiting for you on the bed. You waste no time making yourself comfortable on the end of the bed and digging in to the crispy, gooey, buttery sandwich. Moaning around the bite you shovel as much as you can fit into your gullet the second go. Laszlo isn't here as you finish the first sandwich.

Three bites into the second grilled cheese he enters the room. Holding your hand to cover your mouth you mumble out "thank you." His answer is a kiss to your head. You swallow. "You know I'll never figure out how you learned to make the perfect grilled cheese?" You tear off a chunk to pop in his mouth as he stands before you.

"A secret I'll never tell," he winks, leaving you to go change for bed.

You grin around a mouthful. "Well as long as you keep making them for me I'll be perfectly content to never know."

Laszlo exits the closet in his dark robe, the ties undone and the glorious expanse of his chest and abdomen on display for your wandering eyes. Gaze trailing along the line of chest hair from top to bottom you stop in your tracks when you reach his shorts. A pair of obnoxiously plaid boxer briefs hug his hips and thighs. What really gets your attention as he walks past you? What sticks out between his legs.

For fucks sake you had to be imagining things.

You blink quickly. You knew Laszlo was gifted, so to speak. He was the biggest you'd ever been with by far. There were no complaints from you; above average size and he knew how to use it? A+, top of the class. But the absolutely massive bulge that protrudes from his crotch currently?

It's obscene.

There's no way you're seeing clearly! Maybe you just forgot what his dick looks like? How long were you away for? Did he take something? Are you jetlagged? Is it possible to forget the size of your husband’s penis if you go too long without seeing it? Your mind races as it tries to piece together what you think you just saw.

You must be making quite the face, as the next thing you know Laszlo is looking down at you with concern. "- are you alright?" He waves his fingers in front of your slackjawed face.

Starting blankly at him for a second you finally reply with an extremely eloquent "... what?"

"You don't look well, are you alright?"

Oh. Right.

"Uh…." You gather your wits, looking back at his boxers as he stands before you. Not only are they plaid, but right on said crotch is a picture of mistletoe - if you weren't in such a state of confusion you would've found the pun to be funny. "What the fuck are you wearing and why is your dick so big?!" blurts out before you can stop yourself. Your hand claps over your mouth.

You both immediately share a look; eyebrows to your hairline as if to say 'wow I can't believe what you just said'. With a blink he looks down at himself and proceeds to give a soft "oh".

"I'm so sorry I don't... uh…" your voice gives out on its feeble explanation. What a thing to say to your husband, questioning the size of his manhood, you lament at your awkwardness. Then it clicks. You've seen those before, several months ago. "Wait wait wait…. are those the-" your words are cut by a small giggle "- are those the gag gift I got you for Christmas last year with the little-?" you hold your hand up to mimic a cupping motion.

You had seen the underwear on Facebook and thought the whole concept was some sort of joke; boxer briefs with a built in "hammock" that held everything up like a "push-up bra for your jingle balls" the ad proclaimed. The whole thing was too hilarious, so naturally you bought a pair for your husband as a joke knowing he would never wear them. And so to the back of the closet they went, until now that is.

"Ah….well," he clears his throat. His left hand comes to scratch along his bearded jaw. Laszlo meets your eyes finally, his cheeks redder than a tomato; "I fell behind on laundry while you were away."

You bite your lip to stifle the smile threatening to break your face. "So instead of doing laundry you dug those out? Laz oh my god! They have mistletoe right on your-"

"- Yes I know," he finishes for you. "If I recall it was you that bought them to begin with."

"Yeah but I just wanted to see you blush, I didn't think you'd actually wear them ever!" Pulling him closer you stand him between your legs from where you sit. The material is soft. With a finger you push just under the waistband, pulling back and letting it snap against his hip. He gives a soft grunt.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

You raise a single eyebrow at him. "How do they feel? You know," you gesture downward with your chin.

He licks his lips briefly. "To be honest," he pauses, "they are some of the most comfortable bottoms I've ever worn," he finishes quietly, as if reluctant to admit how much he likes them.

Humming in amused satisfaction you add "and you look fantastic in them, it really brings out-" you wave your open palm over the general area between his hips before concluding with "-the color of your eyes." The smirk is full force as you watch him cringe at your tease. "What more could a girl want? But Jesus you're huge."

Laszlo scoffs, his face burning an even darker shade of red. A hint of a smile tugs at his lips, despite him trying to remain stoic at your compliments. "I do believe it's time for bed," he deflects and pulls away from you, effectively ending your ribbing. Shedding the robe he situates himself under the covers and gives you an expectant look.

"All I'm saying is I'm a very lucky woman." You join him in bed.

The two of you lay curled into one another in a peaceful quiet for several minutes. The calm of the dark bedroom and the exhaustion of your week has finally caught up with you. In the first pulls of sleep you whisper out "Hey Laz?"

"Yes my dear?"

Not one to let go of your mischievousness so easily, you say "if you like them so much I can always get you some more." You yawn. "But maybe not ones with mistletoe on the crotch. That's for my eyes only."

Click here to read part 2- Clean Laundry

___

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams @that-one-fandom-kid @hb8301 @fandom-princess-forevermore @foggycandywitch @creme-bruhlee @andy-rocks @nonamec0s @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @uncomfortablebagel @rachelicouss @wisia02

Tag list

#peri psyches #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo x reader #laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler fanfic #laszlo kreizler the alienist #the alienist #modern au professor laszlo #modern laszlo kreizler #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #daniel bruhl laszlo kreizler #daniel bruhl x you #daniel bruhl x reader #the interpretation of dreams #psychopathia sexualis #scuttle-buttle #personal

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seasonofthewicth · 3 years

Text

nobody does it like you do - act 6

The final part!! I hope this is a satisfying conclusion! Thank you so much to everyone who has reblogged/commented/shared - it has meant so much. Special thank you again to @morganofthewildfire I'd still be working away at this fic if it wasn't for you, I don't know I ever would have finished it off. Your comments and analysis helped me so much and made this fic better than I could have alone, I'm so grateful.

13k - masterlist - ao3

There are five weeks between the eventful wrap party and her first day shooting the Netflix miniseries in Antica. Five weeks for Aelin to sort her shit.

It’s ambitious, and probably unattainable, but she needs a goal.

She needs something to draw her mind away from Rifthold and the director she knows is no longer there.

She gives herself a week of self pity. A week of lying around her sparsely decorated and impersonal Orynth apartment dwelling and pointedly ignoring the headlines she knows have been released. Elide let her know only one picture was captured of her with tears in her eyes leaving the party. Only one and gods bless Elide she shut it down.

Aelin lies on her uncomfortable couch in well-worn pyjamas with unwashed hair and runs through the photos on her phone of her and Fenrys, her and Manon, and the group of them together on set doing whatever shit they used to do.

She spends more time than she should like that. She sits there until her coffee table is overflowing with takeaway wrappers and Aedion and Elide have stopped texting more than once a day. She’s awful for ignoring them but she’s still mortified.

She hasn’t been able to look Aedion in the eyes since he dropped her back at her apartment after their long flight home from Rifthold. He didn’t say much. After he managed to again get her out of the party with minimal press she had cried, curled up between Aedion and Lysandra in their bed, and he didn’t offer judgement or instruction.

He just held her, whispering words she can’t remember but appreciates anyway. Now she hasn’t replied to any of his texts.

She hasn’t texted Fenrys or Manon either. She doesn’t know what to say.

She knows Fenrys jumped immediately into another movie, an action movie she knows he’s been chomping at the bit to get training for, and Manon into the second series of her show that she’s probably too famous for now.

They’re busy. They’ll understand. At least that’s what she tells herself.

The worst thing she does in that week is pour over the photos she has of Rowan. She didn’t realise she had so many but her camera roll is full of silver and green.

There are photos of just him, looking like Rowan, tall and handsome and understatedly happy, smiling covert little smiles at Aelin behind the camera. He was used to her instructing him to pose by the end of filming, she loved snapping away as he did anything. Eating, sleeping, smiling, everything - if it was Rowan she wanted it captured.

Now every photo is a knife to the chest.

The ones of the two of them together are worse, they twist the knife, pain splicing through her until she can hardly breathe. There are pictures of their cheeks pressed together, eyes shining, some serious, some silly. In all of them Aelin can clearly see her own happiness.

She can’t stop looking at them even as tears swell in her eyes and her throat gets tight.

For one week.

Until it’s been seven days since her flight landed back in Orynth and she gets up off her couch and deletes them. She almost doesn’t, her thumb hovers over the button for a good minute before she presses down but then it’s done and they’re gone. She showers and changes her clothes, she throws away all the rubbish on her coffee table and makes a plan.

Filming the movie with all of them it was easy to feel better than she did before, surrounded by new and exciting things, new people who didn’t know her before or treat her differently because of it. It was easy to lose herself in who she was there and with them.

Now though, she’s back to real life and real life lasts for an uneventful three weeks.

She tries what she can, she reads, she runs, she bakes, she teaches herself how to knit. None of it is satisfying and it's hard to make it stick. It’s all boring and never quite captures her attention the way she hopes. Never captures her attention enough to tear it away from Rowan and Rifthold.

A week before she flies out to Antica it changes.

She stumbles upon the change, completely accidentally, and she doesn’t realise what she’s needed until it's right in front of her.

Her usual run route is obstructed by construction and so she takes a left where she usually takes a right, heading down into the west side of the city, the side she doesn’t often frequent.

She used to. She used to spend hours strolling the streets letting the warmth of the sun and Sam’s hand in hers settle into her skin as they observed the numerous bakeries and small boutiques. Thankfully the scenery appears to have changed since.

The chill breeze of the September Orynth air teases the loose strands of hair tickling her face as she comes to a stop outside the sleek shop front. The wooden panels are painted a dark, glossy black and the windows are polished so brightly they reflect what’s left of the sunlight.

Music of Mistward the sign reads in curved, white lettering.

She can see her reflection in the shop window, her cheeks flushed, hair unruly, her running gear nowhere near to what would be appropriate attire for the shop dripping in class but she can’t turn away.

A bell tinkles as she pushes through the door, her headphones gripped tight in her fist as the gentle jazz playing over the sound system greets her. She doesn’t like jazz, it’s not her thing, but along with the musk of wood in the air it’s soothing in welcoming her in.

She passes walls of guitars and violins until she reaches the instrument that caught her eye. It’s sleek, black lid propped open revealing the elegant strings, pulled tight in neat lines. The sharp contrast of the keys against each other, bright against the deep black of the case. Her fingers ghost over them, dying to press down.

She hasn’t played since those days in Rowan’s Doranelle home. She’s wanted to, longed to feel the cool keys under her fingertips and the flood of the music pouring out of her, but the cheap keyboard in her Orynth apartment wouldn’t do Rowan’s beautiful instrument justice.

Aelin would rather not play at all than attempt a cheap imitation of what she felt there.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” A voice sounds behind her, low and raspy but cheerful all the same.

She turns, taking in the older man, his grey hair cut short and his classic shirt and slacks pressed crisp. She glances back to the piano before facing him fully.

“Stunning,” she breathes.

The man steps forwards and offers her his hand. She slips her hand into his and he pumps firmly as he introduces himself.

“Emrys,” he says. “Welcome to Music of Mistward.”

“Aelin,” she says, surprised to hear her voice thick.

“Great to meet you, Aelin,” Emrys says with an ancient smile. He nods towards the piano. “Do you play?”

“No,” she says and Emrys’ smile flickers. “Yes, I mean I used to. I want to,” is what she settles on.

He nods, satisfied, before taking a step closer to the piano. He runs a hand over the top, almost reverently and smiles to himself.

“Antique,” he starts, “almost one hundred years old but well loved. I acquired it recently - here we deal mostly in antique instruments, it’s a passion for both myself and my husband. The previous owner only sold it to me when she inherited it and didn’t know how to play, she wanted it to find a good home.”

He shares a smile with her as if she’s in on the joke but her breathing still hasn’t settled.

“Satin Ebony finish,” Emrys continues, “eighty-eight keys, all original but preserved to the highest quality. Accompanying bench, cut with refreshed velvet. I don’t know in all my years I’ve seen such a fine instrument as old as this.”

Aelin glances back to the piano, it’s big, it won’t fit in her apartment in Orynth but she doesn’t care. She can… adjust. She hasn’t felt a pull like this in a while, she doesn’t want to deny it when she does.

“How much?” she almost demands from the man in front of her.

He appraises her and she knows what he sees. Her bedraggled state and the tension through her shoulders doesn’t give the impression of someone with this much cash to throw around. She abruptly ignores that the way she probably can afford this is because of Rowan’s movie.

When he doesn’t speak she repeats herself, more firmly. “How much?”

“Our price includes delivery and tuning on arrival.” He seems apprehensive of telling her the truth. Aelin waits.

When he finally reveals the figure Aelin blinks. And then she extends her hand. “I’ll take it.”

To his credit Emrys just nods, shaking her hand. “You don’t want to at least play it first?”

Aelin feels the smirk she hasn’t worn in a while creep onto her face. “Is there a risk you’re pulling a fast one on me?”

Emrys returns her smile, a playful glint in his eye. “Not a chance, Aelin. Please follow me to the register where I can take your details.”

Aelin almost stumbles. Almost, but then recovers.

“Any chance I can pay a deposit and then let you know where you’ll be delivering sometime soon?”

Emrys winks knowingly. “Absolutely.”

She follows him to the counter, signs away part of a disgustingly large total of money but leaves with a sense of satisfaction. It’s an accomplishment, a step for purely selfish reasons.

The first thing she does when she leaves the shop is call Elide.

Aelin meets her new therapist two days before she flies out to Antica.

She hasn’t called her old one in months and thinks that’s probably a sign. And she’s all about changes at the moment.

She isn’t shooting in Antica for too long, only a couple of months until she’s back in Orynth and then back to Rifthhold for press. Her stomach drops everytime the thought wanders into her head.

She’s excited to be back in Rifthold, but the company is daunting.

Fenrys and Manon will easily be pissed at her disappearance. She knows Manon will play aloof but she also knows she’ll be upset, Fenrys too. Aelin didn’t mean to hurt them, didn’t mean to drop off the face of the Earth, and she knows she’s let them down but Fenrys and Manon remind her of Rowan. She couldn’t trust the conversation not to eventually steer towards him and Aelin isn’t ready for that.

Their break-up feels weirdly anticlimactic. After everything they built to, Aelin just dipped.

She knows it seems that way to Rowan at least. She hasn’t texted him, or rang him or anything since the party. She’s wanted to, wanted more than anything to hear his voice as she cried, but it’s not fair to him to drag it out and she knows that. She knew when she drew the line she had to stay on her side of it, no matter how much it hurt.

She had cried until her head pounded and her throat was raw. She cried until her eyes itched with no tears left to fall, until all that came out of her was hoarse screeches as she ached to hear him call her Fireheart one last time.

But no one needs to know that, she had kept it as hidden as she could.

She definitely didn’t need any more paparazzi pictures of her with red-rimmed eyes looking downtrodden. She couldn’t bear the thought of Rowan, or worse her mother, seeing them.

She knows Fenrys and Manon; Aedion, Lysandra and Elide would see through her flimsy excuses and so it was easier to stay quiet.

She’s not thinking about facing them yet. She supposes that will be something that likely comes up with this new therapist, but so far on her own, she’s choosing avoidance.

She gets Maeve’s number from Dorian, and she comes highly recommended by a number of Dorian’s other high profile clients. She’s well-versed in non-disclosure agreements, secret sessions and back street exits; she feels like the perfect fit for Aelin.

Unofficially, Dorian lets her know Maeve takes no shit, and that’s also just what Aelin needs.

They agree to online sessions while she’s in Antica, but Maeve recommended an initial meeting and Aelin is open to all of her suggestions.

Their first hour is not directly her most life changing but it’s a start.

“Welcome, Aelin,” Maeve says, sweeping an arm out towards the firm-looking, orange couch in the centre of the room.

Aelin takes a seat, mutters her thanks and glances around the room.

The room should feel cold with the exposed brick and minimalistic decor, the only furniture being the couch Aelin perches on, the almost regal armchair Maeve reclines in and a lamp, but it doesn’t and she gets comfortable tucking her feet beneath her thighs and leaning against the arm.

“So,” Maeve begins, surveying her in the way only a true professional can. “Let’s get started.”

Aelin feels bare beneath her gaze, and like everything about Maeve and her practise it should be unnerving but she just blinks against the scrutiny.

“Why are you here today? You could start with sharing why you have made this appointment.”

And isn’t that the million gold-mark question?

Aelin takes a deep breath through her nose and raises her chin.

“I don’t want to move backwards,” she admits. “Or maybe I just want to know I’ve actually moved forwards.”

Maeve’s expression stays calm, but Aelin knows she’d be smirking if she could. She’s well aware of how therapy works but even so, speaking her thoughts aloud can help to verify them in her own mind.

Aelin hopes so at least.

Their hour is over quickly and Aelin is resolved that Maeve is a good fit, reassured in Dorian’s claim that the woman takes no shit. Her all-knowing assessment of Aelin should have been unsettling but the frank dissection is what she needs.

Online therapy, especially fitting it around shooting might be a challenge but it’s for the best. As much as she values her independence and standing on her own two feet, Aelin is big enough to admit that facing her mother again may require some professional guidance. Seeing Rowan too, but again, she’s not thinking about that yet.

Antica is hot and Aelin is sweaty within seconds of stepping out of the air-conditioned luxury of the airport. That feeling lasts the entire time she’s there, disrupting the otherwise enjoyable time she has shooting the series.

Her new co-stars are fine, they invite her out with them and make her smile but she can’t help as though a part of her is always comparing them to who and what she left in Rifthold. Aelin tries her best to enjoy her time there with them, she hosts dinner parties and invites them to a game of Aedion’s but nothing quite hits the same as her time spent on The Crescent City.

She rationalises it to Maeve, that The Crescent City was a big turning point in her life and that it has nothing to do with Rowan, Fenrys or Manon, but she’s not sure she even believes it herself.

She spends the rest of her time in Antica trying to convince herself, and Maeve, that she’s moving past it. That she’s moving forwards or else she’ll move backwards. She’s not sure how much of it is futile.

The Crescent City is done, whether she likes it or not, and she can’t deny it changed her in ways she didn’t expect. It’s a hard pill to swallow that maybe it changed her beyond return to how she was before. She also can’t quite figure out whether she thinks that’s a bad thing or not.

They have a dinner for the core cast and crew, including Rowan, once they’re all back in Rifthold for the beginning of the press cycle. They have one night to reacquaint before they’re shoved into the whirlwind that is interviews, photoshoots and promotion.

She’s seen the trailer already and it’s just as she expected but more. It’s dark and dreary with flashes of brightness from herself and Fenrys and she’d want to watch it if she chanced a viewing as a member of the public.

What is surreal, is to see herself in a polished version of the film they were creating. Or at least a part of it.

She said each of the lines, rehearsed them over and over until they fell off her tongue without thought, but she still doesn’t recognise the girl in the trailer. A droplet of pride slips down her chest at the realisation that it’s not Aelin in the trailer but Feyre. She knows she’s good, has known it all along, but the realisation and reaffirmation is ecstasy better than any drug.

She hovers outside the restaurant, watching through the window, needing a couple more seconds before she submits herself to the assault of them all again. She still hasn’t replied to either Fenrys or Manon and the thought presses on her like lead but it’s too late to change that now.

If she’s honest she’s concerning herself with Fenrys and Manon in the hopes of distracting herself from the fact that she’s seconds away from Rowan. Seconds away from him in the flesh, his solid body in front of her that she had learned almost as well as her own.

Her palms are clammy and she wipes them against the fabric of her trousers. The upcoming interviews and photoshoots will all be styled for her and so she’s relishing in her last moments for a while of truly dressing like Aelin.

She takes a step towards the restaurant door, the tip of her trainer bumping the wood when a voice sounds behind her.

“Well, hello there, Stranger.”

Aelin braces herself, hand paused outstretched where it had been reaching for the door.

She turns, biting her lip as she faces Fenrys. He looks the same as he did, skin still golden, eyes still dancing with mischief, but his golden curls are trimmed shorter than the last time she saw him. His expression is carefully blank.

“I- Hi… um,” she stumbles over the words. “I’ve missed you.”

Fenrys breaks almost immediately. “Oh thank the fucking gods.”

He surges forwards and wraps her into a tight hug. Aelin clings to him, fighting the tears in her eyes as she buries her face in his chest. She’s gone far too long without this, without him, and it’s all her own fault.

“Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” Fenrys asks. “Oh wait, no you don’t. I’m assuming your phone broke, or was stolen or something since you never replied to any of my texts letting you know.”

Aelin knows her cheeks are stained pink. “I’m sorry,” she admits.

“I know.” His voice softens, losing the teasing edge as he presses a gentle kiss to her cheek.

He pauses before he speaks again, his eyes running over her face. “You could have texted me anytime, you know. Manon too. I know you might forget or try to convince yourself otherwise, but we are your friends. You could have called us about literally anything.”

Aelin feels like she could cry. She’s not sure that she isn’t.

“It doesn’t have to be about anything serious, especially not related to the movie,” or Rowan he doesn’t say but Aelin hears it. “We just wanted to hear your stupid voice.”

Aelin pouts. “My voice isn’t stupid.”

She pokes her tongue out as he rolls his eyes, easily falling back into the dynamic they had shaped a few months ago.

“Not what I meant,” he says before pausing, taking her in as she stands in front of him. “You can’t lose us that easily, you know. We’re like rats or fleas or something. Hard to get rid of.”

“Nice,” she comments, but her chest is tight at his words.

He smiles at her before adding, “and you had fucking better text me back.”

Aelin laughs through the sniffles he’s kindly ignoring. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and finds his contact. Hi she sends and feels his phone buzz against her.

“Much better,” he says and releases her from his arms. “Now, are you ready for a night of the finest dining all on the studio credit card?”

Aelin laughs again. “Lead the way.”

He shoots her a wink and waltzes ahead to hold the door open for her.

Fenrys’ presence shouldn’t reassure her the way it does, especially after the way she has treated him but she clings to him anyway. He’s her buffer for now, a crutch for tonight and tonight only. Once tonight is over and tomorrow begins she and Rowan can be professional, they managed it for months during filming and this should be no different.

Rowan still looks the way he did the night she broke his heart.

His silver hair falls elegantly over his forehead as he bends his head to talk to Manon, the pair of them are engrossed in a conversation as she and Fenrys walk over, not spotting them yet. She loves his hair, loves the thick silver waves and the way they feel between her fingers. She loves the way any attempt he makes to arrange the thick strands is never quite able to tame the beast. She loves the shirt he has on, with the sleeves rolled up exposing inches of tanned skin and dark ink, the same worn green cotton she wore numerous times around his living room all those months ago. She can still remember the feel of it against her bare skin.

His smile is the same, his green eyes crinkling as his lips barely part as he does his best to hold it back.

His smile is the same until he spots her.

He catches sight of her when she reaches the table and his smile drops, the shutters closing over his expression so fast she wouldn’t know he knew how to smile had she not just seen it.

It tears her chest in two and any attempt at a smile on her part is futile. It’s all she can do to make it to her seat without stumbling and she’s sure she misses any other greetings she gets as she slumps onto the chair opposite Manon. She absently notes Fenrys dropping in at her side.

She can’t look away from Rowan, her eyes scanning to try and find anything that distinguishes him from the man she loved all those months ago. She finds nothing. He’s still Rowan and Aelin still… fuck.

He recovers before she does, ever the collected courtier, clearing his throat and nodding.

“Aelin,” he says and she adores the sound of her name on his tongue.

“Hi Rowan,” she manages and hears how weak she sounds. Rowan hears it too. She can tell from the purse of his lips and the tension in the hand he rests along the back of Manon’s chair.

Aelin allows her eyes to drift to Manon and she finally catches the thunderous expression the younger girl wears.

“Hi,” she whispers and Manon blinks.

“Hi?” Manon repeats incredulously.

Aelin is fucked.

“Five months and I get a hi?”

It’s loud and a few heads turn their way. It’s simultaneously mortifying and everything Aelin deserves.

“I’m sorry,” she says plainly.

She could lie, make up some useless excuses but in the end there’s nothing else but the truth and if Manon wants her to grovel she will, she’s just not sure this is the time or place.

Fenrys shares her thoughts. “Later, Manon,” he says, gently.

Rowan’s eyes stay firmly glued to the tablecloth as Manon frowns, seemingly unwilling to let it go.

After a few seconds, seconds Aelin spends waiting for the ground to open up and swallow her, Manon nods. She nods and turns to Fenrys, demanding to know what he’s ordering. And just like that Aelin has a moment to catch her breath.

She knew this dinner wouldn’t be easy, knew she’d be walking into the lion's den of her own making, but she hadn’t expected it to be as hard. Hadn’t expected seeing Rowan to feel like a slap, hadn’t expected Manon’s hurt to scrape across her skin leaving her raw.

She tries not to think she deserves it, Maeve would only raise a brow as if to say we’ve been over this. The thought is sobering, and she manages to lift her head.

It is what it is, what’s done is done and she can only apologise and move forwards.

As much as she tries to resist, Aelin finds herself watching Rowan throughout the night. It’s scary how familiar he feels, he should feel like a stranger, but he feels like she knows him too well. He laughs when she expects, rolls his eyes when she predicts. He orders what she thought he would and he sips away at an orange juice the way he did the first dinner they all had together.

Aelin already feels so different than she did the last time she was in Rifthold and he seems unchanged.

She observes for most of the night, feeling drained despite her minimal contributions to the conversations. She speaks when spoken to and actively avoids speaking when Rowan does, she definitely doesn’t respond to anything he says even though she wants to at least twice and wants to laugh a couple more.

She makes it through and clings to Fenrys again as they all leave, linking her arm through his as they leave the restaurant. He knows what she’s doing but graciously guides her out of the building. Once on the pavement outside the restaurant he pauses and turns to her.

“What hotel are you staying in while you’re here?”

The rest of the group are milling about, calling taxis and bidding their farewells. Aelin doesn’t know how she’s getting back yet, she’s assuming she’ll split a ride with someone.

“Um, the Glass Castle, I think,” she says, desperately trying to recall the name of the hotel she dumped her bags in a few hours earlier.

“Boo,” Fenrys laughs, pointing his thumb down. “They’ve got me in the Torre Cesme. Think I’m ages away from you.”

Aelin laughs, disappointed but ready to order her own taxi back when a voice she didn’t expect sounds.

“I’ve just ordered a cab to the Glass Castle, I’m staying there too. You can jump in if you want.”

Rowan.

She shoots Fenrys a panicked look but his expression is pure glee.

“That would be great thanks, Boss,” Fenrys says, shrugging his arm out of hers and nudging her towards Rowan.

“No problem, Boyo.” Rowan offers Fenrys a dark grin at the nickname and the sight of it stills her. It’s new, he used to roll his eyes whenever Fenrys would drop it into conversation, but now Rowan’s playing along. And the grin, the curl of the lips and the narrowing of the eyes, it’s sexy as fuck.

It’s only taken one night and she’s back in the danger zone. She doesn’t want to be, hell, she wants him to take her back to his hotel room and peel off her clothes but this is Rowan. She’s spent the last few months trying to get over him, falling into bed with him the first night she sees him again would not likely be defined as progress.

He’s also not likely to want that after what she did.

“You don’t have to,” she says. The first direct thing she’s said to him since their greeting.

“I know.” A slight shrug of his broad shoulders. “But we’re going to the same place, it wouldn’t seem logical to take different cars.”

Logic. That’s all it is.

“Right.” She doesn’t think she’s ever felt so awkward with him, not even at the start. “Thank you,” she says, following him to the car.

Fenrys shoots her a grin as he slips into his own taxi. Traitor.

Rowan holds the door open for her and slips in behind her. She tries not to think anything of the fact he could have easily taken the front seat.

The ride is silent apart from the easy chit chat he makes with the driver, another thing she’s not sure she noticed him do before, and she stares out the window as the city passes by. The streets of Rifthold are not her home but she feels a brightness as she glances down the curving roads, spotting groups of people milling about enjoying the night.

She knows the first call she made to Elide in weeks was the right call. Elide is the only person she’d trust with her bank account and access to real estate listings. The link to the flat her friend had sent over has stayed open in her browser since she got it.

It’s modern with classic twists, situated in a recently renovated old warehouse with miles of exposed brick and rustic wooden panelling. She loves the master bedroom the most, with its adjoining en suite with a huge bathtub she can picture herself soaking in. She has a viewing booked in two days but doubts she’ll even need it.

It’s not long before the taxi pulls up outside the hotel and she follows Rowan through the glass doors. He presses the button for the lifts and Aelin shifts in the awkward silence.

Awkward is not something she’s used to with Rowan. Or it wasn’t before.

The doors slide open and again she follows him inside.

He pauses with a hand hovering over the buttons for the floors. “Which floor?”

“Nine.”

Aelin hates these one word exchanges compared to the hours they used to share talking about everything and nothing. She can’t believe this is the man she was so vulnerable with.

His short huff of laughter drags her gaze to his face.

“What?”

“Makes sense,” is what he says, shaking his head and pressing only the button for the ninth floor.

The ride takes seconds, a minute at most, filled with the silence between them.

When the doors open to the ninth floor she steps out, determined not to follow him again, and she feels him follow her. Even now she’s so aware of his powerful body and the way he moves it. She shouldn’t be so attracted to the power emanating from him, from the breadth of his shoulders to the sureness of his steps. She wants him, doesn’t think she ever stopped, except now he’s the forbidden fruit. Forbidden only by her own actions.

She reaches her door, room 905, but pauses with her key tucked in her hand.

“Thanks for letting me share your cab,” she says, finding herself desperate not to say goodbye yet. “I can transfer you for half.”

That finally, finally, cracks a whisper of a smile but she’s not sure she enjoys his laughter if it’s at her. “Don’t worry about it.”

That should be the end of it, she should open her door and shut it behind her, they have a few weeks ahead of them that will be hard enough without any complications.

She left him and he seems gracious enough to have mostly moved past it.

“It was good to see you, Aelin,” he says, seemingly unwilling to let the night end as well. She doesn’t let the seed of hope sprout because what would be the point?

Nevertheless, Aelin smiles, leaning back against her door.

Rowan continues, “even if I wasn’t sure how the night was going to go.”

Her attention is spiked. “What do you mean?”

She can’t lie, a part of her expects him to back down at the edge to her voice. He doesn’t.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to pretend nothing ever happened between us.”

She blinks, giving herself a second to process.

Maybe this isn’t the same Rowan from all those months ago. That night he let her walk away from him, gods know she needed it, but a dark little part of her had wanted him to fight her harder. Fight harder for her. When he hadn’t she’d taken it as her sign.

She knows the expectation was toxic, if he had fought her it would have only pissed her off, but she wishes she’d had someone to tell her it was the wrong choice. It would have helped to hear in the moment, rather than be faced with Rowan months down the line that she wants and can’t have.

The Rowan in front of her, the third Rowan she’s known, stares her down. His eyes peel away each of the layers she’s worked with Maeve for months to don in a second.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

It’s honest and maybe she’s not the same Aelin as a few months ago either.

That’s what she had asked for that night in the cool air, to move past them with as little commotion as possible, stirring up as little attention as they could. She hadn’t wanted to let them eclipse the movie and yet that ended up being exactly what she had accomplished.

Now though, Aelin knows better.

Rowan nods as his eyes dart across her face. He seems to step closer without realising. Aelin notes the motion, still so aware of him and his proximity to her.

His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. “I was so angry at you for leaving.”

Aelin loses her breath at his confession.

Eventually she manages, “was?”

He looks away from her, glancing down the dark hallway, his jaw tight. When she’s with him she forgets about the world around them, there’s probably-definitely-CCTV in this hallway but he’s here and she can’t let him go yet.

His fists curl and uncurl as he takes a deep breath.

“Was,” he says shortly. “I was so angry at you, the way you did what you did was shit.”

Aelin swallows. He’s not wrong.

“I know.”

“But now I don’t know.” She lifts her eyes to his, swimming in the openness she doesn’t deserve. And fuck that. That is such bullshit. She meets his stare, returning all that he isn’t saying. “I spent a long time thinking about it, thinking about you, and it took me a while but now I get it.”

That hurts more than she expects. She didn’t expect him to be all over her the minute they reunited but his understanding was always a kicker.

“I know why you did it,” he continues. “And that took most of the wind out of my sails.”

Aelin frowns. He can’t possibly know why.

“I don’t think you do.” He tilts his head, an invitation for her to expand. “Or you’d know that nothing has changed.”

“Hasn’t it?”

His question throws her. Completely.

She tilts her head up to look at him, closer to her than he’s been all night, pushing her to keep being honest with him.

She’s dazed being this close to him again after so long, the green of his eyes stronger than she remembers. Or maybe her brain had assured her the memory of him couldn’t have been real.

“I don’t know,” she admits, unable to fight the way her body leans into him.

His teeth graze his lower lip and she follows the motion.

He’s silent for a beat too long and her skin is thrumming under his attention. She doesn’t know how she’s gone this long without him, she doesn’t know how she thought she’d survive never having him again.

“Let me know when you figure it out,” he says finally, drawing back and a rush of cool air fills the space he had taken. “Goodnight Aelin.”

He turns and she watches his back down the hallway. He slips easily into a room a few doors down and she’s left watching the path he’d taken, feeling the weight of his eyes on her lips.

Her head thuds against the door as she screws her eyes shut. She wants to scream, wants to chase him down the hall, wants to fly back to Orynth where she was safe.

She doesn’t do any of those things.

She tucks herself into her hotel room and readies herself for the whirlwind that’s about to hit. These next few weeks are going to be hard, not just dealing with the Rowan situation, but she can’t fight the excitement she feels.

Fuck. She’s back in Rifthold, back where she loves, doing what she was born to do.

This is big. She can feel it.

The Crescent City is not her first project, and so she’s been a part of press cycles before, she knows how they go. What she doesn’t know is how a press cycle for something like this works.

The only word she can find is insanity.

There are somehow earlier mornings than they had while shooting and often longer days. She gets poked and prodded in hair and make-up for hours before they spend all day sat in a hotel room filming repetitive interviews for various magazines.

She and Fenrys are genuinely friends and yet they still have to put on a show in front of the cameras. She plays up her laughter when he cracks a joke and he makes sure to never look away from her for longer than two seconds when she speaks or a producer behind the camera makes a comment.

She loves Fenrys but it’s exhausting. Her only blessing is that for most of her engagements she’s with Fenrys and Manon with Rowan conducting his own interviews separately as she had hoped.

Sometimes though, given their relatively similar ages and general level of chemistry, they get grouped together.

The four of them are filming a video for Buzzfeed, filling in a quiz to find out which character from The Crescent City they’re most like. She’s unsurprised to discover her result is Rhysand and it’s fun even if her heart does pound every time she has to act like she’s unfazed and friendly with Rowan.

There’s a moment, just a moment, where she almost breaks from her friendly and unbothered interview persona. It’s her turn to read the question, what item could you not survive without on a desert island?

It’s Rowan that speaks. “Her shampoo,” he says, “it’s jasmine.”

There’s a split second where she doesn’t speak, where all she can do is stare at Rowan, stunned that he remembered and thought to mention it now.

In that split second she’s transported back to memories of them together in the shower at her rented apartment, kissing lazily under the spray after spending hours between her sheets. She remembers dumping the shampoo into her hand and then onto his head, massaging his thick locks and surrounding them in the scent of jasmine.

She remembers how he kissed her neck as she did, trailing his hands over her silky curves, slick with the soap, with his kisses building in heat until her hands dropped to his shoulders. He’d lavished kisses down her chest until he’d jerked back, shampoo in his eyes and she’d laughed until he was safe and pressed his lips again to hers, continuing where he’d left off.

She’s shocked he’d bring this up when there’s a camera on the two of them and she can only imagine the comments it will spark. She’s not sure she cares if it keeps Rowan’s eyes on her.

“It’s luxurious for a reason,” she says when she recovers, tossing her thick locks over her shoulder. “Well worth it.”

She doesn’t miss the flicker in his own mask at her comment.

That kind of interaction will no doubt ignite the sparks she’d only ever wanted to avoid.

As the press cycle goes on and on, and they get closer and closer to the premiere it only becomes harder for her conviction to hold.

She tests her own argument, the clear line she drew in the sand, when she manages to keep it professional with Rowan and she’s not sure where that leaves her. She had thought they would overshadow everything about the project and now she’s not sure.

She said nothing had changed and he had challenged her.

She’s still not sure who’s in the right.

Everything is simultaneously completely new and exactly the same. Rowan is still gorgeous, still charming in his own reserved way, still almost reverent when he talks about his craft throughout interviews. He still talks with his hands and Aelin still can’t draw her eyes away from their motions, she still craves the touch of them on her skin. He’s still seven years older than her and the director of her big break.

Yet there are differences.

They’re still often on the same page, offering similar answers and backing each other up but now he never backs down from a challenge. Now he doesn’t hold back those comments she knows he was always dying to let slip. She should be annoyed, everytime he drops a line that pushes her to expand a little part of her wants to roll her eyes.

She doesn’t though. Her blood heats and her skin prickles. She loves this with him. Loves the dance they play, the teasing, verbal games that shouldn’t start her off but do. She loves the smirk he wears when they end up down that path, and she knows she wears it’s mirror image.

She always ends up squirming in her seat and it should be wrong but it isn’t. The cameras can’t see below their chests and the flush in her cheeks could easily be from the warmth of the day.

She’s beginning to wonder if she’s powerless against Rowan Whitethorn. If she’s powerless against the green of his eyes or the curl of his accent. The slant of his brows or the points of his teeth when he smiles.

She doesn’t know that it’s just one thing. It’s all of the things, it’s all of him, and more so than ever she’s completely fucked.

But they aren’t talking outside of the interviews and photoshoots, and the knowledge of which hotel room is his itches her toes every night. It would be so easy to sneak down the hall, to knock on the door and slot her lips to his when he opened.

It’s only a couple of nights before the premiere when the temptation becomes too much. She’s been around Rowan all day, surrounded by the smell of his aftershave, the notes of pine and freshness and Rowan and it’s too much. She strides down the hallway, resolved in her decision and closes her fingers over the button for the lift.

She needs to be elsewhere or she’ll make some bad decisions.

She’s come so far, survived months without him, she can’t cave due to proximity.

The hotel bar is deserted when she walks in and makes a beeline to the bartender. Yeah, maybe after her wobble at the wrap party a bar isn’t the best decision she could make but her options are limited. Trying to sleep with Rowan is, after all, probably the worst of both options.

“Just a sparkling water please,” she says to the barman who nods and returns a moment later.

“Put it on my tab.” A voice from the end of the bar.

A laugh bubbles out of her chest as she closes her fingers around her glass. Of course he’s here. She should have spotted Rowan the minute she walked in and it’s cruel that the reason she didn’t was that her thoughts were too wrapped up in him.

“Be careful what you sign up for,” she says as she walks over, her steps measured as she comes to a stop before him. Her hips swing of their own accord and his eyes dart up and down the length of her. “I can put a number of these away.”

The smile he gives her is surprisingly unguarded. It seems he’s done holding himself back too. Aelin loves it.

“I don’t doubt it,” he says, nodding at the stool next to him. She obliges as he speaks again. “It’s hard to switch off sometimes.”

He’s always on the same page as she is. Aelin shrugs, taking a sip of the drink he bought her.

They’re quiet for a moment, both unsure of how to break the silence between them when one of the last things they knew was the taste of each other’s lips.

“I keep thinking I’ll get used to it, that one day this will just be my job, but I never do,” Aelin says eventually, tracing a fingertip through the condensation gathered on her glass.

Rowan nods, smiling softly down at the bar and taking a sip of his own drink. An orange juice as usual.

“It’s hard to sleep at the end of days like today,” he says. “It’s why I’m in here.”

The bar is dark at the late hour, and quiet with no one else in there but them and the bartender. There’s something about the late hour, the darkness and the stillness surrounding them a break from the recent rush, that feels a little bit too close. She feels a little too exposed under the weight of his gaze but she rolls her shoulders back and leans an elbow on the bar as she turns towards him.

“I thought you’d be used to all of this by now,” she says and he cocks his head.

“Why?” His question is coy, begging her to expand.

“This is not your first rodeo and all of that,” she says with a smile.

Rowan laughs softly, the sound curving around her like an embrace.

“It can still be overwhelming after your first big movie,” he says gently, but with an edge to his voice that she needs to immediately get rid of.

“I don’t doubt that,” is what she whispers and his brow seems to soften, sensing her lack of malice.

She hates the way they’re in the position where he assumes the worst of her. She has to make that change.

“I don’t think if I get to do this for the rest of my life that it would ever feel normal.”

“No,” Rowan agrees, “I don’t think it could.”

“So then we need this film to do well.” Aelin shifts on the stool, finding herself leaning closer to him without conscious thought. He doesn’t retreat. He stands his ground until they’re only inches apart. “Lest we find ourselves fading into obscurity.”

“I doubt you ever could,” he says with a laugh and it’s the best thing she’s ever heard.

As he looks at her, his expression soft in the dim light, his smile holds something special for her and her chest lifts that she managed it. That he was willing to give that to her.

“My agent sent over the initial critic reviews earlier,” he says and her stomach plummets.

“And?” she demands, her voice wobbling slightly. Her confidence from a minute ago vanished.

This is the moment where she could sink, the moment this could all be over.

“And they’re good,” he almost whispers.

“Good,” she repeats and it’s not a question but he nods.

She wants to throw herself at him at the news, a couple of months ago she wouldn’t have even hesitated, but now she sits clenching her fists and trying not to smile too wide. It feels like a waste. She’ll never get this feeling again.

She turns to him and he’s smiling so she does what she’s wanted to for months. Aelin leans forwards and wraps an arm over his shoulders, pressing her chest to his.

His arms slip up slowly over her shoulders at first, unsure but gaining confidence as he tightens his grip around her, drawing her further into his chest. Aelin laughs a little, throwing her other arm around him and resting her face against his shoulder.

It’s not enough, it never could be with him, but it will do. She’s just happy he didn’t push her away.

Eventually, after a length of time that feels far too short, she pulls back to see him gazing down at her with an expression she can’t name. His brows are drawn in with his lips gently parted. He’s happy but apprehensive, open but distant. Aelin will take what she can and the distance between them has always been too far.

She wants nothing more than to close it, to draw herself into him and he into her, but she can’t. They’re here for one thing and one thing only and she refuses after what they’ve been through to mess it up again.

She knows he can read her own expression but she doesn’t care. She’ll hide from everyone and anyone but she’s realising she could never hide from him.

She wants Rowan, will probably want him for the rest of her life, but she made the call and he’s wrong, things haven’t changed.

Apart from all of the things that have.

The day of the premiere Aelin feels sick.

Her stomach twists and she tosses and turns all night and the dark circles under her eyes are brutal as a result. Her make-up artist tuts but diligently packs concealer on until Aelin looks well rested. Or as close as she can.

She’s trying not to think of the stretch of carpet she’ll have to walk tonight, a smile plastered across her face as she poses for the hundreds of cameras. Their premiere is one of the biggest of the season and, along with Fenrys, she’s the star.

She’ll have nowhere to hide.

Aelin sits in front of her mirror, her hair and make-up are done but she’s yet to get dressed. She takes herself in, making sure to note every strand of hair to every line of her lips, feeling as though she needs to remember this moment. The moment before it all explodes.

They’ve been building to this for almost a year now and this is as close to a culmination as she’ll get.

Her dress is something fierce. Endless, flowing velvet in the darkest shade of black. Long sleeves and a fitted bodice with an almost indecent dip in the back. The dress would be modest without that cut out, she can’t wear any underwear it dips so low.

It would be a simple dress, some might even dare to say boring, if it weren’t for the back. The majority of the fabric that remains is covered in gold embroidery taking the form of a dragon, coiled to strike. Aelin adored the dress the moment her stylist revealed it to her. She didn’t consider any of the other dresses, didn’t even acknowledge them as options.

The dress is what she needs, something strong, something to help her hold her head up high. She can walk the red carpet and stare down every single person who doubted her and know that they were wrong.

Aelin doesn’t need their approval. She doesn’t need the reassurance of faceless commenters, she doesn’t need the support of the magazines and the newspapers. She doesn’t need her mother’s approval. On anything.

Aelin is confident and self-assured and she can walk the red carpet knowing that.

Her sessions with Maeve have helped to reassure her stance, but she’s realising day by day she’s known it all along. It’s just taken a little bit of digging to uncover it.

She slips into her dress and it slides on like a second skin. She takes in her appearance, the arch of her brow and the red smirk of her lips makes her look intriguing, like a confident young woman.

Aelin was born to be an actress but she’s proud to say the sight in the mirror is real.

She poses for a few photos before she’s led out of her room and into the car, waiting to take her to the theatre.

She spends the ride in silence, barely listening to the jabbering of the aide in the car with her, and she focuses her thoughts on the calm before the storm. She takes deep breaths and centres herself the way Maeve has taught, she knows this could so easily be overwhelming but she’s determined to enjoy it.

The car stills and she can hear the noise of the crowd outside. She takes a final deep breath and allows her lips to spread into a smile. This one is genuine, nothing forced about it, and she pauses for one last beat.

This is big and Aelin is ready.

The car door opens and the sound hits her like a wave, slamming down onto her and it's so loud she can hardly think.

This is it. This is the moment she has dreamed of.

The nights where this image was all she could cling to to make it through could never have compared to how it feels standing here now, screams of her own name wrapping around her and urging her on.

Her steps are slow and purposeful as she glides down the path forged for her, the red carpet beneath her stilettos is plush and bright. She pauses where she’s instructed, rolling her shoulders back and smirking at the cameras with a hand on her hip.

She knows she looks incredible and the shouts of the photographers do nothing to change her mind. They are here for her, they’re all here for what she has accomplished, along with Fenrys, Manon, Chaol and Rowan and everyone else involved.

There are so many forces upon her, the flashing of the lights, the screams and shouts calling her name or Fenrys’, the magnitude of what this is could knock down a lesser individual but all it does is raise Aelin up.

She’s been through worse than this and survived, she’ll stare down the lense of all of these cameras, of everyone who has ever spoken her name and she won’t cower, she won’t just survive. She’ll thrive.

A warm hand lands on her waist and somehow the flashes of the cameras explode.

“Hey, golden girl.” Fenrys’ words are almost hard to hear even though his lips brush her ear. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Aelin wraps her arm around his back and grins, “I thought I’d at least show my face.”

He returns her smile and together they pose for the cameras, their shoulders back and smiles confident. She’s not sure this could be better.

Until she turns slightly to her left and gets flashes of silver where she and Fenrys are gold.

Rowan and Manon, posing for their own pictures mere metres away. He looks spectacular, the deep black of his tuxedo doing nothing but bringing out the depth of his tan and the shine of his silver hair.

He’s smiling his public smile and it’s gorgeous even though it’s not her favourite of his smiles, she loves the private ones he used to save just for her, and her own smile falters at the sight.

She’s here with Fenrys and it’s not wrong but it doesn’t feel right. The arm around her waist shouldn’t belong to Fenrys.

She should be where Manon is, smiling up at Rowan while they marvel at what they’ve accomplished. She knows her smile has dropped and she fumbles for anything to plaster onto her expression other than the longing she feels for Rowan.

As if she’d called his name he turns to her, green colliding with blue, and she knows he feels the same.

And that hurts far more than all of the months they spent apart.

All the months she spent hurting, trying to deny what she always knew, trying to pretend that they were anything other than a force of nature. They had been an eclipse, threatening to over take all of this but she was wrong. Rowan was wrong too.

It doesn’t matter whether everything or nothing has changed because she wasn’t right in the first place.

She should have known better than to think that whatever flimsy decision she made could halt what they were, what they should be.

She can only hope he forgives her. She can only hope he feels the same.

But the thing about this new Rowan is that she can’t read him the way she used to read her Rowan, she can’t tell if the way he steels himself and turns away from her is a dismissal or if the look they shared had been just as painful for him as it had been for her.

“A masterpiece.” - Rifthold Reporter

“Fenrys Moonbeam shines alongside Aelin Ashryver in The Crescent City. See our full review here.” - Wyrd Stone

“Latest Rowan Whitethorn flick smashes Box Office records.” - Valg Weekly

“Unapologetic, daring and thought provoking. Award nominations expected to follow for The Crescent City.” - Terrasen Tribune

Her phone has not stopped buzzing for the past four days.

Dorian texts every waking hour with the updates he gets, the numbers coming in and all her latest offers. It’s surreal. She knew they were good but she’s not sure she ever really expected this. Aedion texts her a picture every time he sees or hears her name, it should be terrifying the frequency with which he texts her but she has to fight back her smile each time he does.

She managed to find an hour the night before to call Lysandra and the majority of their call had consisted of Aelin repeatedly asking what the fuck was happening while Lysandra cackled down the phone.

She’d even got a text from Lorcan. It was alright, he’d written. Followed by, I hope I die before ever having to watch you make out with someone like that again.

She’d sent three middle finger emojis and a kissy face in response.

Now is probably not the best time to move to a different country but she’d signed her name on the papers two days before the premiere and Rifthold is calling, irrespective of the fact she’s only been back in Orynth for two days.

Most of her stuff headed out yesterday with the moving company leaving Aelin with two suitcases to fly back to Rifthold with tomorrow.

There’s one last place she needs to go before she heads back to finally get a good night's sleep before her flight tomorrow. She’s never set foot in this graveyard before, she’s never had the courage to dare before, but she’s emboldened. By the success of the movie, by her progress in the past year, by her sessions with Maeve. This has felt like a natural step.

The shining, black headstone is understated and classy and completely to his taste.

Sam Cortland. Beloved son and brother, taken far too soon.

Aelin waits with her head bowed, allowing all of her emotions to rush through her veins. She doesn’t fight them, it would be pointless to try, and she embraces the tears that gather. Eventually she steps forwards, placing the smooth, small stone on the crest of the headstone.

She rests her hand on the cool stone for a moment before sinking down and crossing her legs beneath her as she leans against it.

“I’ve missed you,” she says aloud, “I can almost hear you telling me to stop being such a sappy shit. I can’t help it, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

She pauses, letting the wind drift through the field sweeping her words away.

There’s no one else here but her and Sam, no one else she’d want to hear her confession.

“I wonder what you would have made of all this. I think you’d tell me to enjoy it all, to not miss a moment, and I’m not. I’m just choosing the ones I want to savour. And this is one of them, Sam. I wish you’d been there with me, you would have loved it, the cameras, the lights, everything.

“I have to keep pinching myself to know it’s real, I did it, and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come and see you.”

She sighs, letting her head tip back to rest against the stone. She didn’t prepare anything to say, didn’t realise she’d even want to speak to the open air but here she is.

“I’m not the same Aelin as the girl you knew anymore,” she says after a few moments of silence. “I didn’t think I would have the capacity to love again after you but I did, and I feel terribly guilty that I do. I have to remind myself that this is what you would have wanted, you would have wanted me to be happy.”

The silence in the field is more than an answer enough. So typically Sam to give her an answer without so much as speaking a word.

“I was happy,” she says, trailing a fingertip along the words etched into the stone. “I will be again.”

A faint haze of sunlight drifts through the Orynth autumn clouds, a whisper compared to the chorus of brightness she misses in Rifthold, and she stands, brushing off the dirt from her jeans. She touches the stone one last time before turning and heading out of the graveyard.

Her visit was years overdue but her chest didn’t crack open the way she had expected, the tears hadn’t been relentless the way she had expected. She’ll visit him again the next time she’s back in Orynth, probably visiting Elide and Lorcan for Yulemass, and she’ll visit again and again for as long as she lives.

But for now, she has a plane to catch.

Months later and two days before the Oscars, when they’re all back in town for the ceremony held in her new home city of Rifthold, Fenrys throws another party.

She’s managed, this time, to stay in touch with Fenrys and Manon, having made up with the younger girl before the press cycle had finished. Aelin knows her upset was real but partly suspects the animosity was a front. She even finds herself participating in the group chat with the three of them and Rowan. She’s only texted him one to one once to wish him a happy birthday and they had caught up briefly but not texted since.

She’s missed him in a different way to the last time she missed him. This time missing him doesn’t feel necessary, it feels wrong not to text him, wrong to be away from him and she’s itching to see him again.

It’s no one's birthday this time but they’re all together again to celebrate, no matter the results they’ll see in two days. Aelin is very carefully measuring her excitement about her own nomination for best actress. Fenrys is up for best actor, Rowan best director and the movie best picture.

She’d almost dropped her phone in the toilet when she found out from Dorian a few weeks ago.

The party is small but still in full swing by the time she arrives. Big names from the industry, all in town for the ceremony, are scattered all around Fenrys’ Rifthold apartment. He’d bought a place here not long after Aelin and she’s secretly relieved she’s not the only one so moved by their experience.

She waves to a few people she knows and tries to stay calm when she spots Sartaq Khagan in the corner chatting away to a small group of people. Holy shit Fenrys has some famous friends.

Aelin finds herself a glass, tops her orange juice off with a splash of lemonade and begins her rounds. So many more people want to talk to her after the movie dropped.

Her mother had been one of them, and Aelin’s thumb had hovered over the accept button for a moment before decidedly pressing decline. She had blocked her mother’s number a moment later, and then she had made some calls closing the bank account her mother kept topped up and arranging for every penny she’d ever received from Evalin Ashryver to be paid back.

It had hurt, emotionally and financially, especially in the month she’d moved to Rifthold, but it had been worth it. To never let Evalin pass any judgement over her life again was a relief worth any cost. Aelin’s hoping there’s a possibility she could end up with a reward.

She doesn’t know how long she spends talking to big name after big name and it’s a realisation that drops onto her that she fits in here. Aelin Ashryver is a big name. No matter the outcome of the ceremony she has prospects, already a number of projects lined up and she’s loving every minute of it.

She drains her cup for the third time tonight and heads back into the kitchen. She’s barely seen Fenrys all night, and she doesn’t even know if Manon is here.

She frowns into the fridge, there was definitely a full bottle of orange juice in here the last time she topped herself up. She shuts the fridge and spins around.

“Looking for this?”

She should have known.

Rowan looks predictably gorgeous in the dim kitchen lighting. All tanned skin and silver smiles. He’s dressed in her favourite look of his too, worn denim jeans and a soft cotton shirt.

It’s the softness in his gaze that really takes her though, it seems the animosity from the last time they saw each other has faded if not disappeared. Her chest squeezes at the thought. She has no idea what could have triggered it but she will take it.

“Nope,” she says, stepping over to where he stands with an arm braced against the counter at his side, the other holding out a bottle of orange juice. “I was hoping Fenrys would have some chocolate in there but I guess this will have to do.”

She takes the bottle from him, her fingertips brushing his and she feels her cheeks heat at the innocent brush.

His smile is genuine and she knows what he’s remembering because she’s thinking of it too. The first time she visited his house during filming and their moment in the kitchen. They’ve been through cycles, she supposes, but hopefully now for the better.

“I’m sure we can find you some somewhere in here,” he says as she fills her cup, pulling open the cupboard next to his head.

Aelin smirks. “I’m going to leave the rummaging through Fenrys’ cupboards to you. You could find anything in there.”

Rowan winces, closing the door before returning her smile. This is friendly and the hope that’s been planted in her chest begins to sprout.

“Yeah, maybe not,” he says with a conspiratorial smile. “We wouldn’t want to risk it.”

Aelin pauses for a moment, taking in the glory of him in front of her. He’s still Rowan, he’s still tall and deliciously broad. His silver hair is slightly more grown out and there are a couple more lines around his eyes but she doesn’t care, in fact it’s charming. He’s still and always will be stunning. She takes a sip of her drink before she takes one of her biggest risks so far.

“I’ve missed you,” she says, not daring to look away from his face.

He bites his lip, his tongue darting out to soothe the skin before he speaks. “I’ve missed you too.”

The smile that spreads across her face is all too telling but he’s smiling too so she doesn’t think it matters. He definitely feels the same and she’d be annoyed at the months she spent worrying but the relief is too sweet.

“Good,” is what she says, far too happy they’re here to bother with pretending she’s anything other than ecstatic. “Congrats on your nomination.”

His eyes dart to the floor and then back up at her, he’s too modest about his own skill and Aelin adores it. “Thank you,” he says softly, “you too.”

“Thanks,” she says. “I couldn’t have done it without you. All of you.”

“Me neither,” Rowan says.

He’s close to her now, closer than he has been to her for months and her skin cries out for contact. She almost can’t believe she’s here now, talking to Rowan without any animosity, days before the Oscars that she’s nominated in.

The smile that takes over her face is completely of its own accord. She’s floating and it seems Rowan is too if the beat they share, exchanging incredulous smiles, is anything to go by.

“It’s crazy, right?”

She’s been asking herself the question for so long it seems only natural it slips out to him.

He laughs softly, and the rough sound curls straight to her core.

“Definitely,” he agrees, his voice low. “I don’t think last time felt like this.”

Aelin slaps a gentle hand to his chest and ignores the thrill that shoots through her at the eventual contact. “I get it, this is not your first nomination.”

Rowan rolls his eyes and she didn’t know how much she missed this, playing with him. She adores his reaction every time, the begrudging amusement he only lets shine through to make her smile.

“Some of us have never been nominated before, this is all completely new.” Aelin takes a sip of her drink. “I had to give up my social media accounts to Elide, it got so crazy.”

Something flickers over Rowan’s face at her comment. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she says, her eyes darting across his face trying to decipher the expression. “She’s always had access and I still do so I can post if I want to but it just became a lot. It stopped being fun when I would see what people were saying, whether it was good or bad I don’t want to see it anymore.”

Rowan nods before his eyes lock onto hers, the intensity in his expression shreds her control.

“And you said nothing had changed?”

Aelin gets it now.

She shifts her weight, leaning as close to him as she can without sliding herself completely into the circle of his arms. “I was wrong. Lots of things have changed,” she says, her voice quiet but strong. “And lots of things are now right that weren’t before.”

She doesn’t mean to skirt around the truth, hiding in veiled words and double meanings, but as always, Rowan sees her. He sees her meaning and he smiles. It’s the most beautiful smile Aelin has ever seen him wear.

“I’ve been looking for you two.”

Fenrys bursts into the kitchen, startling Aelin back from Rowan. She hides her guilty smile in her drink and notices Rowan doing the same. Fenrys just grins, clearly enjoying whatever he thinks he’s seeing.

“You’re missing out, we’re playing kings in the living room if you want to join?”

Rowan glances at her before he turns back to Fenrys. “I think we’re good, thanks.”

Fenrys’ smile turns smug and Aelin resists the temptation to flip him off. She’s in too good of a mood to be annoyed at him.

“Okay, see you later, lovebirds,” Fenrys says, already on his way back out of the door.

Aelin pretends she isn’t blushing as she turns back to Rowan, his green eyes shining.

“This might sound crazy,” he says with an alluring tilt to his lips, “but do you want to get out of here?”

She’s reached a point she truly never thought she would.

She’s an Oscar-nominated lead actress in a box-office-record-breaking movie.

She’s happy, healthy and out from underneath the thumb of Evalin Ashryver.

The part that’s most uplifting, the part that has her unable to wipe the smile off her face as she strolls down the streets of Rifthold, is the arm she has tucked through Rowan’s.

They’ve been walking for a little while, enjoying the cool night air and the ease with which they managed to sneak out of Fenrys’ party. Her heels are killing her and Rowan very graciously offers her an arm to lean on and each time she takes a step in time with him she smiles.

“I never thought I’d like doing television,” he says.

She didn’t know he’d taken on a miniseries, similar to the one she’d done after filming, but she’s loving the recap she’s getting of the months they’ve been apart. The chill of the air is more than fought off by the warmth of Rowan by her side. The streets are mercifully empty and she can bask in the knowledge that it’s just the two of them out here, that they’re insignificant, that anyone who sees them will immediately dismiss them.

“I always thought I’d stick to movies, singular stories but I enjoyed it. I guess change can be good.”

Aelin laughs softly and squeezes his arm. He looks down to her, a question written in the slant of his brow.

“Change can definitely be good,” she says as she takes in the sights of the skyscrapers surrounding them. “I would know that I suppose.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I bought a flat recently.”

“You did?”

He’s so graciously giving her the floor to say what she needs to say and she holds his arm even tighter.

“It’s right here in Rifthold.” Aelin avoids his gaze, lest he think it’s a speedy invitation and that that’s all this is. “I bought it just after we were back here for press, I realised that I adore Rifthold and being here. I missed it when I wasn’t here and I don’t feel there’s anything holding me in Orynth anymore.”

Rowan laughs softly, his feet scuffing the floor.

“What?” she demands.

“I swear I’m not following you,” he says and she feels a smile creep onto her face. “I bought a loft here too.”

Aelin gasps. “But your house was gorgeous!”

Rowan’s smile twists as he looks away from her. “I didn’t say I sold the house.”

Aelin cackles as she squeezes his arm, the sound joyous and bright as it echoes around them. “I knew being Mr Big-Name-Director has its perks.”

“It does,” he agrees with a smirk.

Aelin wants to kiss that smirk. Wants to pull him down and twist her fingers through his hair as his own tangle along her skin.

Instead she says, “I copied you somewhat too.”

He only raises a brow.

“I bought a piano like the one in your house. It was too big for my old flat in Orynth and so I knew what I had to do.”

“That’s good,” he says as his arm drops out of hers. She almost pouts until he instead tangles their fingers together. Her smile says it all, reflected back in his own. “You play beautifully.”

“Thank you.” Her cheeks are glowing. “You’ll have to come over and I’ll play for you sometime, neighbour.”

“I’d love to.”

Aelin slows, using the hand tangled with his to pull him to a stop too. Her free hand trails a gentle path up his chest before coming to rest at his collar, her fingertips tracing the golden skin peeking out from his shirt. His free hand finds her waist.

They’re close, closer than they have been in such a long time when he speaks.

“I don’t know what you think has or hasn’t changed.” His hand leaves hers to cup her cheek. “But I still feel the way I used to about you.”

Her heart takes off, pounding within her chest.

“I do too, Rowan.” Some of the easiest words she’s ever said to him. There’s something about the way the streetlights shine through the silver tips of his hair and the way his calloused fingers feel between hers that she’s feeling brave. “I loved you then and I love you now.”

His eyes flicker across her face as his smile dawns, taking over his face as he smiles so brightly. This is all she’s ever wanted, to have a Rowan like this, with pure, unfiltered happiness in his eyes as he looks at her.

“You love me?”

“I do. To whatever end.”

His lips are barely a whisper from hers and she only acknowledges the thought that they’re in public for long enough to realise she doesn’t care.

“And I love you.”

His words are simple, but sweet. They wash over her and settle into her skin as his lips land on hers. He kisses her with what she can only describe as love. His lips pour devotion onto her and his hands light a fire inside her as he tastes her tongue.

They kiss for longer than she can keep a track of, wrapped up together illuminated only by the street lighting. She’s missed this, missed him, and she can’t help but feel right when his hands are on her. She can’t help but feel right as she stretches onto her toes to throw herself into his kiss.

This was never wrong, this was one of the first things she knew was right.

She loves him and he loves her and nothing and nobody else matters.

She doesn’t win the Oscar, and neither does Rowan. Fenrys does and she screams herself hoarse cheering him on as he makes his way to the stage.

The moment that takes the cake is when The Crescent City takes best picture. She takes to the stage with some of her best friends to recognise what they achieved together and maybe she is a soppy shit but she definitely cries. Fenrys laughs at her and Manon grins but Rowan just throws his arm around her shoulders and it's worth it.

Afterwards, she logs into her Instagram account for the first time in a long time. She posts a picture of Rowan looking absolutely delicious with his tux unbuttoned and his bow tie hanging untied around his neck with a greasy burger in one hand and hers in his other.

Posting him is a statement but she doesn’t care. In fact, she wants the world to know. She wants the world to know that nobody does it like he does. Nobody does it like they do.

#rowaelin #nobody does it like you do #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #throne of glass #rowaelin au #ndilyd #i cant believe it's the last part of this fic #crazy #hope you all enjoyed

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voxmortuus · 3 years

Text

Herding The Calf

PAIRING: Hannibal Lecter x F!Reader

UNIVERSE: Hannibal (NBC)

WORDS: 1.1k

WARNING: Sorry if this is a little fast-paced and choppy. I feel like my writing is shit today!

SUMMARY/PROMPT: From a lovely Anon: may I ask for a hannibalxreader? id like Hannibal to try to kidnap reader after stalking them for months (as he is interested in the reader and wants to get closer to them, but the only way he thinks he can make the reader care for him is to make them rely on him for all support, therefore he holds them hostage) but the reader is a good fighter and ends up hurting him pretty good, though he eventually knocks them out and the reader is held hostage in his basement and isn't necessarily afraid, just more aggravated because they're bored and want to do something and every time he visits them they ask for stuff to ease their boredom and what have you I want you to take artistic liberty over this as it is pretty much a summary prompt, just have fun if you write this lol have a nice day!

TW: Language | Mentions of Violence | Hostage | Kidnapping | Stockholm Syndrome

IMAGE CREDIT: Google

My Masterlist | Taglist | REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN

A mess of monkeys was pounding on a steel door with ball-peen hammers. Neon lights flashed on and off fast enough to send any epileptic into a seizure. Looking around, you let out a slight moan. The last thing you remember was getting ready to leave Hannibal's house before your face met the floor. Rubbing your head, you look around.

"You have got to be fuckin' kidding me?" You mutter. Taking in your surroundings, you see a toilet with a privacy wall, a bed that of which you woke up on, a sink, and a stand-up shower... and that's it. "He just couldn't take the hint." You shake your head. You try screaming, but nothing was coming of it. Chances are, this basement was soundproof. You try to walk around but, there is no luck whatsoever; here is a glass wall separating you from the rest of the basement. "GOD DAMN IT! HANNIBAL! WHAT THE FUCK?!" you yell. Frustrated.

He makes his way downstairs and takes a seat in front of your... cell. He sits down, looking at you, wiping his lip from the blood you had caused, clocking him a good one in the jaw. "You're a good fighter, Y/N, you got me good, may have even fractured a few ribs... but, you lost, I'm afraid. I wish you would have just listened, given it a chance." He stated.

"Well, Hannibal, you screwed the pooch on that one now, didn't ya? Couldn't you just take the hint? I wasn't interested. You stalked me! For MONTHS! Yet you always managed to have a god damn alibi when I tried to get the police involved. You need help Hannibal." You told him. Looking over his face, rather proud of yourself. Though you thought a moment, you wanted your money back on those damn self-defense classes.

Hannibal wanted you to need him, to rely on him. This was the only other option. When you left his care, he was insistent that you needed to stay, but you felt like you didn't need him anymore, you were feeling better, you felt like you had accomplished in your mental strength. That, and he was getting far too involved; hence you started putting more distance.

Looking at him, you rubbed your face shaking your head. "Hannibal, just let me go. I won't get the police involved- just- let me go. Please."

He stands up and looks at you. "I will bring you dinner and something to drink." He walks away.

"DAMN IT!" You bang on the glass, angry, and rightfully so. You begin to pace. There's nothing to do, nothing to read, he took your phone. You sigh; sitting on the bed, you put your head in your hands and close your eyes, trying to figure out ways to get out of this.

Day in and day out, you pace, growing bored, growing more frustrated, growing more aggravated and agitated. Looking at the wall, your back facing the glass wall, you sigh. Hannibal comes downstairs and takes a seat in front of the window wall.

"Hello, Y/N. How are you feeling?"

"Annoyed, bored, agitated, fuckin Christ Hannibal, a book, art supplies, something. I can't just sit here, pace and sleep. I need substance in my life, and you're not providing that." You state, facing away from him.

"I can give you books. What else?"

"To be let go."

"I will bring you some books. We will discuss some art supplies later."

You've gone through all six books he had brought down to you, Gone With the Wind, Pride and the Prejudice, The Great Gatsby, To Kill A Mocking Bird, Little Women, and Wuthering Heights. Sighing you had lost track of time, your sleep schedule was likely off, and your eating habits were off, you were losing weight, at least you showered, and he had given you a razor, knowing that you wouldn't harm yourself, so at least you could keep up on your shaving. He gave you clean clothes every day. To some, this wasn't so bad, but to you, it was starting to wear on you.

One night Hannibal had decided to sit in the dark you had no idea he was there. You had gone to sleep. Tossing and turning, cold sweats, you start dreaming.

You're stuck in a cage, hanging above a crowd of people, but there's something wrong with these people; they're sick, ill, bleeding from their eyes, noses, and ears. They're trying to get to you, trying to claw at you, not eat you, but they want to kill you. You see Hannibal in the distance, and you start screaming for him. Your voice goes horse. You begin to panic a little more; you're thrashing about in bed. You shoot up and gasp for breath. "HANNIBAL!" you scream.

Standing up, he walks over to the wall looking at you. "Are you okay Y/N?"

"I had the worst dream. People were trying to claw at me, trying to kill me. They were bleeding from their eyes, noses, and ears... I was in a cage, hanging above them, they started to climb the cage, and you were in the distance. I tried calling for you, but I woke up. It was horrifying." You wrap your arms around your knees and look up at him. "Hannibal, please, let me go. Please." You start to cry.

Tilting his head, he looks at you and shakes his head. "I'm afraid I cannot do that." He turns and leaves.

After a few days, he has brought you some high-quality art supplies, canvas, paints, brushes. You had gotten back in touch with your artistic side, and it was honestly a nice feeling. He would come down and watch you, observe you, and you had grown to like his company. Each day you two would talk a little longer, get to know each other a little better. You two would even have art time together and eat dinners together. He kept you in this glass box, and as time went on, you had grown accustomed to it. He had even given you a cat to keep you company. Things were changing in you.

Over time, you had liked the idea of being with him; it was this feeling of calm over you when you saw him. It was like everything was going to be okay. Fleeing wasn't a thought, not so much anymore- at least. He sits there and looks at you. "Good afternoon, Y/N. How are you feeling?"

"Hannibal, I would like to see the outside. Would you accompany me?"

He smiles and looks over your face. Tilting his head, he looks deep into your eyes and unlocks the door, takes your hand, and brings you out back. The sun hits your face you smile. Looking up at him, you smile again. "What a lovely day." you smile. And your wheels start turning surveying the area, but there was this tiny bit that stopped you; if you ran, and he caught you, your next capture, you could be the next meal.

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duskamethyst · 3 years

Text

covet.

a/n: a remake so some might have read this but i switched up a bit because i wasn't particularly happy with it.

word count: 2.2k

genre: mature, nsfw

warning tags: implied noncon at the end, stalking, yandere behavior

pairing: yan!iwaizumi x f!reader

summary: you find out that you are your best friend's obsession.

iwaizumi has always been a good friend to you; more like a doting brother that’s always looking out for you, cheering you up as he listens to you cry over the phone over a bad and sudden break up or helps you when you need a hand– whether it’s from studying or changing the light bulb and he never expects anything in return. he’s amazing and it’s rather strange that he never had someone special as long as you’ve known him.

you’ve asked him about his love life plenty of times before but he often finds a way to avoid the topic. though it’s unusual, you only think that he probably has a shy side to him despite how tense he usually looks. you couldn’t find anything wrong with him that could drive others away– from his looks to how he treats people around him. and honestly? he is too good to be true.

but when something seems too good to be true, chances are, it really is.

you know iwaizumi more than anyone else– with oikawa as an exception. you cling onto each other almost every day and you often go out together to finish up an assignment. your friends are always poking fun at you about liking iwaizumi whenever you’re with him but you’re always quick to get defensive, afraid of making him feel awkward and also because it isn’t true– you don’t really feel that way about him.

he’s aware that they’re just teasing but he couldn’t help the blush creeping up on his cheeks each time he hears the untasteful joke and his heart breaks over how you get quite uptight about it because boy, he actually feels happy at the thought of you having feelings for him.

as much as you think you know the guy, to iwaizumi, you don’t actually know him.

you don’t know how he feels about you, but he understands that. it’s his fault for not confessing to you directly but he also wants to protect the relationship you both currently have. iwaizumi doesn’t want to ruin it. he doesn’t want the probability of losing you when he knows he’s nothing more to you than just a friend. you don’t know that you’re the only person that fills his mind day and night, jerking off to the image of you before going to sleep. and you don’t know how he spends so many hours at the gym, letting out his anger and frustration to the punching bag when you tell him that you’re seeing someone.

iwaizumi is mindful of the fact that he won’t ever get to be your boyfriend; let alone the one to spend the rest of your lives together and it pains him for having someone so close but couldn’t quite reach for.

little that he realizes, he begins to have an unhealthy obsession over you.

he usually pretends to find interest in your relationships and hookups just so he can use it to his advantage just so that in a couple of months, you will run back into his arms and talk about how sad you are over it and blame yourself about how you aren’t good enough to anyone.

he feels bad when he sees your sorry state. it hurts him more than it hurts you but he keeps reminding himself that even though he is the cause of your breakup, it’s for your own good. of course he can’t say that out loud, he’ll just coax you with sweet words, things you want to hear like how you deserve someone so much better. he will tell you that you should look closer, find that person who has went through thick and thin with you but god– it’s a shame that you’re just so blind.

iwaizumi begins to stalk you at night. using an excuse to ‘watch over you’ when he only wants to see you at your most vulnerable state which he believes to be the ‘real’ you, unraveled. he wants to see how you are when you’re alone and unmindful of the presence of others, including him.

your schedule for your night activities differs each night so he finds himself lucky when he’s just in time to see you strip off your clothes piece by piece until you have nothing on before hopping into the shower. a loud gulp downs his throat when he watches you turn to the full length mirror, bare and perfect ass conveniently facing the window when you observe your figure from the side– probably to see the progress from that work out he has been telling you about.

his jaw clenches at how careless and oblivious you are of your surroundings (but can he really blame you, though?) but it gives him all the more reason to stick close to you so he can protect you. he can already feel his cock throbbing inside his pants and if it’s not for the fact that you don’t know that he’s stalking you, he’d say that you’re purposely teasing him. iwaizumi quickly fishes for his phone and takes the opportunity to take a picture of you.

he can’t help to imagine how you smell like after a nice, long shower. that mere thought alone makes blood rush to his dick. a whiff of you from each time you’re sitting next to him is never enough. he already memorizes your nightly routines; you skip two days to wash your hair, you have a separate towel to wrap your wet hair and the steps of your skin care routine and then you will proceed to turn on the music as you do your assignment on your desk.

that reminds him that he has better things to do too, but he can’t and won’t walk away until he makes sure that you’re asleep peacefully in your room. he wants to make sure that you’re not inviting some guy to your place because who knows who you’ve been texting when you’re not next to him? he still trusts you though, there’s no way you’ll keep it a secret from him. even if you won’t tell him, it’s not like he can’t go through your phone when you leave for the bathroom, and it’s not like you’ll notice the extra face ID in your phone’s settings.

it’s just a precautionary measure, he thinks.

but iwaizumi’s favorite part from his immoral activity is when you’re laying down on your bed, legs spreading as one of your hands disappear between your thighs and lips parting in inaudible whines. the look of your fucked out face as you cum makes his own body flush with primal heat.

if only you’d ask, he’d be more than glad to help you with your sexual needs. he’d give you the best fuck of your life until your little hole can only remember the shape of his fat cock; not anyone nor anything else would make you feel stuffed full and satiated. he often wonders how sweet you’d taste and how nice the sound you’d make when you moan his name.

oh how he wishes that you’re getting off to the thought of him. a guy can only dream.

“iwa, i’m in front of your house!” you say through your phone while pressing his doorbell at the same time. the door opens to a half-asleep iwaizumi, a phone in his hand and another rubs his eyes before inviting you inside.

“were you asleep? jeez, you look bad. did you stay up or something?” you whine, putting your bag down on the couch.

“hah, you could say that,” he snickers. “but you’re early.”

“why not? i bought breakfast too. let’s eat!” you chime as you walk to the kitchen and start to take out the food from the container and place it on the plates.

“sure, i’ll wash up and brush my teeth. hold on.” he mindlessly puts down his phone on the counter and strides to the bathroom.

after setting up the table, you sit down and play with your phone as you wait for him to come out. his phone suddenly vibrates and you glance to see that his mom is calling. you hate to pry but you innocently think that it may be urgent so you run to his room to where the bathroom he’s in.

you can hear the running water through the door, thinking that he would still be inside the bathroom. “sorry, you have a call from your mom so i’m coming in!”

though you’ve been to iwaizumi’s house plenty of times, you’ve never gone inside his room to study or finish up a project and he’d always keep the doors closed while you both do work in the living room. you were never really curious anyway, nothing would be interesting coming from a guy in his 20s. you’re willing to bet that it would just be a messy bed and clothes laying around on the floor.

but you’re dead wrong.

your heart almost drops to the floor as your eyes are greeted with a pair of your own from across the room. it’s placed nicely as if it serves to greet anyone that opens the door to the room. it’s one of your selfies that you posted on instagram from some time ago and it is one of the biggest pictures on the wall so there is no denying that it doesn’t immediately catch your nor anyone’s attention.

he has other pictures posted neatly on the wall, next to where he lays his head on the bed and the biggest one is in the center while the smaller ones surround it, built like a shrine that’s usually made by an obsessive fan for their idols.

as you walk closer, you realize that they are all pictures of you taken when you were idle and your stomach churns when you notice that they are all taken while you’re in your own solitude. it has one of your many expressions, from how happy you looked as you sing to how your face displayed lewd expressions when you were enjoying yourself during your sinful moment.

your breathing starts jagging and the voice inside your head tells you to run. and as you turn your heels around and reach for the exit, a pair of hands suddenly close the door shut in front of you– instantly having you pinned between the door and the tall figure towering from behind you.

the room falls silent for a second, you can hear your own heart pounding in your ears. you quickly try to collect yourself, though not daring to turn and look at him as you speak.

“h-here... your m-mom called.” you extend your arm back so iwaizumi can take the phone from your hand. “i... um... have to go.” you gulp, “i left… my stove on.”

classic, nice going. who even uses that excuse anymore? he’ll never fall for that.

you can feel the hair behind your neck start to prickle when he chuckles from your back. he’s so close, you can feel his breath when he speaks and how his voice echoes throughout the silent room.

“you didn’t even cook this morning.”

“j-just let me go, iwa.” at this point, iwaizumi notices you begin to lose your composure as you try to pull the door open but to no avail as he pushes his arms harder to keep the door closed. damn him and his strong arms.

“i’ll have to thank my mom later for bringing you here.” he laughs, wrapping his arms around your smaller figure and easily lifts you up to his bed before proceeding to trap you underneath his muscular body and grabbing a pair of metal cuffs from the drawer next to his bed.

it’s almost like he has been planning this all along.

“iwa, please– you don’t want to do this.” tears are forming in your eyes as you feel the cold metal graze your skin and hear the locking sound from above your head to restrain your hands from fighting back, as if you would have succeeded in the first place anyway.

“why not?” his grin is maniacal as he watches you wriggle helplessly underneath him. “when i can have you all for myself now? baby, this is all i’ve ever wanted.”

“you– you’re scaring me.” the metal rattles against the headboard as you struggle to free your hands, but of course, to no avail. iwaizumi’s eyes bore through your panic stricken face; your eyes are glazed and he can make up the reflection of himself in them. he feels rather accomplished– he’s finally everything and the only one that you see.

“iwa..” fat tears start to roll down your cheeks as you sob helplessly. iwaizumi seems to be startled a bit, then his face softens.

“how are you so beautiful,” he leans down to kiss both corners of your eyes. “even when you’re crying like this?”

you thrash your head side to side in a sign of protest but he gently cups your face in his large hands so you can look back at the pair of dark eyes that are filled with longing and desperation for you.

“i’m sorry. i’m sorry for making you cry.” he kisses your forehead. “i don’t wanna be like those guys.” he kisses your nose before letting you go and draws himself back to be on his knees.

what once your comfort has quickly become a nightmare. his height and taut physique has never been deemed to be daunting until now; when he’s propped between your legs while his hand reaches down to caress your soft thigh and up to undo the zip of your skirt.

“please, let me make up for it– make you feel better. i promise i can.”

#iwaizumi hajime #hajime iwaizumi #iwaizumi smut #haikyuu smut #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #tw; yandere

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healpeony · 3 years

Text

Love Story

Levi Ackerman x reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; Levi's and Y/n love isn't accepted by many specially Y/n's parents, an Eldian and a Marleyan? a great represention of Persephone's and Hades love.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; profanity, angst, scene of smut (not explicitly described), violence, blood, being called whore (by her mother), homophobia (also used by her mother), spoilers.

Taglist; @icedkoffees

Note; she/her pronouns used for the reader as well as female anatomy. Also I'm using what Isayama said about how Levi would act shy around his crush and him being uncomfortable with sexual intercourse. And I also want to add that I don't know much about what happens when the Marleyans invaded Paradise, and I also added my own thing to help with my plot so this could be call a cannonverse!au.

PERSEPHONE a young women who's innocence was taken from her the moment she was kidnapped by her uncle, who fell in love with her. Despite her mother's (Demeter) attempts to fully get her back right away from the hands of her brother, it was too late that wasn't going to happened not after Hades persuaded Persephone to eat four seeds of pomegranate, which forced someone to have a connection with their captor, making them come back to them.

Each spring time Persephone would be living with her mother on earth, while in winter she was with Hades in the underworld.

Levi was the Persephone to Y/n's Hades, she being the one who used him and their love for each other was the pomegranate making Levi come back to her.

It's ironic how their love story started with y/n getting taken away from Marley, a place she called home.

Even though she wasn't necessarily kidnaped, she was sent away to accomplish a mission in a place called Paradise, she found it ridiculous how it was named that way when that land was full of devils.

Y/n was shipped to Paradise along with the warriors. She was going to infiltrate into the Survey Corps where she would hopefully sabotage every expedition without getting caught.

Her mission was to make sure none of the warriors get too cozy in the foreign place, and to focus on their mission, but it was impossible to do so when all the people who were described as devils, were actually just like them. Humans.

She was older than those kids being 22 when they were still 15, y/n loved them, they were like little siblings to her and it hurt when they lost Marcel, the jaw.

"Oi brat! Stay focused" the voice of her captain took her out of her train of thoughts

Captain Levi, he was called humanity strongest and was also what everyone called their only hope. At first Y/n didn't understood why he needed such a big tittle, but after being in his squad and witnessing him showing his skills and his hatred towards titans, she got why.

"I'm sorry captain" she saluted, which was dismissed by him

"You called what you did back in the kitchen, cleaning?" he asked pointing towards the place he just mentioned "There is dust everywhere, go and clean everything again, I don't want to see any dust in there again. That's where our food is made, you idiot"

Without another word he left, and when she felt like he was out of earshot, she kicked a chair, breaking it. He might be Humanities strongest, but he was soo irritating, so obsessed with cleaning. That's what they always did for the most part of their time.

"there is dust everywhere my ass" she mocked Levi's voice while looking around the kitchen she just finished cleaning minutes ago

She had made sure everything was left without a spot of dust, how in the world did Levi saw dust anywhere.

After she had cleaned the kitchen area, Levi had send her to clean the stables which took a lot of time since he told her to clean alone. It was already sun down when she had finished.

She was exhausted, her clothes were pooled with sweat and glued to her skin making her uncomfortable, she really needed a shower.

"Go take a shower" the sudden voice of the raven man scare the hell out of her

"Fuck Captain!" y/n yelled, putting a hand on her chest as if that would calm her speeding heart beat

"Go now, and then come to eat dinner with us" he continued, the blank stare he gave her when they made eye contact given her chills

"Yes, sir" she saluted, before leaving

The mess hall was well a mess, the cadets eat like animals. The same soup and bread they always eat, Y/n found it extremely annoying how the Military Police get all the meat when the Survey Corps were the ones doing the only brave work inside the walls.

"Y/n if you're not going to eat your soup can I have it?" Sasha asked

Oh, how much she wanted to say no, but she had a reputation to hold and she didn't want the soup anyway.

Y/n faked a smile, (one that everyone thought that was genuine) before saying "of course, Sasha" passing the bowl full of hot soup to the girl

"Thanks!"

Y/n felt how eyes were burning through her skull and turned her head to look down the table, just to see Captain Levi staring at her with a suspicious look in his eyes.

Oh shit, if he in some way found out about who she really was, she was fucked. The young women tried her best to stay seated, but her nerves didn't let her making her stand up.

"I'm exhausted, I think I'm going to sleep"

It wasn't a lie she was tired from all the cleaning, but she didn't want to sleep, she just needed to desperately get out of there.

When she was finally outside, y/n leaned against the wall, sliding down while taking a deep breath.

"You know, it isn't good to fake smile to your friends"

Y/n immediately turn around at the sudden voice of her captain, he did it again, he scared the living shit out of her.

"Captain!, Stop doing that!" her face felt warmer than usual for some reason

Was she blushing?

"Why did you do it? Are you sad?" Levi asked putting down a handkerchief on the ground before sitting next to her, looking over at her examinating her face

"Oh it's just stress" Y/n replied, praying that he would just believe her

"I see.." he turned towards the sky where the moon shined brightly along with the stars

What Y/n thought that would be a awkward silence, turned into a comfortable one. They just stared at the sky above them, it remind Y/n that she had a family waiting for her outside the walls and she was not going to disappoint them by getting comfy with the captain, even though she didn't know what his intentions were.

"I'm going to take a nap" she stood up, and called over her shoulder "Have a good night, captain" before proceeding to walk towards her room

"Good night, cadet..."

Y/n didn't know when it happened, was it when they continued sitting together and looking at the sky in complete silence, or was it when in some of those same nights they spoke more and more about each other's personal life (in none of those conversations she mentioned Marley, but still talked about her family). She didn't remember how her feelings for him changed, but they did.

Right now she was there, in the same spot on the wall with Levi next to her. They were even in first name basics with each other.

The raven man cleared his throat catching her attention, turning her head to the side to look at him she noticed how he was blushing.

"I.. I think is pretty obvious what I feel for— about you by now"

A surprised noice escaped Y/n mouth, she expected to have that talk with him some day, but not today or Levi being so straight forward with the subject.

The women could only nod, her brain still processing what he just said.

"I was wondering, if you felt the same.." his voice dropped to a whisper, while he looked down

"No" she shaked her head, making Levi looked up at her eyes widened with embarrassment at the rejection "Look, Levi.. it's just that I have done terrible things that you're not aware of. You don't want to be with me"

"Then tell me what terrible things you have done and let me be with you after your done" Levi said

"No, Levi you don't understand" tears pooled in her eyes, y/n didn't even remember the last time she had cry "I can't be with you"

"Why? Is it because of the terrible things you have done? Well guess what everybody has their own flaws, everybody in this world is an angel, at least until they get tired of the cruelty in it and let the demons take over" Levi grabbed her face between his hands, wiping the falling tears from her face "I want to be with you, wether you have let your demons take over or not"

Y/n felt the man lean in to place his lips to hers, they stayed pressed together without movement, before Levi pull away and kissed her again this time letting his emotions be known through the kiss.

Passion. Love. Care.

This is a moment in her life she would never forget not even when hers and the warriors mission is over.

Retaking of wall Maria

"I let you. I fucking let you in!"

Levi stood infront of her heartbroken, she told him, now he knew everything..

"Levi-" however she wasn't able to continue speaking since she received a kick right in the face making her fall on her side

She looked at Levi surprised, he had kicked her. Y/n knew she deserved, but it still hurt to have someone you loved hit you.

"You lied about everything didn't you? For what, to get information?" his voice was cracking slightly with each word he said "Was it necessary to use me for your stupid plans?"

"I didn't use you!, What I felt for you was real" y/n said defending her feelings

"I don't even know what is real about you anymore, is Y/n actually your name? Or is it just another lie?"

"It is my name.." she weakly murmured tasting blood in her tongue, she figured that her lip might have been split open from the impact

"Oh good to know"

Sarcasm tried to cover his hurt voice, which actually didn't work, since Y/n could clearly hear his shaky breath and it made her feel soo guilty.

"I hate you"

Those three little words were enough to make her world come crashing down, he hated her. Of course he did, it hurt so much but she had seen this coming, and she still didn't felt ready for it.

"I'm sorry, Levi"

That was all she said to him, before she was grabbed by a titan being controlled by Zeke, taking her away from the place where she meet someone who meant so much to her.

One thing that she was sure of was that

She will never forget Levi Ackerman.

Screams, that was what was heard everywhere. Kids either with their parents or alone were running desperately trying to find shelter, and that broke Y/n's heart.

She was tired of all the fighting, she was tired of pretending to be stronger than she felt. For once she just wanted peace and happiness, something that she didn't quite have the past four years.

How did they got here? That was one of the many questions going through her head, but one that she paid more attention to was the most important

Was he here too?

"There you are, piece of shit."

That voice, it was him. It might have changed, but she could recognize it everywhere, the same voice who used to startle her everytime they saw each other, the voice that bought her comfort, the voice of the man she fell in love with.

It was Levi.

Slowly she proceeded to turn around, the fear for what might happen next running through her veins. She was ready to be killed by him.

Finally she look up and saw the same man she fell in love with, the only change that she saw was the uniform, apart from that he still seem like he had the same height as before and from the look on his face he still had the same temper.

"Nice uniform, I like it" she told him quietly not knowing what to say

Levi scoffed at her statement, taking his blade out. So he was going to kill her.

"You can go ahead and kill me, might as well add another ghost to haunt you"

Did she felt fear? Yes she did, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing it.

"Shut up" that was his response, before he connected his blade with her cheek leaving a long but not deep cut "You're going to come with me"

"I'm not going anywhere!"

The last thing he told her was that he hated her, why would he want her to come back to Paradise?, Was it to use her for information? Or because he missed her? It was stupid to think of the latter question, but she was still hopeful.

"I'm not asking, you brat"

That was the last thing she heard before he knocked her out.

"How could you be with a devil?!"

Her mom's scream hurt her eardrums, Zeke had told them about how she had been in a relationship with a so call devil. That seem like the only thing Zeke could do apart from throwing rocks, snitch.

"You were send there for a reason Y/n! No child of mine should've or should be with one of those devils!"

"Mother, I'm so sorry it's just that it would be easier for me to get the information about them that I wanted"

That was a lie. She loved Levi, even though she didn't get the chance to say it to him. She did, and that feeling wasn't going to go away anytime soon.

Her father stood next to her mother quietly looking at her with disgusts as if she was the trash people get rid of because of the smell, she hated that, it hurt to have your own parents hating on you.

"So what? For a piece of information, you had to go and whore yourself in there?"

Y/n gasped looking at her mom shocked "What? No mother, I didn't do anything like that with him!" she argue

That wasn't a lie, Levi was uncomfortable with sexual intercourse, since his own mother worked in a brothel and he had been the witness of how much that act hurt his mother, he had trusted her enough to tell her that.

"Good, you still have your purity." her mom nodded, before letting out a sigh "At least it wasn't with a women, you would've been completely kicked out of this house young lady"

"Now go take a shower, make sure to wash away every memory in that land while doing so." her mom smiled softly her hand reaching out to touch her cheek, before hugging her "My poor baby, having to live with those devils for so long. Don't worry you're home now, you're safe with us"

What once was her home didn't feel like home anymore, her house was just a place, her home was the person she left behind in Paradise.

Y/n didn't remember how many days have passed or what was going on outside of her cell. She didn't know in what prison she was in, but just a few days ago it had seem like there was a whole damn war going on outside.

She hasn't seen Levi since he put her into the cell, and she was scared that something might have happened to him. She heard the door of the corridor open, Y/n stood up walking towards the bars to see who it was, it was Hange.

"Y/n" Hange nodded at her as if they were saying hi "He said your name, so we think it would be good if you saw him"

"Who are you talking about?" Y/n asking looking at them confused

"Levi"

Her heart immediately speed up, something happened to him. Her anxiety grew each passing second as she took step by step through the halls, Hange having a hold of her arm to make sure she didn't try to run away.

"What happened to him?" Y/n questioned scared for what the answer might be

"Explosion" was all they said, before entering a room that seems to be Levi's, there was only a nurse sitting in a chair probably just there just in case Levi needed something

"Thanks, you can stand outside. We would call if we need you" Hange told the nurse who nodded and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her, but not before throwing Y/n a look of disapproval about her being there.

Y/n ran to Levi's side as soon as the nurse was out, he had bandages in one side of his face, and on his hands. Tears started sliding down the young women's cheek while Hange looked at her with pity, but also cautiously not wanting her to do anything that might hurt Levi.

"Levi.." she whispered, even though

y/n felt bad about disturbing him from his sleep knowing how difficult it was for him to do so, she wanted to hear his voice, reassuring her that he was going to be ok "Everything it's going to be fine, right Hange? Tell him"

“Yeah, I agree with you y/n”

She didn't knew who she was trying to convince herself or Levi, but that didn't matter, because she felt a squeeze in one hand and immediately look down to see that Levi was the one holding it. Y/n look back up to his face seeing how his eye was open and he was staring directly at her.

Y/n smiled "Hey darling, you're okay now" she let out those word between sobs "— I'm sorry for everything Levi, for not telling you where I was really from, for letting you fall in love with me when I knew how it was going to bed. I'm so sorry for every misery that I have put you through"

Levi squeezed her hand again "- 's ok, I f—orgive you" his words came out has a whisper and he struggled to speak but she heard him clearly

Hange watched the scene playing out infront of them, they could see how much those two loved each other. They were like a puzzle, that could figure each other out, knowing each piece of themselves like the back of their hands.

It has been a month and a half exactly since Y/n had seen Levi in the bed witnessing how helpless he looked, she had never seen him like that and wasn't planning to anytime soon, since then she hadn't left his side.

He was currently touching her bare back leaving kisses down her neck, their naked chest pressed together, hot and sweaty.

"Levi..." she moaned softly

This was their first time being intimate, and she didn't want him to feel pressured into anything.

"I know what you're going to say, and I want to how much as you" he said before continuing marking her, claiming her as his

Each move of his hips against hers, reminded her of who she was with. The gentleness in his touch making her forget about the world around them. The softness of his lips against hers taking her breath away.

It wasn't just the pleasure that made Levi take the decision of doing this with her, this was his own way of showing how far he would go just to be with her, to come out of his comfort zone just to shower her with intimate kisses and touches that he and neither would she forget.

“I love you Levi”

Her skin was the canvas, and his lips was the brush painting each part of her body.

“I love you too...”

“You will come back with us immediately young lady!" her mother said trying to remain calm infront of the devils

The rumbling was over, Eren Yeager was killed. Paradise and Marley were allies, but that doesn't mean they have forgiven each other for what each have done. Many Marleyans and Eldians from Marley came to visit out of curiosity, while people from Paradise went to explore the world (if we are talking about visiting the outside world and finding new things as much as possible), but they never want to visit Marley afraid that they might get turn into titans and angry for what those monsters have done to other people.

"I'am old enough to make my own decisions, mother" Y/n had answered, wanting to remain as calm as she could

"His manipulating you isn't he?"

"How dare you!—" Y/n yelled, before regaining her composure, her voice going back to calm but being loud and firm at the same time "I love him, he didn't manipulate me into anything. It's bold of you to assume that, mother"

"We're your family, your place it's with us!"

Some of the Military Police who were there scoffed along with some of the scouts, they have warmed up to Y/n already, but the Marleyans didn't seem to accept that one of themselves loved an Eldian, specially from Paradise.

"You're my family? Then where were you when I needed you the most?, All I needed when I returned to Marley four years ago was my mother!, The one who an illusion of my mind created, a sweet mom who would love me for being her child, and not see me as an object" Y/n couldn't remain calm anymore she needed to let everything out "— The time I spent with him, I got to truly know what comfort was, what being loved and being needed felt like! And you—" with tears in her eyes she turned to her father who was quiet, like he always was "You're so afraid of mom that you don't even dare to speak for yourself!, You did nothing to help your own daughter!, You just watched as she was raised to be something she didn't want to be!"

She spoke out her mind finally letting out those built up words that haunted her, needing to be said "— I thank you for everything though, despite not given me the love that I needed, your own choices took me to where we are now. Without those decisions, I wouldn't have met Levi so I thank you, for what you both did" she smiled at them

Her mom stood there quietly, before turning around and walking towards the door, her father following close behind "Don't bother returning home" was all her father said

"I won't"

She was already home, she was standing next to it. Holding his hand, Levi Ackerman was the safe place she will always and forever need.

“— And they lived happily ever after”

Y/n closed the book, looking at the twins, her daughter and son who had fallen asleep half way through the story.

“Please tell me you didn't read to them the explicit parts”

The voice of her husband scared her and she turned to him, who stood by the door leaning into it.

“Of course not you idiot!”

She stood up turning off the lamp and given both of the children kisses on their head, before going out of the room with Levi.

“I still think we should publish this book” Y/n smirked, a mischievous look in her eyes

“Absolutely not”

Yeah, their Love Story had a happy ending after all.

This was so much fun to write! I wrote 4k words and I'm proud of that! I feel like my writing has improved in the past few days, and this might be one of the works that will show it, and I hope future ones show the progress too! Also I want to punch y/n's mother in the face.

Thank you so much for reading, you can support my work by hitting reblog or liking! But don't repost to other platforms!

#levi ackerman angst #levi ackerman x reader #aot oneshots #shingeki no kyoujin #snk spoilers #attack on titan #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman #blood #homophobia #profane #aot angst #aot x reader #levi ackerman smut

256 notes · View notes

imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 3 years

Text

Together

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 1.4 K

Requested by anon: Hey! I see your requests are open and you write for Billy Hargrove. I've just recently had a miscarriage, and it's been seriously difficult to cope with. I was wondering if you could write something with Billy reacting to the reader having a miscarriage, and just super soft/understanding Billy making sure the reader knows she's still loved and he's not going anywhere. Soft Billy for his girl protecting her from the world. Thank you!

Summary: You had a miscarriage, and you're scared to tell Billy.

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

The house is silent. And terribly cold.

You've been sitting on the floor for... Seconds? Hours? Maybe even days. Time is just a blur, as is the wall across from you. And your heart is scattered around this bedroom floor, crushed into pieces.

The smell of blood is making you sick.

Your hands are covered in it, but your inner thighs are worse.

Still, you can't move.

But maybe you should. Maybe staying still isn't the right thing right now. You should pack your things and leave. Leave before he comes back.

Billy rescued you. You were both young when it happened, only something about six months after eighteen. You both lived in a nightmare, and while he got out, you were still stuck. Your parents said you'd only get to go anywhere else when you found yourself a husband.

So Billy gave them exactly what they wanted.

He took you to Indianapolis, in his Camaro, where you got married.

Then you only got back home to show your parents the papers. After that, you were off, never looking back.

You and Billy found good jobs, and rent a nice house in California. Life was amazing until it happened. Until your period was late and you bought a pregnancy test.

That was when you finally understood how much Billy wanted kids. He wants to be different from his father. He wants to love and care for them and protect them...

And you're young and healthy. What could go wrong?

Looking down at your lap, at your ruined light green dress, thighs, and hands, you don't even feel the tears rolling down anymore. Or the cold, or the floor underneath you.

You're numb. Lost. Broken. Destroyed.

You should leave.

Billy has suffered enough, and he wanted this baby so much. You can't believe you'll hurt him like this. You promised you'd never hurt him. Now, look at you.

But you can't quite understand what happened. You did everything right. You visited the doctors, you changed your diet, everything. You did everything right.

A noise makes your heart beat faster.

Billy went to the market to buy something you can't remember.

But you're not ready yet.

You can't face him yet. Maybe never again.

So you move like a lightning bolt, crawling to the door, locking it before returning to your corner between the toilet and the cabinet.

Hugging your knees, you cry as you hear the footsteps. You should've left.

“(Y/N)?” He calls, and you hold your breath as if it could make you disappear. “I got the brownies you were craving for.”

“T-thanks.” You mutter, trying your best to sound normal. But the moment you speak, you know you failed.

“(Y/N), what happened?” His voice already changed, heavy with worry. Soon enough, he's knocking on the door.

“I-I'm alright. I'll... I'll be o-out in a minute.” Looking around, at all the blood, you bite back a sob. You don't know what to do. How to clean yourself. You don't even know if you can't get up.

“(Y/N), you're scaring me. Open up.” He asks, turning the handle.

“I-I'm alright, Billy. Just... Just g-give me some time.” Then, you break down, tears rolling down and sobs bursting out. “Just leave me be! Just leave me the hell alone!”

“Alright.”

You have no time for relief, because on the next moment the door is knocked open, and Billy comes in.

And the look on his face when he finds you, a broken mess, covered in blood on the bedroom floor destroys whatever's left of you.

“Go away, Billy!” You yell, voice cracking as you pull your legs closer to your chest, trying to disappear. “Please, please.”

With your eyes tightly close, you sob, pulling the skirts of the dress to cover up your legs and the blood.

After some seconds of silence, you're sure he left, but suddenly, an arm is pulling you. And you're too weak to resist, so you just move, almost involuntary, arms finding their way around his neck. You can feel he's crying too, sobs shaking his body.

“I-I'm sorry. I lost the baby. I lost our baby.” You stutter, pushing him away. “I'm so sorry, I... I don't know what happened, I don't know what I did t-to cause it, Billy. I-I know how much you wanted t-this baby, I'm so sorry.” The sobs keep coming, it doesn't matter how hard your try to control them.

Billy cups your face, thumb wiping some tears away, but soon enough more come to replace them. “(Y/N), listen to me now.”

“No, Billy. I-if you want t-to leave me, it's alright.” Taking his hand off your face, you hold it. But then you realize you are covered in blood, so you sob again, letting go. “I know how much you wanted this baby, a-and I know what it means to you to be a father and I'm–”

“My love, don't say that.” He cuts you off, taking your dirty hands on his. “I'm... I'm heartbroken too, but I won't leave you.”

“But–”

“No buts.” He says again, moving to sit against the wall, pulling you closer. “I... I'll forever miss our baby.” There are tears on his face, too many to count. You've never seen Billy cry.

“I-I did everything right. I... I don't know what happened.” You're just repeating yourself now, but what else is there to say? It's not your fault, but you feel like it is. One of the first things you knew about Billy after you started dating, was that he wanted kids. “W-what if I can't give you kids?” And you burst into tears again, shoulders shaking violently. “It's alright i-if you want to leave, Billy. It's alright.”

Billy pulls you to him, so you lay on his chest as he keeps you secure in his arms. “(Y/N), I won't leave you. I love you and you're the only woman I want to have kids with. You will be the mother of my children.”

“But what if–”

“We'll see a doctor. Find out what happened and try again. And if, only if you can't... We'll adopt.” With his index finger under your chin, he makes you look up into his eyes. There's a smile on his lips, it's sad and small, but it warms your heart. “One way or another, we'll have a family. Well, we are a family, you and I.”

“So you're not... Angry at me?” You ask in a low voice, wiping some more tears away.

“Of course not.” His forehead touches yours, and you close your eyes. “I love you. Our loss will be with us forever because this baby is our child. He or she is gone, but they'll be alive in us.”

“How do we move from this?” Grabbing the collar of his jacket, you hide your face on his neck.

“Together, love. We move on together. I don't know when, but as long as I have you, I know things will be ok.”

“I love you, Billy. And I'm so–”

“I wasn't your fault.” Rubbing the small of your back, Billy lightly touches your leg. “Let's hit the shower, I'll help you clean up.”

“Alright.” You whisper, allowing Billy to help you to your feet.

He slowly helps you out of your clothes before taking care of his own. You try not to look down, not wanting to see the blood. But Billy takes care of it, rubbing body wash on your hands and then on your legs until your clean. Then he just holds you, your head on his chest under the warm spray of water.

“I don't know what I'd do without you.” You confess, your voice only a little louder than the water falling so he can hear you.

“You won't ever have to find out, princess. It's you and I, now and forever.” Lifting your face, Bily bends over to place a kiss on your lips. It's wet and passionate, slow and sweet. “Whatever happens, you'll always have me.”

“Thank you, Billy.” Managing to offer him a quick, small smile, you peck his lips. “Can we stay like this a while longer, please?”

“As long as you want.” He assures you, strong arms keeping you close to his body.

The pain is real, and it suffocates both of you. But as you both fall apart, you pick the pieces back up, one by one. And as long as you have him, you know you'll figure things out. And whatever comes next, you'll walk right through it, and you'll overcome.

@multific @nope-thanks @nikkixostan @shinydixon

#imagine billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargove x reader #billy stranger things #stranger things imagine #imagine stranger things

669 notes · View notes

imerdwarf · 3 years

Text

It's A Bad Day, Not A Bad Life

Requested by anonymous: Hello my love! Could I send in a request please where Bucky and reader are just friends and he's like her big brother, she has a breakdown one day and just crumbles in his arms? Preferably with beefy!Bucky because I love how soft you write him tyvm 🥰

Pairing: Beefy!Bucky X Reader

Warnings: Slight angst, bad days, soft cuddles, soft beefy Bucky 🥰

Word Count: 1,117

Author's Notes: Thank you very much dear anon for this sweet and soft request! I hope you like it and let me know if you want me to change anything 💜 thank you so much my dear friend @jobean12-blog for the wonderful ideas and for reading this over for me 🥺💜

It's just a bad day, not a bad life. That's what everyone kept telling you today, what they failed to understand however, it really did feel that way. It just seemed like it was one of those days where everyone had decided to pick you to yell at and call you endless names the entire day. Everything that could have gone wrong, did go wrong, today of all days.

It started with work. You were running a good five minutes late but you did apologise when you arrived at the office, your boss immediately summoned you to his office where he proceeded to lecture you about the importance of time keeping.

Then, when were allowed to sit down at your desk, your computer was broken and you had to do everything by hand. Ron, the coffee man spilled hot black coffee over the files on your desk which prompted another lecture from your boss about clumsiness. Of course, it was all your fault because it always was according to your boss.

If work wasn't good enough, you and your best friend Wanda ended up getting into a huge fight over something stupid during lunch. She wanted you attend her engagement party but she had picked a date and time you just knew your boss wouldn't give you the day off for. You had to decline, which angered her and then started to call you the most careless friend in the world. That was like a stab wound straight to your heart.

"It's a bad day, not a bad life. Don't cry dear." A dear old woman said to you as she passed you in the street. You nodded and walked back to your workplace with your head hung low and furiously wiped the tears away.

It was just so difficult to keep the escaping tears at bay during the rest of your workday. Nobody checked on you to see if you were okay and you honestly couldn't tell if it was for the best.

Those three simple words, 'are you okay', can break down a dam in seconds and you certainly didn't wish to start crying your heart out in the middle of the office.

Just before the day was over, the storm clouds rolled in and heavy rain drenched the city. It was just your luck that today of all days you had forgotten to bring a jacket.

It was just perfect. Now all you needed really was a nice big bird to fly over and drop a shit on your head.

Work was finally over, and you wasted no time in packing up your things and heading out of the day without saying goodbye to any of your colleagues or boss. You just wanted to go home, you needed to go home.

You knew at home your best friend, your defacto brother would be there waiting for you with a hot pan of soup heating up on the stove and making sure the apartment was nice and warm for your return. Bucky always took care of you, he was simply someone you couldn't live without.

The walk to the apartment seemed to happen in slow motion despite only being a couple of blocks away. The heavy downpour soaked through your clothes which made them stick uncomfortably to your skin. The rain puddles splashed up against pants with each step you took, soaking your soaks and making little lakes in the bottom of your shoes.

Bucky had just finished the cleaning before he warmed some hot soup up on the stove. The rain was pounding down by now and he was concerned for you because your jacket was still hung up on the coatrack by the door.

He made sure the apartment would be nice and toasty before you got in and he turned your electric blanket on.

His senses picked up your thundering footsteps on the stairs. The nearer you got, the louder they became that they became almost deafening.

You turned the doorknob and pushed it a bit too hard that the doorknob put a hole through the wall.

"Hi." Bucky chuckled at the wall, pulling the door away and inspecting the damage. "I'll repair it, again." He joked with a smile which fell off his lips when he saw the state of you.

Your shoulders were slumped and your clothes weighed heavily on your body as you slipped your two ponds off your feet, water seeping out from the bottom and puddling on the wooden floors.

"Sorry." You whimpered before bringing your hands over your face and crying into the palm of your hands. A warm body engulfed you from the front, Bucky pulled your hands away and you wrapped them around his waist instead. Your wet clothes soaking his, but neither of you cared about it right now.

Bucky's large hands rubbed your back and you cried into his chest. He kissed your wet hair and sighed.

"It's okay doll. I'm here, I'm always here for you." Your grip tightened and so did his.

You don't know how long the two of you stood like that for. It could have been for a few minutes, a few hours, but when you were in his arms it seemed like time had stopped altogether.

You pulled away with a sniff and a wet chuckle when you looked at the state of his shirt.

"I'm sorry about your shirt," your voice came out gravely from all the crying you did. Though it didn't solve anything, it still felt good to have that weight lifted. "I just had the worst day and my boss yelled at me twice and I just- I'm sorry."

"Doll," Bucky turned serious and grabbed your hands, "stop apologising. It's not your fault, you don't have to apologise for everything. It's almost as if you're apologising for being human. Your boss is a jerk and you wait until I see him..." Bucky balled his left hand into a fist and shook it slightly, "that guy isn't gonna have any teeth and he'll be apologising to you." You laughed and shook your head, thankful to have such an amazing friend and brother figure.

"Thank you Bucky, you're the best."

"Of course I am. If there was an award for the best roommate-slash-friend-slash-brother, I'd win it."

You agreed, "Of course you would!" You gave him a smile and your world seemed to be a better place.

"There's that smile I like to see. Listen, go and take a hot shower, throw on some dry clothes, we'll eat and watch movies in your bed with your electric blanket, sounds good?"

"Sounds amazing!" You grinned and started to walk into your bedroom to grab some dry clothes when he called your name, "yeah?"

"What's your boss's number?"

200 notes · View notes

everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

❛ MAYANS MC AND THE WET DREAM ❜

with the whole crew.

Request: none, just me writing different drabbles to give you a good night.

Warnings: this is pure smut and dirty language, and I'm not sorry.

Word count: about 3.5k

Aurora says: I don't know where it came from. This writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to the author

Masterlist.

✨ ANGEL REYES

“Hey! Hey! Mi dulce, wake up, wake up!”

Growling and trying to slap his hands, you finally wake up covered by sweat and your breath shaking. Sitting up on the bed, you let a sob escape from your lips, rubbing your face under his attentive and confused look.

“Are you okay…?”

“Fuck… I was having the best dream of my life…”

“Wait… Were you having a… dirty dream?” He frowns feeling his insecurities running through his body, with parted lips. “With who? It wasn't with me? I don't satisfy you enough? Are we gonna break? Oh, shit. I know I've been working too much this past we—”.

“Angel, calm down”. You can't help but chuckle when you find him hyperventilating about having an anxiety attack. “I was riding you on top of your bike”.

The oldest Reyes stares at you in silence for some seconds.

“Oh…” He just says, before getting up from your bed to pull you up grabbing your wrist.

“Angel, wha—”.

“Shit, I'm gonna fuck you so hard on top of it, that tomorrow I'm gonna have to change the shock absorbers”.

The last thing you could imagine, when you woke up this morning, was ending the day making real that sexual fantasy.

“Fuck… ride my cock, mi dulce”. The man gasps, with his hands nailed on your hips, bouncing on top of him without caring about losing the balance. “Shit, mami… You're so fucking wet only for me. You drive me fucking insane”.

“Angel… make me cum just like… you did in my dream”. You beg him almost touching his lips.

“Fuck, yes, baby”. He just says, moving one of his hands to stroke your needed clit with his thumb, with his eyes fixed on yours. “Do you like it, ah?”

“Yes, baby… Yes… Just like that”. You're try to contain your loud moans, stuck in your throat, hoping that no one finds you fucking in the middle of the street and on top of his Harley. “Fuck… I love your cock… I fucking swear it, baby”.

✨ CHE “TAZA” ROMERO

“Buenos días, mi amor”. You say coming into the kitchen, stretching your arms to the rooftop, before leaning to kiss his cheek and hug him for a second.

Wrinkling your nose somewhat confused, watching your husband looking at you with a naughty smile, you pour some coffee in a mug. Resting your back against the counter, you narrow your eyes in front of him trying to figure out what it's going on inside his head.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Did you have a good night?”

“Yes…” You reply, having a sip.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes”. You answer by inertia.

“Did I do it right?”

“Yes”. You actually don't process the question, doing it when Taza spits his coffee all over the table. “Did you have a wet dream with me, mi amor?”

The man is drowning between laughs, cleaning his mouth with a napkin, before getting up from his chair.

“I bet you already know what happened last night”.

“Nah, talk to me about it”. He says walking towards you, like a hungry wolf after finding his prey.

“And, why don't I show you?” You ask, putting away the mug, to support your palms on the counter to sit on it.

Taking off your shirt and pulling down your panties by your thighs, you let both pieces of clothing fall to the floor. His eyes are burning in lust, kneeling and knowing exactly what you want. Placing your legs over his shoulders, the man tours your wet lips with the tip of his tongue, thrusting two fingers inside you. Your right hand goes instinctively to his head, when his mouth begins to devour your pussy really hungry of it.

“Oh, fuck, Che…” You moan arching your back, pinching one of your nipples, feeling how delighted he's working you.

The apache knows exactly how you like it, speeding up the moves of his hand, and his lips sucking your clit before pulling it out softly among them.

✨ EZEKIEL “EZ” REYES

“Hm…” You gasp unconsciously under EZ grip, stirring softly.

You start to feel somewhat awake when you feel his sleepy kisses on your head, holding you close.

“A nightmare?”

“Yeah… you were ripping off my clothes”. You mutter rubbing your ass back against his crotch.

“Fuck, lemme be your Freddy Krueger, baby”.

Chuckling and yawning, Ezekiel pulls down his boxers enough to free his semi-hard dick, touring your thighs under the shirt to take off your panties. You're already wet because of him, tucking himself inside you slowly, moaning right into your ear while curling one of your legs to have more space. You can feel how his cock grows inside you, clenching your tightness so pleasantly that makes you moan loud with every pound to your limits.

“Harder, baby…” You beg almost with a sob, tangling your fingers around his forehands, to push him closer.

“I'm gonna make you scream, mi reina”. He replies, hitting you deeper, right to your g-spot. “Shit… look how good your pussy takes me, baby… always so fucking needed and ready for my cock”.

“Fuck… Choke me, daddy”. You groan almost crying.

His right hand grabs your throat, with his digits squeezing your skin, while his lower abdomen collides wildly against your ass, uttering a dry and dirty sound that floods your room.

“My fucking god, Ezekiel!” You scream out closing your eyes, when his other hands goes down to your clit, caressing it with the same fast.

“That's it, baby… Scream for daddy”.

✨ GILBERTO “GILLY” LOPEZ

“Shit!”

You wake up suddenly on the copilot seat, with your breath shaked, having to pull down the window looking for some fresh air. Your heart is racing, hoping you didn't make a single sound, drowning in shame. Gilly breaks into laughs, stopping the car by a side of the desert road, feeling your face burning. You don't want to look at him, hearing his seat belt being undone before yours. With two fingers on your chin, he urges you to turn around, crashing your lips with his chuckling.

“About what you were dreaming, mami?”

“Hm… nothing…”

“Really? You looked like… you were enjoying it”.

“Maybe… I was dreaming… with you”.

“Yeah, I know it…”

One of his hands travels the fabric of your jeans, reaching your core to press it, moving his fingers over it to feel the heat that emanates from your pussy.

“Sucking your dick”. You heavily gulp, watching him laughing softly.

“Why don't you… make your dream come true, ah?”

The man puts apart his hand to unzip his jeans, biting your lips and licking them, before leaning down to taste the reddened glans with a huge hand getting tangled on your hair. You were desiring it, swallowing his hard cock until it presses your throat.

“Fuck, mami… Hold it there”. Gilly growls closing his eyes, pawing your body and sliding a hand under your jeans by your ass. “I love your mouth… it's fucking warm, mami”.

A slight gag appears, moaning against his erection when you feel two of his big fingers pounding you hard with just one move, digging your narrow and wetted walls without nonstop. Your saliva wraps all his extension, moving your head from top to bottom, with his hips slightly lifting up over the seat to fully fill your cavity every time your nose reaches his pelvis.

“That's it... Suck it all, cariño… Fuck… No one can suck my fucking cock like you do”.

✨ HANK “TRANQ” LOZA

When your husband is aware that you're comfy and he can fall asleep, he does. He does it hard. There's nothing that could wake him up, before it's time to. So when you wake up barely breathing and feeling a horrible heat, you just check that he continues deeping in his rest. Getting up in complete silence and using your shirt to clean the sweat on your neck, you walk towards the bathroom, to get undressed and open the shower faucet, letting the water run a little. But when you're about to come in, two strong arms wrap your waist and a pair of lips kiss your neck.

“I was going to do like nothing happened, but hear you moan my name dreaming, has been one of the best things in my life”. His hoarse and firm voice makes you close your eyes, feeling one of his hands tour down your abdomen.

So slowly, Tranq slides one finger inside you, spreading your legs for him.

“Shit, mi vida… I did this?”

You just nod, biting your bottom lip feeling every thrust deeper than the last one, and his hard dick rubbing your ass. Turning around under his grip, your husband nails his long digit pushing your limits, provoking that you have to lean over your tiptoes with a loud moan rumbling through the bathroom. With his free hand, Tranq pulls down his boxers before raising you up, urging you to surround his body with your legs. And without expecting, your husband impales you against the marble wall.

“Fuck, daddy!” You howl with all your naturalness, don't giving you any time to get used to his size.

His huge, too huge, filling your pussy and forcing it to take every inch of his hard dick. And it's delicious the way he has to hit your g-spot with every push to your body, crashing his pelvis against your lips once and again. His tongue finding yours in a dirty pulse, with your nails running through his back too desperate.

“Shit, mi vida… You feel fucking good… fucking tight…” He gasps right in your lips, keeping your gaze with his. “Do you like it, ah? Do you like how your papi fucks you this hard, baby girl?”

“Fuck, yes… You fucking kill me, papi”. You sob nodding, slapping your ass with one hand, stirring of pleasure under his touch. “Oh, fuck, daddy… I love your cock…”

“Of course you do, babygirl… It's all yours”.

✨ JOHNNY “COCO” CRUZ

“Open your legs, mami”.

As if it was part of your dream, you obey without complaining, letting him some space between them. Coco digs his cock so hard inside your soaked pussy, that he wakes you up screaming his full name.

“That's it, mami, take it all like you were dreaming”.

“Shit, cariño”. You cry out, surrounding his waist with both legs while your boyfriend nails himself a little bit furious and jealous, even if he knows that you were having a dirty dream with him.

“I'm gonna fuck you so hard, that you're gonna ask me to stop”.

No, you will not. You love the wet sound his thickness produces every time he crashes your limits, hitting them with rage. You're touching the sky every time he takes some impulse before lashing out your pussy, with his hands nailed on your hips.

“Is this better than your dream, ah? Tell me, mami”.

“Fuck… Fuck, Coco… Don't stop, please…”

“Oh, no, mami… You're not gonna walk tomorrow… You're gonna be cumming the whole fucking night, I swear it por la Virgen”.

✨ MICHAEL “RIZ” ARIZA

“Mi amor, wake up! It's just a bad dream!”

Your husband shakes you until he hears you moaning his name, an instant before opening your eyes. The mexican breaks into laughs, while you try to be aware of what happened and where you are. Hitting his chest with the palm of your hand, you lie down over the bed, sinking your face on the pillow to yell some spanish curses.

“Look at you, mi amor… Having dirty fantasies, ah?” He teases you.

“Puto pendejo”.

“You know that if you want it, you just have to ask for it”.

Frowning at the man, you snort heavily, before uttering a whisper.

“FuckmeRiz”.

“What? I'm sorry, I didn't hear you, mi amor”. He chuckles, placing a hand in his right ear whilst leaning down.

“Ay, ya, Riz… Sí me oíste”. (You heard me). Pouting at him, your husband breaks in laughs again.

“Take off your clothes, all in four”. He just says, biting one of your lobes, with his voice getting darker.

And you do. Of course you do. There's nothing that you like the most to obey him in the intimacy of your room. The pieces of clothes fall above the floor, somewhere, you don't care, actually. Kneeling on the mattress, you bow down your chest until supporting onto it and spreading your legs to give him a perfect view of your shiny pussy, because of how wet you are.

Riz doesn't doubt, stroking himself and placing the tip of his dick among your folds. You're anxious. Desperate. Needed. And he likes to play with your mind too much. So when he's sure you're not expecting it, about to beg him, your husband sinks his cock into you using all his force. He's able to fill you up, pressing his lower abdomen against you and holding it for some seconds. You can't barely breathe, all that you can do is sob his name.

His fast lungs are pleasing you more than you could ask for, more than in your dream having you in the same position. Your favorite one.

“Shit… C'mon… I know you can… fuck me harder, Riz”.

These words are enough to piss him off, tangling a hand in your hair to pull it until your back meets his chest.

“I thought you… were sleepy yet, princesa”. He gasps into your ear, bringing his lips to your shoulder, biting it.

Of course he can fucks you harder, and he does. He hits your body, making you collapse, grabbing your throat with a hand to twist your neck some inches, so he catches your lips with this.

✨ NERON “CREEPER” VARGAS

Creeper is looking at you, trying to look focused about what you're telling him, after waking you up with the same feeling as if you had an orgasm. He's trying to not laugh, rubbing his chin, until you slap his head.

“Maybe I'm not pleased enough”.

“Yeah, but you were dreaming with me”.

“Hm… I didn't say that”. You tease him with pursed lips, sitting on the mattress with your legs crossed.

The look on his face changes more fast than you can assimilate.

“Isn't funny anymore, Neron?”

“Who was it?”

“What?”

“Who was fucking you? Who were you fucking?”

“Are you…? Babe, are you crying?”

“No”. He just says with a broken voice and his eyes getting reddened.

“BABE, I WAS JUST KIDDING”. Jumping onto him, you kiss his face all around. Every inch. Every part of it. “BABE, OF COURSE I WAS DREAMING WITH YOU. I FUCKING LOVE YOU. NO ONE COULD PLEASE ME MORE THAN YOU DO”.

“Yeah, sure”. He tries to free himself away from your arms, but you close them more.

“Shit, babe, you can't be this dumb…”

“Go tell him to fuck you. Leave me… Leave me fuc—Stop moving against me like a bitch in heat”.

“Your bitch in heat, mi flaquito”. You purr in his ear, before attacking his neck sucking it out and letting your tongue travel over his skin. “Lemme ride you, like I was doing in our dream, babe”.

Your boyfriend clicks his tongue, taking the advantage that you don't wear anything under his shirt, he pulls down his short sweatpants until his knees, to jerk himself off.

“Shit, mi Neron… I love your cock, I could be fucking you all the time, everywhere”. You mutter against his lips, caressing his nose with yours, using that honeyed voice that he likes so much.

“Beg for it, mi niña”. He grunts.

“I wanna feel you fucking me like only you can do, Neron. Filling me up with your cock, deep, rough, hard… Shit, babe, you don't know how much I need you all the fucking time”. You mumble swinging your hips looking for more friction. “You can't imagine how bad it's when you're outta home, and I have to touch myself… My wet pussy asking for you… for your long fingers… your big cock. All the fucking time”.

“You don' like your fingers, ah?” His tongue licks your lips, rubbing his glans against your swollen and needy clit.

“I like yours, babe… I only like how you fuck me. Please… Please, do it”.

He lifts up his waist at the same time that he also spread your legs, to pound you until hitting your soul. And you scream out his name, sinked among your folds, squeezing your ass with his hands nailed on your buttocks.

“Fuck, my love… Look at how easy my cock slides… Shit… You're soaking me and the fucking sheets. How the fuck ya can be so wet?”

“It's because of you, mi flaco”. You cry out bouncing on top of him.

His lips go straight to you hard nipples, sucking and biting them over the fabric of his shirt you're wearing. You can't help but speed up with every jump, showing your boyfriend the much that you need him and all the things that he makes you feel with the most minimal touch.

✨ OBISPO “BISHOP” LOSA

Feeling a soft touch on your cheek, you open your eyes somewhat scared, finding your husband laughing between teeth. You told him that you were tired and that you were to sleep a little on the couch inside the Templo. But he's not laughing because of that.

“I'm the good man that let his girl cum in dreams, before waking her up”.

“Wha—What?”

“It has been the most intense minute of my life, querida”.

“Bish…”

“Sh…” He hushes you, placing a hand on your thigh and moving it to lift the skirt of your dress.

Your panties are so wet that it bothers you, leaving it in the background when your husband presses your clit over the fabric. Putting it aside, he slowly introduces his two longer fingers inside you, without taking off his dark and sparkled eyes from yours. Curling them slightly, before pulling them away and raising that hand in between your faces. Without saying a single word, Bishop brings your wetness to his lips, sucking and licking them to taste you.

“Querida, that's fucking delicious”.

“Bish, I need you right now”. You demand with a desperate tone of voice.

“At home, mi vida, but now… I'm going to try to make it up to you”. He whispers hoarsely, squatting close to the couch you're lying on.

His lips find yours so calmed that it's going to kill you, tucking under your dress his hand again with a clear intention. He knows well that it won't take you too long, being so recent your first orgasm. His two fingers pound you so hard and fast that moves your whole anatomy, drinking every moan that you try to contain to not be heard. But it's almost impossible. Bishop knows every inch of your body, where he has to press, where he has to touch you to make you fall loudly. Every thrust goes deeper, tangling your fingers on his kutte with your legs shaking softly.

“Mi reina, you feel so good… like if it was the first time I fucked you against your car. Do you remember it?”

“Yes…”

“You want me to do it again tonight? In front of our house?”

“Please… Yes…”

“But you have to be a good girl and cum in my hand”.

Biting your lips nodding, you open by inertia your legs a little more. And he fingers you hard, closing your eyes and feeling too close.

“I want all the Mayans outside hearing you scream my name, querida”.

“Fuck… Bish… I'm gonna cum, don' stop… I beg you”.

The pace becomes rough. His palm hits your pussy, before nailing his fingers inside your wetness, to move them from top to bottom so fast that you can't handle it. And you touch the sky when you squirt for the first time, shouting out his full name so assorted in that pleasure wrapping your body that you don't even care about the mess you have made on the couch.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Obispo! Oh my fucking god”. You cry, watching him smile too proud.

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artbyrivaille · 3 years

Text

Hair ☕

Okay, so at the outset, I would like to emphasize that English is not my mother tongue and I am still learning. But writing is my hobby and I decided that I will try my skills here too, in English, I invite you to write requests, I hope you will like it!

3,5k words!

=================================

She was strong. She was a good soldier, commander, companion.

But she was also a beautiful woman with an amazing figure who was envied by many. Despite being quite short, because she was only five feet three, she had long slender legs. Overall, she was considered a beautiful woman. However, she had short hair.

Her hairstyle was practically identical to Levi's, but no one accused her of trying to look like him, as she was cutting her hair that way long before Ackerman joined the survey corps.

Oh, she and Levi. It was quite a sneaky topic, let alone the rumors around the body. They were often seen in each other's company, people interpreted it differently.

Some said it was just a friendship and a bond they established when Ackermann was part of her branch at the beginning of his career. And the others insinuated the supposed romance of the two. Well the versions were really different, but the truth was that y/n and good captain Levi were just two great friends. The woman was one of the few people who knew the man's past, and shared with him some facts about her. Because they both came from the Underground, however, and managed to get out of there on their own, and not with the help of scouts, as was the case with Levi.

At first they were not very sympathetic, quite the opposite. They had very similar characters, which theoretically should indicate that they will get along well, but that was only theoretically. In practice, they got on their nerves terribly.

But despite this aversion to a man, it was precisely this that helped him the most after the death of Farlan and Izabel. She provided him with comfort, help and warmth. Something no one else could give him. It was thanks to her that he recovered so quickly, and he was in the place where he was at the moment.

At some point their relationship began to take a less formal path. More and more often they stayed at each other's offices, helped each other with Erwin's sentences, that is, documentation. They drank tea together, despite the fact that the brunette was a coffee advocate, she made an exception for Levi and almost completely gave it up. They had similar problems, especially those with sleep, may both of them suffer from insomnia, so when the entire corps was asleep, they sat in the two of them over documents, or simply spent their free time together.

Y/n did not even know the exact moment when she began to care in this other, more intimate way on the short captain. It came overnight. Of course, she was behaving the same as before, after all, she was not some horny teen, but a mature woman, but at the moment when she was going to the black-haired's office, or she just knew that he would see him, her body was flooded with heat. And maybe she wouldn't care so much if it wasn't for the fact that she had short hair.

She loved the short haircut, the long hair simply irritated her and disturbed the soldier's everyday life, but she was afraid that they might be an obstacle to any closer relationship with Ackerman.

***

She sat quietly in her office filling out paperwork for Erwin. She nervously tweaked her hair, which was longer than usual, because every time she tried to cut it, something was getting in the way and that was how it was already quite long.

The silence in the office was broken by the sudden opening of the door through which entered a black-haired man with pliers and a towel in his hand. He closed the door with a bang and set the items on the coffee table, then looked at the woman poring over reports and other documents.

"You have long hair." He said suddenly and walked closer to her chair, and when he was next to him, he entangled his hand in her dark strands. She breathed a breath and leaned against the back of the armchair, massaging her temples at the same time giving herself to the caress.

"I didn't have time to cut them off because of the last expedition, and with all the crap Erwin did, I have more work to do than ever. And Hanji keeps following me all the time and asks if I managed to convince Bushbread to do experiments on titans." She explained in frustration then exhaled her mouth with a whistle.

"Tch, fucking shitty glasses. Come on, rest a little, cut off your hair, and you will give me a haircut." He replied then pulled the woman's chair back and, grabbing her hand, led her to the bathroom. She was so tired of it all that she didn't care, and the presence of a cobalt-eyed woman was calming, so she didn't resist. "Get your hair wet." He gave the order, which she followed by putting her head in the shower and then she wet her hair with a stream of water. Ackermann handed her a towel, which she grabbed and dried her hair.

Let the two go back to the brunette's office, meanwhile she took off her jacket and threw it on the couch, which Ackermann only huffed, but said nothing. She sat down without a word on the low stool that the man had prepared at that time. He ran a hand through her hair a few times and began carefully trimming it.

"Can I ask you a question?" She finally gave up y/n, unable to withstand the silence in the room

"You ask them anyway, so why do you ask me for permission." The bored man replied by which l/n raised the corner of her mouth in a small smile.

"What do you think about women with short hair?" She asked, and black hair stopped breathing for a moment. What the hell was that about? Is this some kind of provocation?

"What am I supposed to think. They are no less feminine because they do not have long hair, their appearance does not define a person." He replied quite neutral, not realizing that he had just kindled a little ray of hope in his friend's heart. "And why do you ask?"

"Because I care about someone, and all in all, I wanted to know your opinion." Ah yes. His heart leapt into his throat, and his stomach seemed to have a 3D maneuvering device. Someone did she like? But who the hell. After all, the only men with whom she spent time was himself, Erwin, sometimes he encountered Moblit in the company of Hanji and Mike. Who could steal her heart enough to make her care about her hairstyle? Probably Erwin. That fucking perfect general.

Maybe Levi didn't have complexes as such, but he was always a little jealous of Smith. He had a perfect body, he was tall, intelligent, had a high position in the military, and he came from a non-poor family. He was nothing compared to the blonde, he had nothing to offer. And he would like so much to have her with him.

"I'm done." He muttered softly brushing single hairs from the woman's clothes. She got up from the stool and unintentionally combed her dark hair. She looked beautiful, but he wouldn't tell her that.

"Your turn." She said and took the pliers from his hand. This time it was he who sat on the stool. He involuntarily smiled under his breath and closed his eyes at the woman's gentle touch. He was literally like a docile kitten. Why couldn't she be his?

***

He had been avoiding her like plague for about two weeks. He was irritated by the lack of a black-haired woman around him, but he knew that if it was like before, he would take the blow even worse.

A blow that would never come.

Y/n really didn't know what she could do wrong. After all, everything was fine, and then overnight Ackerman began to avoid her. Maybe he just got bored?

At first she explained his ignorance with overwork, in the end everyone in the command had their heads off. But when one day in a row she saw him sitting quietly with Petra, she knew it was not it. By the way, seeing a redhead in his company, something broke in her. What did this teenager have that she did not have? Did their relationship really mean nothing to him? So many questions, so few answers.

And this way almost every evening she landed in Erwin's office with Hanji with a bottle of whiskey or vodka, depending on what Smith had in the bar. Erwin and Hange really couldn't comprehend the change in brunet's behavior, and the sight of a really hurt l/n was so pathetic as to be nasty.

And so the next evening the three gathered in Smith's office where they once again debated about the captain's behavior.

"I do not feel it completely, so change the attitude towards people overnight.

I know that our curly pedantic has its own rules, but without exaggeration." Hanji announced, finishing the rest of the whiskey from her glass.

"Maybe something made him do it?" Smith replied, then grabbed his chin.

"Tch, and this thing is called Petra Ral, really fascinating." Black-haired girl summed up pouring herself and Zoe whiskey.

Their conversations were so loud that they interested Ackerman who was just about to make himself a cup of tea. But when he heard three familiar voices, he stood at the door of Smith's office, listening to what was being said.

"Don't take it for granted." Erwin said and frowned by the high concentration of alcohol in his glass.

"So what could be the reason Levi is ignoring me then? Just like logic Erwin, there are two options, or he has something to me and he distorts what is unfortunately but impossible because he always treated me only as a friend. Or he just shoots with Petra, and that's what I believe more. "Did they talk about him? What romance with Petra? And y/n cared for him the way he wanted it, but he's just an idiot and he broke it? He held his breath for a moment and tried to enter the room, but stopped himself and continued to stand still.

"Like it or not, I have to agree with the above. Although I keep my fingers crossed for the first version." Squeaked at the end of the woman, which caused a loud sigh of disapproval from y/n.

"Shut up Hanji, I don't want to hope again for something that will never happen." She growled angry and hurt. She really cared about him. Not on any Erwin, Moblit or Mike, but on him. On a goddamn Underground thief with a hard character and misophobic aspirations. Damn it, don't let this be a dream.

He walked away from the door and headed for his office. He has even forgotten why he left it at all. He sat down at the desk and stared blankly at the sky until the very morning, trying to put everything in his head. He must try to fix what he broke.

***

Like a day like every other day. There was no expedition, no surprises, just an ordinary day in the recon. Well, maybe almost. Because Ackerman had been nervous and a little stressed since the morning. And it wasn't just because he wanted to talk to y/n seriously, but largely because he couldn't find her anywhere. As to spite that day, she sank underground, his only salvation could be Erwin. Which office was on his way to. The evening and dinner time was approaching, so he wanted to come to him before her, to look for the presence of a woman at the last meal, if necessary.

He entered the office without knocking, Smith merely looked up from the mountain of documents he had probably been studying since this morning, then turned him back to the sheets of paper.

"What you want Levi?" He asked breaking the silence prevailing in the room. He was pretty sure why this one had come to him, but preferred not to reveal all the cards at once.

"Where is y/n"? Erwin sighed and then put down his quill and straightened up in his chair. He was afraid of Levi's reaction, but what could he do if the milk had already spilled?

"She went on a mission. She should be back in two or three days at the most." He replied with a straight face in the middle being a bit irritated by the reaction of the black-haired man.

"What mission? And why the hell didn't I know anything about this." Ackerman asked, very angry with the news once again.

"Maybe because you've been avoiding her for a long time? Maybe because it's a secret mission, I'm not obligated to tell you everything, Levi. I respect you and treat you as a friend, so I will give you some friendly advice. Think about what you really want and don't screw it up. I don't think I need to tell you what I'll do to you if you hurt her, not to mention Hanji." A faint smile affected his lips at the end of his speech.

"It's none of your business anymore. Thank you for the information." He replied coolly and, not worried about the threat of his friend, left his office.

So he was supposed to wait? He hated waiting. Uncertainty burst him from the inside, these few days will probably be a real nightmare for him.

***

It was well past nine o'clock, so most of the Corps' soldiers were resting in their quarters. Only a few officers were still in the courtyard. And Levi was watching them from his office.

Week. She has been gone since fucking week.

And he was consumed not only by uncertainty, but also by fear. Because they didn't know anything, not even Erwin, who entrusted the woman with this mission. Through it all, the captain was irritated and angry from day to night. Everyone wanted to be as far away from him as possible. Even Petra must have found out about his bad mood when some two days after y/n's departure, she felt bad for the fact that she smiled at him instead of focusing on cleaning. The last time he was afraid was when he first left for exeption.

Suddenly, a horse ran into the courtyard, on the back of which was a scout, but he was clearly unconscious, barely clinging to his mount. At first, Ackerman did not move from his place, but when he heard the screams about the return of squad leader l/n and summoning the medics, he sprinted out of the office.

When he was already leaving, he saw only a brunette, which two cadets were carrying on a stretcher to the infirmary. There was blood everywhere, and the worst case scenario flashed through his mind. She might have died.

He knew that they would not let him into the infirmary anyway, and the cadets didn't know anything, the only option was once again Erwin. What a mission it was to make her come back like this.

He hurried to Smith's office and threw open the door. He did not care about the surprised face of Hanji, who was sitting on the blonde's couch, but he walked over to the man and grabbed him tightly by the collar of a white shirt.

"What was that mission? And why did you send her over there alone, don't you care that she's just fighting for her life?" He was screaming at the top of his throat, he didn't care what everyone thought of him right now, he didn't care about the consequences, he only cared that he could lose her before he actually possessed her.

"In Stohess there is a man who leads the gang. It interfered with various shipments and the like. They are also active in the Underground. The task was to diversify into their ranks, apparently she did not quite succeed." He replied with stoic calm which made the black-haired man even more angry.

"Have you been really fucked up? Such a mission is not a job for one person, it is for the rest. Such matters should be handled by the MP's, not us!" He shouted and pushed the blonde back so that he almost fell from his chair.

"Only that they interfered mainly with transports to our corps. Mostly those not entirely legal. You know very well that a large amount of drugs and medical equipment we have is not entirely legal, but it is needed. I wanted to send the two of you on this mission, because both of you know the Underground, but she did not agree to you taking part in this mission. Probably because you were not getting along at that point." The man explained succinctly, and Ackerman said nothing. It was his fault, his goddamn fault. If only he wasn't such an asshole, nothing bad would have happened.

Until now, a silent Hanji came up to the shorter man and put her hand on his shoulder, the latter turned towards her, close to crying. Holy shit what she did with him.

"You'll finish later, for now, go to her." She ordered, and he nodded and without a word headed for the infirmary.

***

"When will she wake up?" He asked one of the medics, who was just finishing treating single wounds on the body of an unconscious woman.

"She should wake up in the morning. But probably not for long, he has to rest a lot now. She lost a lot of blood, it is surprising that she was even going here alive." She replied and got up from the small stool, putting the remnants of bandages and other medicaments on a silver tray. "But take it easy, she will get out of this, squad leader l/n is a damn tough woman, not just character. She will lick it." She added after a moment with a slight smile on her face trying to cheer the man up.

"I know she's strong." He replied quietly, his head bowed and his hands folded.

"So just be patient. I think she survived because she had someone to return to." She laughed softly and just left the room, leaving the slightly confused captain with the unconscious woman.

He slowly walked over to her bed and sat down next to it on the wooden chair. He grabbed her chilled hand and pressed it to his lips, giving it a tender kiss. He had to wait.

And so the hours went by, and Levi spent them thinking about his feelings for the woman and simply gazing at her adoringly.

She was so beautiful, he loved everything about her. From a smile that could not be seen too often, ending with short hair. He was lazily combing them almost all the time, not being surprised how pleasant they are. He did not even notice that it was starting to dawn, and the soldiers of the corps were slowly waking up to start another day of service. He also did not notice that Erwin accompanied by Hanji arrived in the room in the meantime, but when they saw the man sitting next to the y/n, they only smiled at each other and left, leaving them alone, of course they gave each other high five for fruitful cooperation.

"Wake up now, because these feelings will blow me up soon." The words were coming out of his mouth involuntarily. His eyes were closed, he tried to focus, to be patient. "I overheard your, Hanji and Erwin conversation about me. I really was an idiot. I shouldn't be away from you, that's why you're here at all. If I hadn't, you wouldn't be lying here, I wouldn't have allowed it. I have plans to blame Erwin for letting you go on this mission alone. But you don't know how much I was bursting from the inside by the thought that you care about someone, and that someone is not me. I was so fucking jealous. Ugh, feelings are a pain in the ass. You don't even know what you're doing with me. I just love you, and I love everything about you." There was a silence in the room, and the man breathed a sigh of relief, finally blurted out into the crowd of thoughts.

"Even my short hair?" Silence, a hoarse voice broke the silence in the room. The man immediately opened his eyes and straightened in his chair, a smile spread across his face at the sight of the woman's open eyes.

"Even short hair." He replied and once again ran his hand through it, and placed the other on her cheek.

"I heard everything, you idiot. Love you too." She said and smiled broadly as he reciprocated.

"I love you too." He replied and pressed their lips together in a kiss.

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bored-storyteller · 3 years

Text

Thank you dear Anon for your request! Also because, I had already started writing a possible sequel on my own, your request arrives perfectly!

Note: I imagined these events after the one-shot you find here. In any case there are only subtle references.

35- Tokyo Ghoul- Uta x human!Reader (pt. 2)

"Beyond the Mask"

Uta sees you there, curled up in the chair in front of the table like a wet little bird, despite the fact that you are now wearing his warm clothes, which fall softly on your frightened figure. He doesn't mind lending it to you, on the contrary, he tried to find something that wasn't too extravagant, coming out with a heavy black sweatshirt and wide gray pants. He thought that this clothing could help you put yourself at ease, but he also understands that being wrapped in his clothes for you doesn't have to be so reassuring. You probably accepted this only to avoid being immersed in the nauseating humidity of the body fluids that stick to your skin.

He can't tell if your following him was a sign of courage or fear. You didn't say anything, and the few words you whispered were kind; you also thanked him. It almost seems like you are straining to try to be calm, but it's the small, meaningless gestures that betray you. Earlier you insisted that he be the first to shower and change, although it would have been more logical for you to go first; yet perhaps for you that was a way to get the killer monster out of sight, or at least partially forget it.

Uta is unable to understand you right now, nor does he really pretend to, he is already grateful enough that you are intelligent enough to understand that it would be almost suicidal to return to your home in the condition you were in, especially after what it happened.

No, he doesn't pretend to understand you, but to understand himself a little more, yes. Uta is a labyrinth, with a thousand streets inside, which intersect and cancel each other out. A thousand paradoxical streets where after a turning point you can find someone completely different than the person you met. Yet all those roads are authentic and sincere, in their sweetness or in their violence.

He is aware of this, it is clear to him, but as the owner of his soul he should know how to pull the strings, understand what is happening inside. Yet he doesn't know now, or he can't really explain it.

He feels sadness, a deep sadness to see you so small and afraid. He would like to hope your snuggling up to him in that alley was dictated by mutual trust and not despair, but he doesn't even know if you're aware of that. He doesn't really want you to be scared of him, but at the same time he sees no way to stop it.

He also feels angry with you. Because deep down he knows that you are unconsciously judging him. The same fear you evidently feel makes him angry. He didn't eat you, right? So why do you have to be so scared in front of him? It was you who ran into his arms, wasn't it?

Yet he still can't tell you that, because you are doing absolutely nothing threatening towards him. You simply indulge him timidly, tremblingly accepting his care that will never be able to reassure you.

Maybe you've never really felt as confident in him as Uta hoped. Being in his house, first naked in his bathroom and now in his clothes maybe it wouldn't have been pleasant for you even if he had been human, let alone now with all the terror you've accumulated… after what you saw.

Uta is the author and accomplice of things that you would consider horrible, it is his nature, he is not able to change, he needs that to feel alive.

But you also make him feel alive. He likes that cordial, playful confidence that you take with him, the one that remains within limits, but which somehow transmitted the affection of a kind heart; like that time, when you playfully smeared his nose with red paint with the brush you were using. You apologized right away, but you laughed happily and enjoyed watching him, and Uta liked it, so much that he returned the favor with some yellow color.

You are spontaneous, and he likes it, even if now this spontaneity of yours is pulling you away from him, even though you try to pretend it isn't.

In the end, he really wants to take care of you. But how can he do it? He can't even really offer you anything other than a cup of bitter coffee.

He looks for a moment at his own reflection in the dark drink, so indistinct and blurry, before placing the cup on the shelf in front of you slowly.

You look at him suddenly, as if you have just woken up. Uta smiles kindly at you: he has always been kind to you. You smile at him too, but he could swear that you only do it to please him, for fear of a negative reaction from him.

He would really like to sit in front of you, so he can talk as you do every time you meet in the coffee shop, but he instead leans against the wall with his back, a wall quite far from your warmth and your presence. He too has a hot cup in his tattooed hands, but he doesn't really want coffee; maybe he just hoped that if he drank something familiar to you - something that didn't speak your language before he was devoured - you would trust again.

You take a sip, probably more out of politeness than out of desire, and your expression turns into a small involuntary pout as you perceive the bitterness of the coffee on your tongue.

Uta would find it funny if it weren't for the whole situation.

"I'm sorry…" his quiet voice of him draws your attention to himself. He doesn't really know what he's apologizing for. "I have no ... sugar ..."

The relaxed musicality of his voice is slightly cracked by uncertainty.

He has no sugar to console you, no regular sugar at least. It's already strange that he got the coffee. He never really welcomes real guests, only customers, now that he thinks about it; there are rare times when he really has to welcome someone outside of his "business", generally speaking.

You do not answer immediately, your gaze cannot help wandering over his figure, his body, his chest and his abdomen.

He smooths his baggy black sweater, as if to make you realize he's noticing your eyes, and then take a sip from his cup.

"Don't worry, it's okay ..." you assure "in the end ... I like to try new things ..."

Are you talking about sugar?

Your voice is a twitter that leaves him with vague hope. Are you trying to tell him something?

He's not really afraid of you going around talking, you told him you wouldn't and he knows you won't. You are not that different from Renji in this.

You turn the cup over in your fingers, looking at that dark liquid, and then turn to him again.

"Don't ... want to sit down?"

You ask him shyly, as if you feared rejection, but you asked him anyway.

You amaze him, of course. That is a little melancholy surprise, your calling him close, your giving him a little illusion of closeness.

But do you really want him there?

With a nod he slowly approaches, as if he is approaching a wounded animal - or prey - and he slowly sits in front of you.

The cups of coffee that nobody wants look at each other, placed in front, close together, like when you happen to meet at the end of the day in the cafe. It was a good time for Uta, he enjoyed pretending that there were no Ghouls and Humans, silenced his hunger so attracted to you and focused on the pleasure of your presence as if you were no different.

But now the charade is over, you two are not alike, and for some reason it hurts him.

Your gaze rests docile on his face, and he smiles lightly.

He is beautiful, you really think so. In a way, those red and black eyes are the only ones that fit him. Uta is not of an objective beauty, he must like him, and you really like him.

"You know..." your murmur puts him on alert "I ... I hear the news but ... it's hard to think that it could happen to you, when you hear about ghouls ..."

"It didn't happen to you."

His calm voice stops you immediately, and despite his flat tone makes you feel accused. He didn't hurt you, you can't say he's your turn. If anything, he is the turn of your tormentor.

"I ... no ... I meant that I had never thought of meeting one ..."

You justify shy, and he realizes he scared you. You're probably thinking that the first misstep you take will automatically become his next meal.

His lips press in a thin line, while he looks at you calmly.

"We are not that rare, you know ..."

He informs you, understanding that you would never speak if he remained silent.

There were ghouls even more integrated into human society than he. You were kind of his exception to him, his regular break from his violent life, even though he still had other human connections.

"Do you want to eat me?"

The question comes out suddenly, interrupting any flow of thought. It is less insecure than you thought, but deep down you both know that that's the core of it all.

He looks you straight in the eye, without giving in to the gaze and somehow gluing your pupils into his.

He could tell you that if he had wanted he would have done it already, he could say many things, yet he doesn't want to lie, he owes you and you owe it to him.

"It would be nice."

His voice is kind of calming despite the harshness of those words. As scary as they are, you don't react, and let him talk again.

"But it would also be extremely sad for me."

His tattooed fingers twirl around the slowly cooling cup, and you wonder if his heart has started beating a little faster, like yours, despite his mute expression.

"As tempting as eating you may be ... it would be very sad not to see you again."

A spark suddenly lights up in your eyes, it's so beautiful and bright that Uta opens his lips slightly in amazement, seeing that little light in you, so unexpectedly. He can't say if it is the hope of being able to live still that ignited it or that unspoken admission of affection, but that's okay with him.

"Would you be sad, Uta?"

You ask with a voice covered with expectations. He does not know how it happened, but it seems that your focus has shifted to something else, so suddenly.

Your cheeks just blush, and you smile as you look down at your hands. That smile isn't for him, it's for you. Uta wasn't hoping to see you smile again, yet there you were, wrapped in his baggy clothes smiling genuinely, as if you had suddenly forgotten the fear.

Your fingers intertwine in front of the cup, and your face doesn't dare lift up on him, but this time it's not fear that stops you.

“A Ghoul… sure, I had to know. In fact, in the end I knew it. Being a human would have been too trivial for you. "

Take another sip of coffee, and this time you commit yourself to putting up with the bitterness, even if you don't quite succeed.

Uta allows himself a slight amused smile.

"Oh yes?"

His is a rhetorical question that you just nod.

He drinks too, plunging both of you into a less heavy silence, but which still lingers in Uta's mind doubts that he would like to silence.

"Now where will you go?"

He is used to those he cares about disappearing far away. It wouldn't be new to see you walk away from him, he's not really hoping to be able to hold you back, despite what you said. Life simply changes people, and with them the world, he is aware of it, as he is aware of the fact that after this night the world between you two has changed, and as always you will be the one to change with it, while he will remain there, immobile.

"Do you want ... I have to go home?"

You ask confused, glancing towards the door. Night out scares you, you prefer the wolf's lair more than the dark and unpredictable shadows of the dark hours.

You didn't understand what he meant, how could you? Yet somehow Uta expected you to do it, he expected you to tell him this was goodbye. Yeah, is this goodbye?

"No, you don't have to go home if you don't want to ..."

It's hard to ask you to stay, to really stay. It is difficult to ask you to stay with him, because if you refused it would be a defeat, if you felt forced you would no longer be you.

“So you can't eat the food? Normal food I say ... so the idea of inviting you to lunch is out of the question. "

Your words break the melancholy in his mind again. He looks at you, his head slightly bent towards his right shoulder:

"Did you want to invite me to lunch?"

You wonder if it's really that surprising that you had such an idea. Should you be ashamed of it? Maybe this is inappropriate for him?

"I wanted. I mean, I've thought about it. It seemed nice to me. "

It seemed nice to you. You were cute, Uta often thought that. Here it is again, your gentle affection; it would have been a problem to refuse you if you really asked him to share lunch. He had never gotten used to pretending to eat human food, even though he tolerated smells quite well by now.

“Anyway, that's a kind thought of you. Thank you."

Without the glasses, his expression is even more gentle. It seems paradoxical, compared to the figure of him, but still, Uta is so unique.

"Not very kind if it kills you."

You mutter to yourself, looking away in embarrassment. In fact, now that you really know he's a ghoul a lot of your talk may no longer make sense.

"No ..." you hear him chuckle slightly, lightly and yet amused "we don't die so easily unfortunately for you ... I'd end up feeling extremely bad."

Suddenly the argument between you lightens up without either of you really noticing. He feels it, almost palpable, the boulder in his chest becoming light at the sound of curiosity that colors your voice as you confirm that you understand: it is the same curiosity as when you ask him questions about his masks, the colors he uses or his tattoos, he clearly recognizes it, which has now almost become part of both of you.

"I have so much to ask you, Uta" you admit, smiling at him fondly "but for now, thank you for everything you've done."

His nonexistent brows go up, looking at you as if he's asking if you were serious. But you did, sure, he knew.

"Thanks to you for bringing me dinner downstairs."

Uta doesn't mince words, he never did, and it was something you loved. He was always contemptuous and edgy in his calm and delicacy of him, it was a humor all of him, no one could ever look like Uta.

He makes you laugh, despite the macabre implied, and he's happy. He feels lighter, freer, and this seems to apply to you too.

One of his laboriously painted hands moves towards your face. He doesn't even notice, it's a gesture dictated by instinct, from his heart. Only when he's about to touch your cheek does he freeze, dumbfounded as to what to do, wondering in his head what the hell he was doing, why he did it.

He fears to see you retract at his touch, fears to see you hide and still does not understand why he fears so much the rejection of a human, a human who should be food and who instead twists his stomach with just a look.

He tries to retreat first, before it's late, but your hands stop him.

His fingers are now squeezed between yours, tenderly, as you tenderly bring them to your face. The hand that presses on his back is warmer than his skin, but the one that squeezes his palm has frozen fingertips, he feels them pinch against his skin. In yet another gesture of care for you, his fingers close on yours, to warm them.

And while you hold him he holds you, you hold both of you, and he knows you don't know him, that you haven't seen the dark side of him yet nor does he know if he will ever have the courage to show it to you, but for now that's okay .

Now he's no longer alone in his charade with you. You are no longer his audience, you are the actor who responds to his sentences in front of that cruel world. But luckily now, behind the scenes, his mask is no longer needed.

"I promise I'll take you for a better coffee tomorrow."

"I accept with great pleasure."

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