#you’ve got a bullet proof heart

[plutoniumsourcandy]

btw. happy Father’s Day to this guy. best dad in the zones

#you’ve got a bullet proof heart

[writing-makes-me-human]

Charming Killer: 2

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Pairing: Neteyam x reader

PART ONE PART THREE

Summary: Neteyam confronts his fears of the scientists compound in his attempts to reach you. He’s all over you the second he see’s you and while you don’t really know what he’s saying it doesn’t fail to have an effect on you.

Warnings: I basically turned him into a cat unintentionally. 

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: I did not proof read this very well cause I was working on multiple fics then realised I had nothing to post! She’s as good as it gets rn kids sorry.

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A week had passed since Neteyam had dropped you off at the laboratories on the outskirts of his village, and a lot had happened since then.

After Neteyam left, you were escorted into the premises by Max, who turned you over to Norm for fixing.

Norm had patched your arm up with gauze paired with a paste made from the wilds of Pandora, and he was delighted to finally put a face to the voice he had been hearing through the comlink for over a year.

The consensus from everyone was that you had been lucky Neteyam had found you. The bullet hadn't passed through your lower arm, and with a quick extraction, you were on the road to healing, surrounded by the reasonably happy group of rebel scientists you had been feeding information to from the compounds of the RDA these past months.

As your arm healed, you grew closer to Max and helped him run the station as much as he would let you when you weren't meant to be resting. This still left a lot of time in the day, so you started to shadow either Max or Norm and tried asking as much as possible about the Na'vi people as you learned the trades needed to keep the station afloat.

You had built up a routine for day-to-day life, and while it was boring, helping the native people and their planet is what you had risked your life for. It's why you wouldn't see Earth again, and it's why you were here.

The mundane work was mostly upkeeping the lab from weather and fixing any technical issues you were qualified for. Still, occasionally, Norm would let you discern things he had brought back from outside while he had been in his avatar. It made your heart sink as you knew that no matter what, you couldn't go back out there with the threat of everything being nearly twice as significant as you and twice as deadly.

Norm was actively showing off his hobby of teaching now, and it felt awkward to have this heavy feeling in your chest while Norm looked like a kid in a candy store as he held up the flower to you and pointed out the different attributes and what they were used for with a pair of tweezers.

You nodded and occasionally asked questions, but this quiet learning moment was interrupted when Max tore into the room with sweat running across his forehead. He must have sprinted across the entire compound.

"We have an issue", he finally managed to gasp out, and you immediately turned to Norm, who, as swiftly as he could, placed down the flower onto the sterilized tray behind him and set off after Max with you in tow.

"What's the matter?" Norm nervously asked as his eyes darted around, seeing the rest of the human residents were somewhat uneasily watching you three nearly sprint to the opening hatch that led to the vast plains of Pandora.

"Y/n, you've got a guest", Max coughed out with an awkward laugh as your eyes widened in curiosity.

Your trio rushed to reach the containment hallway, which was the only barrier between your oxygenated environment and the deadly poisonous gasses of the alien planet.

All of you were entirely out of breath once you approached the spot, and you could feel your arm cry out as you stepped inside the room just outside of the airlock.

Your eyes widened in happiness as you saw your savior awkwardly taking a device that was attached to his side and bringing it to his face. Neteyam took a deep breath with his eyes shut before his eyes fluttered open again and immediately found you a few feet in front of him.

A few scientists below him tried to advise him of a few safety briefings in Na'vi so he didn't go around smacking things over. Still, he completely turned a blind eye to them and he stepped over the woman who yelled out for him to come back. Neteyam happily ignored her as he shuffled towards your more petite figure with a grin. Norm and Max backed up immediately as the giant man came towards them.

Neteyam placed a hand on the roof to steady himself before he lowered himself to speak with you face to face. You smiled as his bright yellow eyes connected with yours, enjoying the familiar connection after so long apart.

"Neteyam!" You yelled out and leaped forward to give him a polite hug of endearment around his waist. Your touch immediately knocked the air out of him, forcing him to pick up the device again and lift the clear plastic mask to his mouth in order to get more of his indigenous air into his lungs.

After you pulled back, he responded by saying your name to you with a quirk in his ears as a sound in one of the distant labs caught his sense's attention.

You laughed merrily and then turned around to see that everyone was eyeing you both with astonishment. Perhaps being so friendly with the Na'vi had been a bit odd, but he had saved your life after all, and how were you supposed to know that this was the first time any of the scientists had seen Neteyam allow a sky person other than Spider to touch him? Even though on several occasions it was quite literally life or death.

"Uh, can you guys give us the room?" Max called to the other two foreign researchers in the room in hazmat suits.

They wasted no time in nodding and taking off, shutting the metal door behind them with the selected password to prevent any outbreaks. None of the regulars were used to seeing this son of Jake Sully's, and it was clear they were more than happy to steer clear from the hunter.

The silence that followed the departure was unnerving, and you felt the tension in the room spike as you spotted Neteyam's deadly longbow laid across the table behind him, probably at the demands of the other two who had greeted him at the door.

"So, uh, why are you here?" You asked, feeling the duo pair of eyeballs burning into the back of your head intensify as you continued speaking to Neteyam.

He understood your words and replied in Na'vi, which made you purse your lips as you nodded your head to show you had heard him before awkwardly turning to Norm, motioning for him to tell you what the boy had said.

Norm stuttered over his words for a minute before he replicated the sentence in English.

"He said he missed you and asked if that was a good enough reason", Norm's delivery lacked the mischievous twinkle in Neteyam's eye, but you paired the two together and grinned.

The warrior obviously had a sense of humor when lives weren't at stake, and it made you happy to learn more about the young man. He gazed around the room for a second before he seemed to register Max and Norm's presence, making himself nod at them respectfully before he returned to stare back at your body.

You were utterly at a loss for what to say. The angry man who had first seen you in the woods not long ago was banished from sight, and in his place was this smiley man that still had the means to kill you but had sought you out to simply say hello.

His eyes sparked, and he turned to his hip, digging his hand into a burlap sack he had attached there before he produced his closed fist and held it to you, watching your face peek in interest as his tail flickered madly behind him, hitting the metal walls.

You couldn't help the engrossment you felt, so just as Max was calling out for you to be careful, you pressed your significantly smaller hand into Neteyam's, and in response, he let his hand unfurl to present you with a gift.

It was a red stone that looked like a moving body of water had tumbled it for a long time. The rock shone under the heavy-duty lights above you, and with a timid move, you reached forward and picked it up from his hands, smiling as you thanked him for the gift.

He watched you admire it in your hands as you held it up to the light and stared at it in wonder. Neteyam could get used to amazing you like this.

He leaned one hand on his knee and the other on the floor to steady himself as he gazed at you with wide pupils that tried to take in all of your beauty.

You held the gift to your chest and bowed your head at him, delighting as he copied you without hesitation.

His smile faltered and transformed into an embarrassed throat clearing as his ears fluttered backward. He took his eyes off your figure and stared at the ceiling as his nose sniffed at the air as it had done upon his first meeting with you.

You thought back to the invasive manhandling he had done to you, and in response, you felt a heavy blush consume your face. You bashfully looked at the stone in your hand to avoid Neteyam seeing your face and reading your movements. You turned the beautiful blood-red stone over a few times before slipping it into your pocket and letting the weight drag the fabric of your pants.

Neteyam eyed the individuals behind you with a frown but chose to disregard them. He pressed himself closer to the ground to whisper something to you. He placed his head in front of your plunged face, which was determined not to look up to his eyes, and he softly mumbled something that made your blush deepen.

"Smell you?" His articulation was terrible, but the words still translated to you either way.

If he was being honest, the only reason he hadn't swept you up into his arms the second he saw you was because of the audience he was facing, but your fragrance was once again outpowering his freewill. He desperately needed to feel the fizz you activated in him before he went feral and ripped your clothes off to smell every inch of you.

You glanced behind yourself at Norm and Max, who were both still at a loss for words, but it seemed they were becoming more accepting of your friendship as you spent long minutes basking in one another's presence.

You swallowed nervously but nodded your consent to his touching.

His ears revived back up as he smiled smugly. He adjusted his body so he was sitting crossed-legged in front of you, his knees pressed against the sides of the short hallway, but he didn't care, instead, he focused on your facial expression as you very slightly looked to your left, allowing him a view of your neck.

He slowly inched towards you, giving you plenty of time to pull back and change your mind, but when you didn't, he moved forward, brushed his nose against your bare neck and rejoiced at the fact you still smelt just as strong as you did in his dreams.

He was nearly salivating at the scent, and he selfishly pushed himself deeper into your neck, letting his face push you around slightly while his body shivered at the properties of your touch.

He was doing everything he could not to let his hands roam around your body and investigate where you smelt sweetest, but his euphoric daydreaming was ruined by the sound of Max speaking to you in English.

When you answered back, he felt a sharp electric zap of possessiveness power through him. You were his mate, you weren't meant to be speaking to other men, and you were certainly not told to talk to other single men.

Neteyam growled something over your shoulder to Max and then picked you up gently and rose you to his body so he could set you on his lap. He placed your back against his chest and let his hands entrap your waist to ensure you kept still.

You yelped a little as you suddenly felt your feet leave the ground. Then you let out an 'oof' as Neteyam sat you on his thigh, allowing you to face the other men in the room as he mindlessly returned to bury his head into your neck, forcing your head to an unnatural angle as you nervously chuckled.

"Friendly guy, huh?" You asked the science geeks, but they were both looking at each other with scandalized stares, both more shocked than you had ever seen.

Neteyam’s grip on your waist tightened as he found a hotspot of sweat that was pooling in your neck. The sweet aroma nearly knocked him out with the jolt of pleasure it sent directly to his brain.

Max's jaw dropped while Norm let out an unbelieving chuckle, pointing to your two entangled bodies with an open hand and then back to Max as if to ask what was happening. If it was a competition between who was more aghast, you weren't sure who won.

"This isn't uh...this isn't a greeting used for friends y/n", Max tried to explain while beating around the bush as Norm was still unable to form a single word in English or Na'vi.

Your brow creased in confusion, but then you felt canines gently nip at your neck, and you squeaked as your hand flew up and grabbed onto Neteyam's forearm before you growled out his name in anger at his unchecked drunken actions.

Neteyam's hot breath fanned your neck as he grumbled out another line that nobody had translated to you yet, which worked to push you closer to the edge of frustration.

"What is he saying?" You asked as you squirmed away from his touch, only to have him drag you back into him and gently kiss your neck, making you scream as you let go of your motor functions and thrashed him off.

He pulled his head back with a scowl before once again he said something and let one hand off your waist so he could lightly pull your head back by your hair, allowing him access to freely rub his cheek around your jugular. You choked out at his harsh movements, but neither Norm nor Max seemed too concerned for your safety.

He rubbed his skin against your neck, and for a second, you swore you heard the deep rumbling of a purr thundering across the hallway, but Neteyam quickly cut it off with an embarrassed cough.

"He's uh, well, he's saying a lot", Max was even more flustered than you as he turned to Norm and nodded for him to take over the translation.

"He's trying to tell us to stay away, he's trying to scent you", Norm found his voice, and if you couldn't see the shock and slightly affronted stare he was holding with you through Neteyam's braids, you would have almost thought you were back in the lab and he was explaining the biology of the flower to again.

"Well, can you tell the knucklehead to knock it off?" You huffed with a provoked tinge to your voice as Neteyam let your hair go and returned to his original spot in the crook of your neck.

You would never admit it, not even on your deathbed, but the touch was welcome as his warm skin brushed against you and sent ravenous desire through your soul. The fact you had your colleagues standing in front of you as Neteyam touched you so intimately was really the only problem.

"Do you want us to lose a limb?" Norm tried to joke, but you didn't appreciate his humor.

The feeling of a hot, wet, velvety tongue being dragged from the base of your neck to your jaw made you whine, and the two older men's eyes snapped to Neteyam as you finally decided you had enough of being humiliated.

You ripped yourself from his grip and snapped your head to stare at him angrily, but he only chuckled and his deep voice rumbled through your core as another line came from his mouth. You had no idea what he said, but his hooded eyes and loving smirk tightened your core with a lustful tug.

You spun around again and let your rage spill over.

"Somebody better tell me what he's saying right now before I go crazy!" You yelled. Neteyam let his hands depart from your body and gave you the room to jump from his grip so you could stand with your back to him.

Norm stuck his hands up in mock surrender and shook his head.

"I'm not translating that one", he leaned over and smacked Max on the back for support.

The older man choked on his breath and stumbled to find the right words as Neteyam hungrily eyed your back in front of him.

"He's calling you his muntxa...his mate", Max looked fortified at his words and instantly dropped your gaze as you felt yourself cease entirely to exist.

You turned sharply towards Neteyam, and suddenly the gift, the smelling and the scenting all made sense. You could feel everything in you turn red with blush as you started wildly shaking your head and waving your hands above your head in an 'x' shape which yanked his wandering eyes back to your face.

"No muntxa! No thank you! Find a pretty Na'vi woman, okay? I'm not interested!" You shouted each word louder as if somehow he would be able to understand you if your speech became more pronounced.

"That's not how it works, you can't just turn him down" Norm tried to explain from behind you with an amused huff as Neteyam stared at your outburst in confusion.

He understood most of what you said, but why would you turn him down if you were his mate? There was no questioning that you were his because everything about you was made to draw him in, but it was clear you weren't happy.

His tail paused midair behind him, and he brought it forwards, testing how angry you were by letting the tip of the limb lay by your foot.

You stared down at his tail in curiosity. You let its presence leave your mind as you turned around and asked what exactly you had to do in order to get Neteyam to understand that you couldn't have been his mate because you weren't even the same species. But then you felt the whip-like extremity slowly curl its tip around your ankle.

You went to kick it off, but the tail only slithered further up until it was snugly wrapped around your thigh.

Neteyam's heart sang out as you looked down at the tail without movement, and while in reality, you were too shocked to move, he took it as acceptance and let his large hands creep over to gently grab you again.

"No, Neteyam!" You sternly yelled as his fingers barely grasped your waist.

He let out a long groan as if he were a child being denied a treat by his mother. He couldn't possibly see what the issue was. He pulled his tail back and spoke directly to the human men for the first time since his arrival.

"Why is she so mad, huh? Tell her I'm a good choice for a mate", he couldn't wrap his head around your stubborn unwillingness to let his hands roam where they pleased, and your denial was starting to vex him.

You listened closely as Max translated the interaction between Neteyam and Norm while they spoke to each other in Na'vi.

"It's not that she think's you're a bad choice, she just doesn-", Neteyam's impatience cut off Norm.

"Good, then she can be my mate", he truly saw no issue and was at a loss as to why you weren't all over him in the same manner.

Sure, you were human, and maybe it was odd, but over the week he had been apart from you, he had never felt so lonely, and that loneliness had fueled his courage to take his first steps into the laboratory. He wanted to see you and maybe even take you outside if that was what you wanted, but it was clear you were still getting used to him for now.

"Neteyam, she doesn't know anything about--", Norm was beginning to irritate him, and Neteyam looked over to you as he spoke his following words.

"I will teach her, she will learn", Neteyam didn't care if you didn't know anything. It wasn't of any issue to him.

He would have to protect you with everything he had to keep you safe outside. He wanted you close, and saving you would keep him busy, just how he wanted to be.

Neteyam left the conversation with Norm, much to the scientist's annoyance, and shuffled closer to you, forcing you to stare up at Neteyam as he stared down at you.

"If you want me to leave, I'll leave, but I won't ever come back and you won't see me again", his words were empty, and he knew it, but his hopes were that you wouldn't catch onto his poker face and you would answer in his favor.

Norm took a turn translating for you with a sigh as he knew that Neteyam was lying. The bond between mates was too much to abandon, and while Neteyam had clearly found his points of interest in you, it seemed to be that you hadn't latched onto any intoxicating part of him as quickly.

Your face fell into sadness at the idea of never seeing him again, but you drew your lips closed in thought, trying to debate what exactly to say.

Neteyam took your silence coldly and scoffed as he shook his head in doubt before he turned to leave, but you quickly jumped up and grabbed onto the end of his braid that had nearly smacked you in the face with his momentum.

"Don't leave!" You cried out while the men behind you gasped and quickly called out for you to drop the end of the knot, which you promptly acted in compliance with.

It was Neteyam's turn to freeze at your touch. You could feel that you had done something wrong, so you went to apologize, but when Neteyam's eyes met yours, it was as if he had love hearts in place of his eyes.

He went back to ignoring Max and Norm's attendance as he pushed himself to the floor and gently approached you with open hands so he could snatch you back up and return to his favorite place; your neck.

He didn't stick around long though, and after a quick fill-up of his addiction, he replaced you. He turned to Max to toss a comment at him before he stood up and jogged over to his bow before he swiftly departed as you called out to him, letting out apology after apology in fear it was your touch that had scared him off.

"I'm sorry! Look, I didn't know! Come back here! Ugh, you can't keep your hands off me when I tell you off, and then you won't come near me when I say I'm sorry? What is with you?" You yelled out, but nothing could stop the man as he ducked his head out of the door and set off to close the airlock behind himself.

"I'm confused, what did I do?" You cried out as you spun around, seeking answers, but Max only chuckled at you as he took his glasses off to wipe them on his lab coat.

"He's not mad, he said he has to go hunting for you, it's a Na'vi courting ritual, they bring you as much as they think you're worth in food", he acted as if this was a regular thing to say while you just shook your head in bemusement.

"He realizes I probably can't eat half the stuff out there, right?" You craned your neck to see the young man had already turned tail and was nowhere to be found.

"We'll have to see because there is no doubt he's coming back for you."

:Series 𝗧𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁:

@faatxma, @nao-cchi @ellabellabus07, @neteyamforlife @wtf-why-do-i-gotta-do-this @heesoftiefreak @lixiesbrowniess  @eringaitskill @islamovice17 @sassy-persona @mashiromochi @jkeluv​ @uwu-i-purple-you​

#x reader #neteyam headcanons #neteyam imagine #neteyam x reader #neteyam #avatar 2 #awow #awow neteyam #awow x reader #pandora #awow fanfic #way of water #neteyam x y/n #avatar way of water #female reader #fluff

[growup-thatbeautiful]

timezone

Summary: Tangerine comes home. Post-Bullet proof.

A/n: i’d love to know if anyone would be interested in a prequel series about this pairing? lmk!

Word count: 2.6k

Bullet Proof Masterlist

~*~

The low hum of music playing through the small record player in the corner of the living room fills the air while you wash up the takeout containers from your dinner tonight. Jovie is fast asleep in her bedroom down the hall, curled tightly underneath her sheets.

Bedtime lasted longer tonight than usual because Tan has been on a job for the past few days. Ever since you moved back in with him, you’ve gotten used to living with him, and so has Jovie, which makes it harder when he isn’t here. You have a routine now to put Jovie to bed, an elaborate and complicated thing with many steps including kids' books and Tangerine’s own story times. So, without him, it’s been hard to convince Jovie to fall asleep these past few nights.

It took you four Dr. Seuss books and one game of hide and seek to get her into bed, which took more energy out of you than you care to admit.

Billy Joel’s crooning voice is interrupted by the ringing of your phone. Carefully, after you dry your hands, you swipe up on the screen of the photo of Tangerine and Jovie that fills it.

On the speaker, his voice fills the empty space between the two of you. You don’t know where he is at this point or if he’s finished what he needs to do- it’s too risky to discuss over the phone- but based on the sounds you think he’s driving somewhere. You can picture the way his ringed fingers grip the steering wheel, his eyes focusing on the road in front of him as neon lights pass by, reflected against the shine of the pendant around his neck.

“Hey, love,” he says, his voice sounding tired but nevertheless affectionate. “How are my girls doing?”

Your heart fills with warmth at his word choice, and you jump up on the counter to sit and talk for a while. “We’re good. I finally got Jovie to bed, though it took more convincing than usual.” Your head hits the wooden cabinet as you lean back and your eyes slide shut.

He hums in response and adds, “I swear to God, she gets her fucking energy from you. You used to be just like her “

“Because I couldn’t fucking trust you then,” you blame. “Had to sleep with my back to the door.”

“I have you no reason not to fucking trust me.” Tangerine’s voice is light, fond remembrance laced through his tone. “Even gave you the bed because I’m a gentleman.”

“You’re no such thing,” you laugh. “And I remember a conversation like this years ago where we couldn’t agree.”

Tangerine fully laughs this time, a low, happy-sounding laugh that you’ve been missing. You learned what it was like without Tan for all those years, so now every time he’s gone you feel it deeper, like something lodged inside your heart. Tan’s laughter dies down and he says. “Yeah, but we’ve fucking changed since then. You’ve come to see how much of a right pleasure I am.”

It’s your turn to hum in agreement. Silence falls between the two of you, but it’s not uncomfortable. You don’t know someone as well as Tan and have uncomfortable silences. You’ve been through so much- making it through silence isn’t the worst thing you’ve faced.

You break the silence, though, because you have to tell him how hard it’s been without him here. Even washing dishes had felt lonely without him bothering you, his front plastered against your back as he places kisses along your neck. “I’ve missed you.”

“The only thing between us is distance,” Tangerine says automatically. “And that’s fucking nothing at all, love.”

“I know.” You hate how weak your voice sounds. How emotion creeps through the cracks and seeps through the phone speaker. “It doesn’t feel like that, though.”

“That bad?” he asks. The concern in his voice carries through despite the bad quality. You don’t know if he’s alone or where he is, but it makes you feel safe somehow, knowing that he’s worried about you. As if he doesn’t already have enough to worry about.

“Not great,” you admit. “Jovie misses you too. She keeps asking me when you’ll be home, but she’s been busy with school.”

“I’m sorry, love.” It fills you with ache, how tired he sounds. You know that he trusts you- you’re not going to leave again- but that doesn’t make things like this any easier.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, or, at least, try to. “You’ll be back soon. How’s everything looking there?”

Tangerine sighs fully and tells through veiled metaphors how it’s been harder than he and Lemon thought to track down the mark they’re looking for, but he thinks that they’ve got a good lead. He tells you how the mark is usually unguarded and without weapons, so it will be easy once they actually find him. You can only hope for his safety.

But safety, in your lives, is a laughable commodity that you haven’t known for years. It’s your choice and you’ve had to live with it, through thick and thin.

“Do you need any help?” you ask when he’s done talking, praying that there’s something you can do. “I can see what I can find.”

“Love,” he says, and you can see the smile on his face from miles apart, a fond, exasperated smile that you know too well. “Enjoy your time off, I’ll be home soon.”

“You will?” You know it’s selfish, wanting him to yourself all the time. He has a job to do, and you’re distracting him, making it harder for him to get the job done. But it’s so hard when he’s so gentle like this.

“I don’t fucking care what else happens, I’m seeing you tonight, love,” Tangerine promises, his voice grainy from whatever low-quality service he’s on.

“Yeah?” you ask, smiling. It doesn’t have to be true to make you feel protected. Safe. It could be an empty promise, but you’d still have the same reaction.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s time I stop fucking about here and come to see my girls.”

You feel like a schoolgirl from the way you’re grinning into the phone and thinking about him. “I’ll be waiting, then.”

“Try to get some sleep.” You don’t know how he’s the one taking care of you right now, but it’s nice to have someone tell you what to do.

“I will. Goodnight, Tan.” As hard as you try to hide it, your voice sounds hopeful and lighter than you intend it to. The last thing you want to do is guilt him to coming home. God knows you’re already responsible for enough of his guilt.

“Night, love.”

You move through the apartment, missing him less and more at the same time. You don’t want to think about it anymore, but all you can seem to see in your mind is him- the ink tracing patterns on his skin, the cold metal of his rings, and the tidy curl of his hair. With him on the back of your eyelids, you fall asleep curled up on the couch like Jovie is in her own bed.

~*~

Tangerine’s footsteps are light on the pavement outside of his house from years of practice. There’s blood on his hands, there usually is, but he can’t care to wash it off when you’re right beyond the front door.

The key to the door slips in after a few tries and shoulders open the door, wincing as a cut along his ribs is pulled tight. He’ll have to ask you to help him with that later. For now, though, all he wants to do is see his daughter and you safely asleep. It hadn’t been a hard job, just tiring, and he's exhausted down to his bones that ache and scream for him to lie down.

He can’t do that, though, until he sees you- your face lighting up in surprise that he made it home so fast. He promised you he would, and he’d rather not show up at all than break that promise. The two of you stopped breaking promises to each other recently. Carefully, so he doesn’t wake anyone up, he steps out of his shoes and his suit jacket, putting them in their place in the hallway next to Jovie’s green raincoat and your heavy black overcoat. The very picture of a normal family, those coats. It brings a weary smile to his face.

He’s expecting you to be in bed, but you aren’t. When he finds you, you’re dead asleep on the couch, a threadbare blanket covering you as the tv plays dimly, some movie he hasn’t seen before. It looks romantic enough to be something you would pick, though.

For a moment, before he’ll carry you to your shared bed, he watches you. He’s known for years that you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, but when you’re sleeping there’s something so fragile about you. The usual strength that you carry in your frame is hidden by one of his old sweatshirts and a pile of pillows, and the creases that he usually finds in between your eyebrows aren’t there. No, like this you look like a gentler version of yourself. Someone who, maybe, hasn’t had to make so many hard choices or do so many shitty things.

But that’s not who you are, and it’s definitely not the person he fell in love with. It sounds horrible, to think that the unforgiving circumstances of your youth are what led you to him, but it’s the truth more than anything else. He can’t count the number of times you’ve bonded over your shared traumatic experiences or cried into his arms about things only he can understand.

When he tucks you into his chest and lifts you with an arm underneath your knees, you start to stir. He’s proud to see, however, that you don’t panic like he’s sure you would with anyone else. You just settle deeper into his chest and go back to sleep.

As much as he would love to immediately lay down beside you, he has to check on Jovie first. It’s irrational, his fear, but given everything that’s happened, he has to do it.

She’s fast asleep just like you are, stuffed bear held close to her chest. The nightlight plugged into her wall casts a blue light around the room, lighting her curly hair with a neon glow. You always say that Jovie looks just like him, she got his curls, but he thinks she looks like you. She has your eyes, smart and bright, and she has your strength.

Gently, he steps over to where her bed is and kisses her on her forehead. “Hey, Jovie-love. I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?” Once he’s satisfied that she’s okay, he brushes the hair out of her face and kisses her once before padding out and shutting the door without a sound.

You’re sitting up in bed when he makes it back to your room, the sleeves of his hoodie falling over your hands as you shuffle to the edge of the bed. “You’re here,” you state dumbly, a grin spreading across your face. “I thought you were being hopeful.” You rub some sleep out of your eyes and reach for him, and his heart fucking melts. He lets you draw him in closer to you and his hands find their way to cup your face. Like this with him standing, he’s much taller than you, and he’s able to really, truly see you. The relief plastered on your face and the beaming, not-quite-awake smile make everything that he had to go through to get here worth it.

“Since when have I been fucking hopeful?” Tangerine grins. “I made you a promise, didn’t I? Had to stick to it.” There’s so much truth behind his words that he’s too tired to unpack right now, but you don’t seem to mind. You especially don’t mind when he leans down and kisses you gently, at first, but with more passion when he remembers that you’re real, and you’re here, and you’re all his. Slowly, careful of his various minor injuries, he leans forward until you’re laying flat on the bed with him in between your legs. He thinks he hides the grimace of pain he makes when you skim your hands down his torso, just enough pressure to make pain bloom beneath his eyes, but you know him too well to let something like that slip his eyes.

You also know that he’s never going to ask you for help when he’s hurt. So, you stop him with a hand pushed against his chest and ask, a little breathlessly, but with narrowed eyes, “Are you hurt?”

He lets out a long, low groan and buries his head in your shoulder. He mutters under his breath, but clear enough for you to hear, “Can’t get fucking nothing by you, love.”

It’s not the right thing to say, because panic spreads across your face as you try and get him off of you, looking for any sign of pain. There are the normal bloodstains on his clothes, but you assumed those weren’t his- they usually aren’t. “Where are you hurt?” you ask, your voice an octave higher than natural and your hands not as steady as he knows they should be. “Are you okay? I swear, Tan, if you’re bleeding out and you wasted all this time-”

“-Love, does it look like I’m bleeding out?” he asks, tilting your chin up with his finger to get you to look him in the eyes. There’s still panic in your eyes, but it takes on a sharper edge when you start to focus like he knows you can. You take in his clothes, the flush on his cheeks, the strength of his arms, and the smile on his face. He doesn’t look any worse than all the other times he’s come home with scrapes and bruises.

“No,” you answer unsurely. “But you’re good at hiding things.”

Tangerine can’t help the grin that slips onto his face at your stubbornness. “It’s nothing big, yeah? Just a scrape on my ribs. Fucking prick used a knife on me.” You don’t look completely convinced, but he sees the fight drain from your posture. Whether or not you realize it, you lean into his touch and close your eyes, taking deep breaths in and out.

“I’m okay, love, I promise. Everything’s going to be alright” There he goes again, making promises that he has no right to make. But with you looking at him like moments ago, like the world was ending if he was, he can’t do anything except promise you everything. He may be a fighter, but, against you and Jovie, he’s a weak man.

In the end, you take him to the bathroom anyway and fix him up, complaining the whole time that his wound could have gotten infected if he didn’t clean it tonight. He argues back that you would have found out one way or another, so he didn’t need to tell you. Really, though, he doesn’t mind your hands smoothing over his skin, gently applying antiseptic and bandaging it up.

History has proven that he’ll let you get away with almost anything, not that you try much anymore. All you ask for is that he comes home at the end of a job, and he asks the same in return. It’s what you should have done since the beginning, but he knows it wasn’t always as clear as it is now.

It doesn’t matter anymore. You’re both here now, his arm thrown around your waist underneath the sheets, your soft breathing lulling him to a state of almost-sleep. He’ll fall asleep eventually, he’s still exhausted, but right now he’s taking the moment to enjoy being home.

With Jovie. With you.

His family.

Taglist loves: @venusthepirate @shadows-of-nyx @syd-vixious @thefloatingpickle @sallyp-53 @fictionalcomforts @s-haa @the-bisaster @phoenixhits @wee-little-mouse @cupofstarss @eefos @slut-f0r-u @lotustv @kpopgirlbtssvt @amyg1509 @tangerinesgf @earth-elemental18 @theredvelvetbitch

#tangerine #bullet proof #bullet train #tangerine x you #tangerine x reader #bullet train tangerine #tangerine bullet train #bullet proof universe #nova writes #atj #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson x you #tangerine fic #tangerine fanfic #tangerine fanfiction

[xpassengerprincessx]

I got a bullet proof heart, you’ve got a hollow point smile.

#mirror selfie #alt girl #pop punk #emo #selfie #cute #girls with piercings #girls with tattoos #tattoos #piercings #me

[amirsirwrites]

Feelings for KAY/O ❤️

It's a little rushed at the end because I just wanted to finish it fast. Got a bit of a stomachache today. Enjoy reading :)

Not requested

KAY/O x GN!reader

------

“But can he even feel emotions?” you were mulling over every single possibility right now. You’ve developed feelings for a certain robot who joined the Valorant Protocol but you weren’t taking it too well, not because you hated those feelings but because you weren’t sure if KAY/O would reciprocate them.

Jett and Phoenix were there to help you with your mini breakdown.

Phoenix slapped you on the back, “C’mon, bruv. Sure he can! I think… Well I mean he’s always so sarcastic, that’s gotta count for somethin’.” He looked to Jett for some support.

She wrapped her arm around your shoulder, backing Phoenix up, “Yeah, dongsaeng! Keep your head up, I’m sure he does. You just gotta shoot your shot.”

You sighed, rubbing the back of your head with your hand. Confessing wasn’t something you even thought about until now. You decided that before anything else, you’d go to KAY/O to ask some questions.

~~~~~~

KAY/O spends most of his time in the training room perfecting his fighting style. He requested for Max Bot to be repaired, claiming that he was the best sparring partner he’s ever had. While that may be true, everyone likes to joke that KAY/O just wants to prove that he’s the better bot of the two.

You watched him from behind the bullet-proof windows as he maneuvered skilfully over and around all the obstacles while attacking Max Bot. He had a rather aggressive fighting style so to someone like you who was more passive, you couldn’t help but be impressed by his fearlessness on field.

When he was finished with his training, he looked up to see you waving at him from the waiting room. He gave you a little wave back and walked over, going through the automatic doors. You sat in one of the swivel chairs while KAY/O went over to the work table to clean his firearm.

“So, what brings you here, Y/n?” he asked, disassembling the gun part by part.

You smiled and replied back, “Good morning to you too, robo man.”

KAY/O doesn’t really have a face so you can’t tell what he’s feeling but you have a hunch that he has a slight grin as he corrects himself, “My bad. Good morning, Y/n. Is there something I can help you with?”

You trace your fingers along the arm of the chair, pondering for a moment before answering back, “Not really help, per se, I just got a few questions for you.”

He glanced up at you for a moment, “Shoot.” before turning his head back down to focus on oiling and polishing the different parts of his gun.

“Well, I’ve been wondering - are you.. like, I dunno, able to feel stuff?”

KAY/O responded, “Physically, emotionally and mentally, yes. I can feel,” he paused and shifted his attention fully onto you, “Why do you ask?”

You shifted in your seat, not entirely sure how to answer his question without seeming suspicious. "Just.. curious. I've been thinking about it for a while, that's all."

He kept his non-existent eyes locked on you, making you avert your gaze from him so that you don't start to fidget from anxiety.

"Uh-huh.. Okay. Any other questions for me?"

Thankfully, he looked back to the table at that point.

You gritted your teeth, asking hesitantly, "Yeah. Do- Do you feel love?"

KAY/O was definitely giving you a strange look after that one. He decided to just answer your question though since he knew that you would be uncomfortable if he insisted on you telling him the truth.

“I do. Believe it or not, I care about you and everyone else. You’re all my friends.”

You nodded slowly and got up. Your poor heart was beating so fast at that point and you were satisfied with his answers so you thanked him, gave him a pat on the shoulder and walked out of the room.

Dear KAY/O was left confused.

~~~~~~

You started to become more and more nervous around KAY/O over the next few days. It was hard to focus whenever he was around. Since you started acting weirdly around him, KAY/O was worried that he’d done something to upset you.

He didn’t confront you about your behaviour, fearing that it would worsen the situation. And you didn’t tell him the truth about how you felt because you were too scared to do so. Yikes.

And then Brimstone assigned both of you on a team mission to Ascent. Shit hit the fan pretty quickly from the moment you arrived. The enemy team had a tight hold on B site, meaning retake was going to be a pain in the ass. If that wasn’t bad enough, both you and KAY/O were uncoordinated and underperforming due to the tension between you two.

Brimstone had enough and pulled the two of you to the side, “I don’t know what’s going on between you two but you better sort it out now. We cannot afford conflicts within our own team, especially right now.” He walked back to the rest of the team to give you privacy.

KAY/O sighed, “So. What’s going on?”

You clicked your tongue and looked to the robot, “Erm...”

“Just tell me, Y/n. Did I say or do something or what?”

Turning to him, you shook your head, “No, of course not! It’s.. It’s just my dumb emotions.”

‘It’s now or never,’ you thought to yourself. You took a deep breath, “Alright! Listen, KAY/O.. The reason I’ve been acting so strange is because I. have. feelings. for. you.”

He stared at you blankly.

“That’s why? Ah.. you humans are so weird. You should have just told me! Come here, Y/n.” He gently pulled you closer to him with one hand around your waist and another cupping the side of your face. He leaned in and kissed you. It was more like you kissing him since he didn't have a mouth but it was essentially the same thing.

With that kiss, all your initial worries went away. Now you just felt kind of silly about being so uptight about the whole thing.

He pulled away and gently stroked your cheek. "After we're done kicking their asses, I'll take you out on a date. Dinner, movie, dancing, it's up to you. That sound good, Y/n?"

You whispered a soft 'yes' and gave him a peck on the cheek while blushing. You could sense his smile.

Even though you wanted to stay like that, the both of you had to rush back to complete the mission when you heard Brimstone shouting for you. You couldn't wait for that date. :)

------

'Dongsaeng' - Little sibling (Korean)

#kay/o x reader #gender neutral reader #valorant x reader #valorant kay/o #one shot

[bullet-prooflove]

The North Star - Part Fourteen: Gunplay - Terry Bruno x Reader

Welcome to mine and @the-hinky-panda The Bronx universe featuring our favs Terry Bruno & Mike Duarte.

This story takes place several years after 'Blood Out'. Terry still lives in the Bronx and works in Manhatten SVU.

Following on from @the-hinky-panda story 'The Dog' Mike has retired from the NYPD on medical grounds due to seizures causes by the attack. He has a therapy dog called Bono and lives with @the-hinky-panda character Meredith.

Tagging: @mysoulisasunflower@legit9thlunaticwarrior@bbyxoo@the-adzukibean@xoxabs88xox @crazy4chickennuggets @beardedbarba @wooshwastaken @justreblogginfics @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @storiesofsvu@anime-weeb-4-life

Part One: Moments (NSFW)

Part Two: Case of the Ex

Part Three: Her Worse Half

Part Four: Always

Part Five: Ask Me Again

 Part Six: Degas

Part Seven: The Heist

Part Eight: A Part to Play

Part Nine: Home

Part Ten: Safe Space 

Part Eleven: Weak

Part Twelve: Got Your Back

Part Thirteen: Familia

It was meant to be simple, you’d done one hundred and one of these raids in your time as an police officer, as back up, on the front line. You were used to the surge of adrenaline beforehand, the thud of your heart in your chest as everything became more saturated, more focused. There was a clarity in what you’re doing, a sense of satisfaction. You know who the bad guys are, what they’ve done, you’ve seen the fallout. All that’s left is this, the apprehension.

You know they are in there, the Dewoski brothers. Leon, Mickey and Pete. Holed up in their dead mother’s house, hungover to fuck. Munson had sold them out, for immunity and a bid in the witness protection program. The fence didn’t have the stomach for the violence, he’d been selling off the Degas so he could get the hell out of dodge. Selling stolen shit was one thing but murder was a whole other ball game.

“And there’s our delivery girl.” Sinclair said from the shelter of the sedan as the two of you watched a moped pull up alongside chain link fence.

“I’m telling you McMuffins are the way to go when your hungover.” You told him, opening your car door and stepping out. “That and a Vanilla Milkshake.”

“Hm…” Sinclair shook his head. “It’s Strawberry all the way.”

You rolled your eyes before approaching the delivery driver, your badge clasped in your hand as you flashed it at her.

“I need to borrow your hat and jacket.”

It wasn’t hard to convince her. A cool story to tell in a bar over a couple of mojitos and she was sold. The jacket was baggy, fitting loosely over your bulletproof vest and sidearm. You slung the delivery bag over your shoulder, before tipping the peak of your cap to Sinclair and striding towards the front door. The burgundy paint was peeling, and the front yard had seen much better days, whatever they were spending the money on it wasn’t the upkeep of the house.

“Team Two is in position at the rear at the building.” Paul’s voice sounded over the ear piece. You ignored the way your nerves jangled at the timbre of his voice in your ear.

Sinclair and Lou followed you up the garden path, taking up residence on either side of the door. You could smell the weed permeating through the walls of the property as you stood before the door, preparing to knock.

“Team One in position.” Sinclair’s voice sounded before giving you the nod.

Your knuckles rapped on the door, scraps of crimson flaking onto your skin as you waited patiently. There was a shuffling on the opposite side, a slow shift as the locks were drawn back and Mickey’s face appeared. Bloodshot eyes, five o’clock shadow marring his jaw. His clothes looked slept in, the stench of pot clinging to him. He held the door wide, snatching up cash from the sideboard as you unzipped the waterproof coat, revealing your badge and bullet proof vest. Your Glock was already in your hand when he turned his attention back to you, his gaze falling on the gun pointed at his chest.

“NYPD.” You announced. “Put your hands on your head.”

You stepped into the building as Mickey complied.

“Team Two breach.” Sinclair uttered into the radio. You heard the back door slam open, smashing against the wall so loudly it practically vibrated through the house. A shout went up, an exclamation of surprise from another room.

Lou was already fastening the cuffs on Mickey’s wrists, his fingers curling in the guy’s collar as he yanked him towards the door. You pressed the button on your radio.

“Target One secure…”

You released the button as the gunshot rang out, cutting through the air like an explosion. Your gun swung up as plaster erupted from the wall behind you, spewing dust into the air. Sinclair was already beside you, hand on your shoulder and gun levelled at the oncoming threat. You weren’t sure which one of you saw the letters first, they were barely visible in the haze of plaster dust. However, Sinclair’s his grip relaxed almost as simultaneously as your gun dipped.

“It’s Russo…”

The first bullet impacted. A blossom of heat roaring through your chest as it smashed into you, sending you careening into the wall. Your right arm went numb, your Glock slipped from your fingers as the second one slammed into you, knocking the air right out of you chest.  Your ears were ringing like crazy, black spots speckling your vision as your knees buckled.

You didn’t remember hitting the floor, only the explosion of light behind your eyes as your head bounced off the laminate. Excruciating pain lanced through your ribs as you tried to suck in a breath, a choked rasp leaving your lips. Sinclair’s face appeared in your vision; his lips were moving but you couldn’t hear him over the rush of blood in your head. He was trying to remove the vest, you felt it loosen as he unfastened the Velcro but it didn’t seem to make a difference. You still couldn’t fucking breathe.

The darkness was charging in, enveloping your vision with every stuttered gasp.  You tried to fight it but you could feel yourself slipping backwards into the abyss.

Your fingers grasped Sinclair’s sleeve as you sank into oblivion, a final weak attempt to anchor yourself before you suffocated. There was no reprieve, no comfort, just this agony searing through your body as the shadows closed in.

Love Terry Bruno? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#detective terry bruno #terry bruno #terry bruno x reader #terry bruno x you #terry bruno fic

[leftnotright]

PROOF APOLLO WEARS HAWAIIAN SHIRTS

“The Tri-Ni-Sette machine is failing. The world will die.” “We can’t do anything going forward. Going backwards, however, is another matter.” Ryohei had his mission: To go back. To before the most recent Arcobaleno Curse, to before the slaughter of the Simone. To before the Tri-Ni-Sette System finally gave out. Ryohei was used to loss, in the ring and in life. But this time, he promises, he’ll win. Reborn had his mission: Get in this man’s pants, or die trying. After all, Reborn was nothing if not an Icarus.

(Or: The ‘size matters’ fic)

Parings: Reborn/Sasagawa Ryohei Characters: Reborn (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Ten Years Later Sasagawa Ryouhei, Sasagawa Ryouhei, Vindice (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Arcobaleno (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Checker Face | Kawahira Tags: Time Travel Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ryouhei Time Travels

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

CHAPTER 4: I’M HERE IN SEARCH OF YOUR GLORY

Ryohei ran. 

He ran until he found the main street of the town again, his heart pounding and Sun vibrant in his veins. All that meditation out the window as he desperately tried to control his breathing, trying to get that face out of his head.

Reborn. He had seen Reborn.

Tsuna’s tutor — or at least the man who would live to be.  

Ryohei clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to squeeze out the fight or flight. To try to squeeze out the heart-wrenching relief.

He had seen Reborn. His little brother’s tutor. A man who — in the form of a child — had brought his family together, who had been the one to bring him into the fold. The man who had seen Tsuna’s potential, the potential in all of them, and had directly brought about the strongest generation of the Vongola Mafia.

He had seen Reborn. Kind of. It was a version of Reborn, one who had no idea who Ryohei was or what he meant to Ryohei. 

A man untouched by years of Arcobaleno Curse. 

Ryohei turned into a store along the strip. He could still feel eyes following his back. He was still being followed.

He needed to lose him. Ryohei still had to find a way to get in contact with the Vindice, he had no time to be dodging bullets. 

Ryohei frowned to himself as he turned over a bag of apples like he was checking for blemishes. Ryohei had no idea how to get Reborn off his tail. He knew the man was smarter than him by leagues…

He went to the counter and bought the bag, 

Well, he just had to outrun him. 

Ryohei picked up his suitcase and made sure that the clasps were all in place. The sun shone bright into the townsquare, dappled by sweeping window shades. Ryohei made his way through the crowd, listening to the snippets of conversation as he did. His pace was unhurried, leisurely. If it weren’t for his suitcase, Ryohei was sure no one would have been able to spot him out of place. 

Ryohei banked a sharp left into an alley, barely wide enough for one man. A sharp right, and then a left. Ryohei jumped over boxes and skid across dried up mud.  

He could hear him up on those rooftops. The ‘clack-clack-clack’ of shoes against terracotta tile, the clatter of windows shutters slammed open. 

And he could feel the burn. Like the hot sun beating down on his nape on a mid-Summer day, relentless and burning. 

It made Ryohei sweat, it nipped at his heels, it scratched at his nape. He ran faster, breaking out of the alleys to sprint down an unoccupied lane.

Okay, ‘running away’ plan wasn’t working as, uh, planned.  Ryohei pushed on, breaking into a full out sprint even then he saw the alley end ahead of him, the path breaking for a man-made stream.

Overhead, a shadow cut through the sunshine. 

Ryohei jumped across the canal. 

A gunshot rang out.

Ryohei hit the ground and just barely moved before a flagpole fell from a balcony. Another gunshot made a dent in the cobblestone beside Ryohei’s foot.

“You’ve got quite the stamina,” he heard a voice croon from the otherside of the canal.    

Ryohei stepped back as another shot went to his feet. Then another, and another, dancing around the bullets with an increasingly narrow margin for error.

“And quite the bit of fancy footwork,” Reborn continued, and seemed to seep out from the alley and into the light, his shirt a vibrant yellow in the sun. “That footwork technique. Boxing?”

“Yeah!” Ryohei responded before he could think better, old habits that refused to actually die. 

“Oh, excellent,” Reborn smiled, hands relaxed at his side — Ryohei didn’t find that comforting in the least. “So you’re a boxer then?”

“Extremely!” Ryohei grinned. “Boxing is extreme! You should try it, you’d do great! Maybe in the featherweight category, but you’re fast!”

Reborn seemed to twitch at ‘featherweight’. 

Ryohei beamed. 

There was a soft clatter and Ryohei looked down, a dented bullet rolled away. Right, he was being shot at. Maybe, just maybe, right now was not the best time to ask Reborn to try his hand at boxing — but damn it, Ryohei knew Reborn would be great at it and he wanted to see that! Why was everything so unfair!?

Ryohei steeled himself and ran. 

Bullets ricochet off of the walls, bits of brick and masonry spraying the back of his shirt. Gunfire let loose to the left and Ryohei ducked right, slipping between large crates and into another narrow alley. 

Ryohei ducked and dove, dodging the hot metal of fresh bullets and that burning gaze on the back of his neck. 

“Oh, shit!” Ryohei swore as he came to a halt.

A tall wall of stone stood at the end of the alley, solid and thick. A dead end; Reborn had shepherded him here. 

Ryohei turned around. 

Reborn was walking down the alley, a dark shadowy silhouette against the bright mouth. His pace was casual, unhurried. He was confident that he had won, that he had Ryohei trapped in this dead end alleyway.

“Let’s make this easy on everyone,” Reborn called out, slowly walking closer. “Just tell me what I want to know, and I just might let you live.” Then he seemed to think on it for a moment, that fedora hat tilting to the side slightly. “Or not. Depending on my mood.”

Ryohei gritted his teeth and clenched his fist, waiting. He needed Reborn to get closer.

“Quiet now are we? You were chatty just a moment ago, or are you only interested in talk of boxing?”

Closer. Closer.

Reborn shrugged, “Well, you can’t say I didn’t try—”

Closer. Now!

Ryohei spun and slammed his fist into the stone wall, feeling fire and Sun burn in his blood. Brick and mortar bit into his knuckles and gave way. He felt the wall buckle and the shadow cast over his head — Ryohei sprinted, running into that cloud of dust and stone.

Gunshots rang in the air, bullets whizzed past, and then the wall crumbled behind him with a series of cacophony crashes. 

☀

Ryohei noticed he was running a lot now.

Ryohei’s arms were over his head as his feet pounded the street. A window shattered to his right and a lamppost hissed out to his left. Overhead, the sound of a jacket billowing as a shadow jumped between balconies. 

Ryohei didn’t know what he had done, but it seemed that since that day, Reborn had put a target on his back. He’d had to punch his way out of more deadends than he could count (Hayato wouldn’t have been impressed) each one harder than the last — and he couldn’t deny it: it was fun.

Between the weeks, near months, of trying to get the Vindice’s attention, and the restless, lonely nights in that shoddy little slum house Ryohei had found for himself, Reborn’s chases were so refreshing. Freeing. Exhilarating. To the point that Ryohei found himself looking forward to them. To sprinting through the back alleys, to jumping across roofs, to punching down walls, to dodging bullets.     

The screech of metal rang out and Reborn dropped from a fire escape directly into Ryohei’s path. They stood there, high strung and anticipating.

“Do you box professionally?” Reborn asked.

“Nah, never went pro,” Ryohei shrugged, watching the way the man seemed to almost frown, disappointed.

Reborn hummed quietly, eyes going over Ryohei again. 

“But you did competitively.”

“Yeah, for a few years when I was younger. It was great!” Ryohei grinned, then took off to the right, leaping over a small garden bed and around a corner.

He had begun to look forward to the conversation. Quick and snappy, almost like a disjointed flow of thought that somehow always seemed to make sense when he was running this fast. 

“This is—” Ryohei glanced at a sign he sprinted past.

Reborn answered from overhead, not even winded from the near-hour of full-speed roof-hopping. “Via Zucchero, lovely bakery further up the street—”

“Four streets south is the doner kebab shop — I want kebabs.”

Another gunshot and Ryohei tucked into a roll.  

And always, Ryohei found himself grinning. By the time Reborn cornered him down some dead end alleyway, Ryohei would be grinning like some adrenalised loon, panting and exhilarated. 

He swore he saw Reborn smile sometimes too. 

Then Ryohei would run. 

More than once over the weeks, near months, Ryohei had debated staying. Debated leaning forward and biting Reborn’s bullets — God what an extreme fight that’d be — but Ryohei would always use that hair-thin self-restraint of his and flee just in time.

Something that thin would snap eventually. 

☀

‘BERMUDA COME OUT’ was written in big, bold letters on the side of the building, harsh and angry, each letter easily metres tall. Ryohei stood there, hands on his hips, a paintbrush in his Hawaiian shirt’s breast pocket and another clutched in his hand. 

“Bitches,” he muttered under his breath, and irritably rubbed his nose, getting more bright yellow paint on his face.

He would have rathered red, to make it all foreboding and grizzly looking. Really get the message across, you know? But he had stolen the cans from a nearby construction site, so hazard yellow would have to do. 

“Hello Ryohei.”

Ryohei blinked and then turned around. Reborn had a gun pointed at him. 

“Oh, hey Reborn!” He smiled, and tossed his paintbrushes in the half-empty tin. “How are you? How was your weekend?”

It had been, maybe, two weeks ago that Ryohei had let something slip. His name hadn’t seemed like something too sensitive, ‘Ryohei’ was a rather common name. And Ryohei had thought it was unfair that he knew so much about Reborn and that Reborn knew so little. 

‘Ryohei’ was a common name, it was okay. 

“I’m well. Finished some work,” Reborn answered amiably. 

Then he pulled the trigger. Ryohei ran.

“I see you’re dipping your feet into public art installations,” Ryohei heard as he ran deeper into the back alleys of a system of warehouses and industrial buildings. “Tell me, who is Bermuda?”

Ryohei leapt over a discarded flag pole and scrambled over a chain-link fence, landing with a crash down on the gravel on the other side. He dove into an alley and tucked into a roll under haphazardly stacked wooden pallets. The crack of metal came from overhead and Ryohei threw himself up against a wall as a metal handrail hit the ground heavily, spitting gravel and dust up into the air. 

Ryohei pushed off the wall just as it became poked with bullet holes. A left and a right, he swung through the grid-like streets, bullets holes left in dusty foot-prints. 

An almighty crash echoed off the walls of the warehouses, and Ryohei barely had time to react as the thundering of hooves came paired with the guttural, almost trumpeting sound. 

Ryohei was pretty sure this was a tech and hardware manufacturing area — but Ryohei was never one to turn down a bullfight.

Ryohei turned, planted his feet and grinned when he saw the creature of pure muscle and blind rage come barrelling down the road towards him. He lowered his centre of gravity and watched it come closer, hooves crashed against the path. 

The bull met Ryohei at the intersection, horns first. Ryohei wrapped his hands around those horns and pushed back, his feet slid across the loose dust on the road. They locked in a stalemate, hot breath fanning his face and ruffling his shirt as the bull heaved and pushed against him. 

Ryohei planted his feet and grit his teeth, feeling his heart thunder in his chest as he redoubled the grip on the horns. He grunted and took a step forward and then jumped, swinging himself up onto the hump of the bull’s back. 

“Woohoo!” Ryohei cheered as the bull bucked and rebelled, running blindly through the roads, trying to smash Ryohei into the sides of buildings.         

Ryohei laughed and hooted as he held on with his legs, one hand fisted into the short mane and other raised high above his head. He rode that bull through the street, letting it bound and break through barriers, navigating this maze for him.

Another bullet grazed Ryohei’s shoulder and he glanced behind him. He couldn’t see Reborn, but Ryohei could hear his footsteps across the rooftops, and he could feel the burn of him following close behind.

Ryohei looked down to the bull and brought down his fist, letting it slam against the back of its skull. The bull dropped in a heap, eyes unfocused, unconscious.

“Thanks for the extreme ride!” Ryohei said and with a great heave, rolled it into the shade. Then he stood back and grinned, still feeling that adrenaline pumping through his veins and so giddy. “Fuck that was extreme!”

A bullet whizzed past his cheek and Ryohei scrambled back into a sprint.

“Okay, okay I’m going!” He shouted over his shoulder, laughter in his tone. 

He turned back around and gave a yelp as he hit the ground, hands over his head as the angry, vengeful honk of geese bellowed in his ears. The flap of wings and cacophonous honks were coupled with the painful pinch of their beaks, going for his calves and the ends of his Hawaiian shirts. 

“You can handle a charging bull, but crumble at the sight of a few geese?” Came the voice from the rooftops.

“You would too!” Ryohei gasped, tucking himself into a tight ball and rolled his way out of the mass of feathers and violence. “Get off me! Get off! Off- ouch!”

Ryohei grabbed the goose by the neck and threw it back into its gaggle.

“Bastard bit my dick,” Ryohei wheezed and waddled away, clenching at the leg of his khaki shorts and breathing through his teeth. 

On the nape of his neck, Ryohei could feel that burn utterly wash across him, light and fluttering like a summer breeze. He was glad to see someone was enjoying his pain. 

Ryohei pouted but continued to run, that gut-pinching pain finally starting to wear off (but never forgotten). He dodged left as a bullet chipped a building and in the distance saw the bright yellow and black barrier of a construction sight. He jumped the barrier and kept going, seeing piles of dirt and debris, and that warning sign for a pit.

Ryohei spied the large hole in the street and workmen pottering around it, shovels in hand. 

“Coming through!” He bellowed and made the jump, flying across the pit, his shirt flapping up around him.

“What the fuck?”

“Hey, isn’t that the guy who took our paint?”

Ryohei hit the other side running. He stumbled but caught his footing on the loose dirt and sand, escaping into another alley and away from the hollering workmen. 

With heart pounding and body utterly alit with energy and adrenaline, Ryohei grinned as he dodged the hail of bullets that came. They pocked the earth in his wake and Ryohei could feel the heat on his back grow more intense, burning him left and right, bullets snatching the corners of buildings and herding Ryohei like rowdy livestock down into the day’s deadend. 

Ryohei turned around.

Reborn walked down from the mouth of the alley, a stark, distinct silhouette of a fedora and sleek, suit-clad frame. He walked leisurely, unhurried. 

Ryohei clenched his fists and watched Reborn walk closer, resisting the urge to bounce on the balls of his feet. He gritted his teeth, bared in a grin. 

That hair-thin self-restraint snapped.

Ryohei wanted to fight Reborn. 

He wanted to share blows with Reborn, dodge and weave and land blow after blow. See who was faster, see who was stronger, see who could keep getting up over and over. Reborn was strong, he was fast and, God, his aim was inhuman. But Ryohei wanted to see if he could take him on, Reborn in his prime. 

That would be an extreme fight. It got his heart pounding just thinking about it.

Reborn continued to walk, his shoes made a soft ‘clack, clack’ on the road with the occasional crunch of gravel. The distance between them shrunk, one step at a time, and more and more of Reborn came into sight, the darkness almost peeling off of him.

Reborn was close. Close enough that Ryohei could see his eyes, dark as the Pit — but so bright. So full of life and light, so full of energy. 

For a moment, when he looked at those eyes — blacker than black and yet as bright as any sun — Ryohei swore he saw Reborn. 

Not the Tutor, not Tsuna’s Mentor, not that jaded, bitter and twisted Arcobaleno. Those eyes, the eyes of the Tutor were always murky, tired, worn and yet somehow burning with spite. 

In these eyes, Ryohei saw Reborn. The man who had been chasing him, playing with him, giving him an escape and laughter. Ryohei doesn’t know if it's the adrenaline in his blood, but Reborn looked — He looked so bright. Alive. Free like he had God damned wings. 

This was Reborn in his Prime. Before Tsuna, before the Curse, before it all. 

This was His Reborn.

Ryohei was elated. Ryohei was terrified. 

Ryohei needed to run. 

He spun on his heel and slammed his fist into the wall, feeling the bite of brick and braced himself for the spittle of mortar. His fist throbbed with a sharp, prickling pain. The wall stood strong. 

“Reinforced concrete with seven inches of Lightning-infused steel,” Reborn announced, the ‘clack, clack’ of his footsteps growing closer. 

Ryohei felt his heart drop. He turned again quickly and nearly choked, Reborn was so close. He back up, all the way to the wall.

Finally, finally, Reborn stopped. He watched Ryohei with those sunlit eyes. 

The sun hung directly overhead in midday, seeping into the alleyway. There was no hiding now, no shadows, no collapsing walls, no running. 

“Hello, Ryohei,” Reborn said, his voice all but a purr. A cat to the canary.

He was so close. Ryohei could smell the gunpowder and some kind of heat. 

“I think it’s time we had a good, proper chat. Sun to Sun.”

Ryohei gulped. Yeah, Reborn was definitely a Sun. He was advertising it relentlessly, at every turn, bright and vivid, huge and warm. Reborn was utterly flooding the alley with that Flame.

“What’s there to talk about?” Ryohei asked, nervous. 

He wanted to sink into the wall, through it and away from this. He didn’t know what to do, Reborn was so close. Every part of him was screaming to punch, that someone of Reborn’s skillset wouldn’t be so close without reason. He didn’t know if he was safe to push Reborn back, or if any movement would be met with a bullet.

“Oh, so many things,” Reborn continued, and took another step forward. There was a hand’s breadth between their chests. “Let’s start with who you are, Ryohei. I’ve never so much as heard of you before, and there’s no record of a ‘Ryohei’ in any boxing competitions. I should know, I’ve searched every record from Kosovo to Bhutan.”

Ryohei winced, before giving a sheepish smile.

“Well, there were no records!” He said, shrugging a bit to act cool.

“But you boxed competitively. You said so yourself, and your style is competition standard.” 

Ryohei pursed his lips a bit and slowly said, “How do you know I’m not part of some underground boxing ring?”

He wasn’t lying. Ryohei had been part of an illegal ring once. He had been fresh out of highschool and up to his eyeballs in Mafia, with too many lives in his hands but too little control of the situation. Boxing, his release, had been taken from him with graduation, and he had been too worried about leaving a paper trail in any civilian clubs. Ryohei had listened to the stories about Knuckles, his predecessor, he knew where he could go.

“Do you take me for a fool? I said, ‘no record’,” Reborn frowned.

Right, so Ryohei had just been lucky. Or maybe they did have notes on him and it just never came up — too late now, he supposed.

“Maybe they’re just really bad at keeping records? You shouldn’t be mean about it.” 

Reborn was not impressed. 

“Tell me, where did you compete, then? Perhaps I know the arena.”

Ryohei shrugged a bit and uttered a light, noncommittal, “Eh, just this little one. Well, you know, not that little — it was just a place. Kinda dark? I never really asked the name, actually.”

Ryohei blinked as it dawned on him, he didn’t actually know the name of the arena he boxed in. He could walk there, easy, but hell if he knew what they called it.

Reborn stared at him for a moment, before letting out a dissatisfied huff. Evidently, Reborn could tell that Ryohei wasn’t lying — not at hard ask, over the weeks Reborn had faced down with Ryohei’s sieve for a brain repeatedly. 

Ryohei laughed sheepishly and eyed the alley behind Reborn. 

“So you’ve fought competitively,” Reborn said slowly, and Ryohei glanced back to him. “Have you used your skills for, say, hire?”

“...For like parties?” Ryohei asked and watched Reborn’s expression twitch. “A boxer for a party? Like a boxing party — That’s an extreme idea! I gotta remember that! Oh, and those little red frankfurt sausages can be like tiny, edible boxing bags! Genius to the extreme.”

Ryohei grinned as he imagined those little cocktail sausages plated up like punching bags. If Ryohei found a club to join now that he was here — so far from everything — he was sure as hell going to put forward that idea!

Reborn’s expression was a muted mixture of exasperation and amusement. 

“I’ll make a note of that for the next time I want to see you at a sausage party,” Reborn huffed and Ryohei felt that puff of breath brush against his cheeks, reminding him just how close that hitman was standing to him.

“I was more inquiring after if you had a certain affiliation. Say, to a Famiglia?”

Ryohei gave a kind of non-commital sound as he shrugged his shoulders. His foot inched to the side, his eyes never left Reborn. 

“Famiglia? Oh yeah, my dad liked to practise with me back in the day!”

His foot slid across the gravel road, heel scraping the wall. He just needed enough room, just enough pivot, and Ryohei could get around-

The gunshot was deafening in Ryohei’s right ear. 

Ryohei took a sharp breath and gritted his teeth as the tip of Reborn’s gun touched his chin. The metal was hot against his skin, and Reborn pushed, making Ryohei tilt his head up or risk a burn.

Usually, even a round of fire would only make a pistol warm, but Reborn infused his bullets with Sun. Ryohei could feel it in the way the gun nipped at the soft skin under his chin. 

“Now, as much as I love a good chase, I think I’m due an explanation,” Reborn all but purred. 

Ryohei needed to get out of here. He couldn’t keep dodging questions like this, Reborn’s patience would run out. 

Ryohei pressed his hand to the wall behind him, reinforced masonry with Lightning-infused steel. 

Could he break through it? Not easily, but… Fuck if he didn’t want to try! An unbreakable wall?! Built specifically to block his way!? Ryohei wanted to test it so bad. How much wind up did he need? He’d need to get some Flame pumping to get through that. Maybe if he got some momentum going—

The click of a gun’s safety snapping off. Reborn’s gun pressed hard against Ryohei’s chin and tilted it higher. 

“Quite brave of you, letting your mind wander with a gun to your throat,” Reborn leaned closer, his eyes wide and bright. “What were you thinking about?”

Ryohei blinked, then he smiled and said, “I want to break the wall.”

Reborn stared with those eyes, dark as night yet brighter than any sun and Ryohei feels like he’s burning under their gaze. 

“Do you think I can do it?” Ryohei asked, hands balled into fists.

White hot, Reborn smiled with teeth.

“I want to see you do it,” Reborn said and leaned back, his gun still outstretched and aimed for a deadshot to Ryohei’s brow. 

Ryohei grinned. His heart beat was a double-time rhythm, his blood at boiling point. The barrel of the gun stared at him like a promise. The wall stood behind him like a challenge. A challenge designed for him. 

Ryohei turned and faced the wall. Seven inches of Lightning-infused steel. Reinforced masonry. All for him. Ryohei was touched. 

He sized it up, the thickness of the mortar, the weight of the stone. Ryohei fixed his stance, feet apart, centre low, Flame utterly vibrant — and eyes burning like the sun on the back of his neck. Ryohei threw his fist forward, Flame and fire alive in his blood.

His Reborn had made this challenge for him.

His fist connected. The bite of brick and mortar. The wall gave a groan, then a screech and Ryohei was swallowed by a plume of dust and Flame.

Ryohei saw the brick crumble and the warped, melted metal. Ryohei felt the heat spread across his back.

Ryohei ran.

☀

The market was quiet in the midday heat, vendors pulling shades over their wares and leaning back in chairs, riposo settling over the street. Ryohei walked about aimlessly, his hands in his pockets and his eyes to the sky. 

“Ah, little Ryo!” A voice called and Ryohei turned to see the familiar faces of the town gossips and his pseudo-informants: a trio of elderly nonnas who sat on a bench all day and somehow managed to have dirt on everyone. “Come, come, we have something to tell you!” 

Ryohei’s elbow still ached from his most recent attempt at getting the Vindice’s attention. Bringing down an old Vongola touch-stone and smearing ‘BERMUDA IS A DICK’ might not have been his most elegant of ideas but damn it, Ryohei was desperate.

“Hey nonna,” Ryohei said happily, grinning at the women over the low mood that lurched through the back of his mind. “What’s the latest?”

“Clair, from the dentist’s office?” One started immediately, like it had been bottled up for days. “She’s been having an affair! You’d think it was with Dr. Tozo, but no — with his assistant! Madeline!”

“Oh,” Ryohei blinked and winced, oh that was not going to be pretty. “Does her husband know?”

“That’s the thing,” she continued, utterly elated that he had brought it up. “He’s in on it!”

“Lower your voice,” the other hushed quickly, despite the matching grin on her own lips. 

“That’s nice! They’re having fun!” Ryohei laughed, relieved. He had had enough break-up stories for a while.

He huffed and lowered himself into a squat as he listened to the women relay to him like a disorganised news bulletin. Everything from a sudden rise in noise around the corner at night to the usual complaints about their granddaughter not getting married yet. 

“Wait, what was that?” Ryohei snapped to attention, a leaf well-shredded in his hands. 

“Isabella has been seeing this boy for years now and—”

“Not that,” Ryohei cut in, ignoring the reproachful looks he got for it. “The noise, what’s that all about?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she tsked, waving her hand. “Probably just those little boys who like to play Mafia in their gangs. Honestly, they’re going to receive a rude awakening if they ever run into real Mafiosos.”

“Mm,” Ryohei hummed quietly, “Are there many around?”

The women glanced to Ryohei, “Gangs, or Mafioso?”

“Both,” he said.

“Well, yes. And don’t go looking for them, Ryo, it’ll do you no good to get tangled up in that stuff. Heavens knows better men have been lost to them before.”

Ryohei smiled and slowly got back up, discarding the leaf in his hand. “Thanks for the advice nonna. Hope Isabella’s doing well with that guy of her’s.”

The three women shared quick looks, and each gave soft goodbyes to Ryohei. 

Ryohei scratched at his nape as he walked further into the shopping district. He had wondered how he had missed gangs hanging around, especially if they were making a ruckus in the dark hours. But, he supposed, if it didn’t really matter. Some middle-class kids were playing Mafia, he wasn’t going to go out of his way to tell them to stop — Ryohei didn’t pride himself in being a hypocrite. 

“Hey, Tony!” Ryohei called out, jogging over to a man who was packing up his store for the afternoon break. 

Tony was a portly man with a voice to match his size and a head as shiny as the apples he sold by the dozen. Ryohei always knew when the man spotted him in the crowd, the grocer always rolled the ‘R’ when he bellowed Ryohei’s name like they were life-long friends. He welcomed Ryohei with open arms and Ryohei grinned at the man.

“Ryohei, where have you been?” Tony asked.

“Eh, around,” Ryohei shrugged, leaning against the lamppost outside the storefront. “So, any talk on the town recently?”

Tony grinned as he talked, relaying the juicy stories he had heard and saw both first, second and third hand from his time in the store. He handed Ryohei a pear as he spoke, and Ryohei idly munched on the crisp fruit. 

“Hawaii guy!”

Ryohei blinked at the call but continued to munch on his pear, since he was decidedly not Hawaiian. Then something collided with the back of his knees and Ryohei had to grab the post or risk buckling to the floor. 

“Hawaii guy!” That little voice called out again and Ryohei looked down to see a young girl with tears in her eyes and hair up in a ponytail — he remembered her suddenly, one of the little girls playing with a ball, near months ago. “Can you help?! Someone grabbed Jess and I—”

Her voice hitched wetly and her face went red, nails digging into the flesh of Ryohei’s knees.

Ryohei tossed his pear into Tony’s trash bag and crouched down to the girl’s height. 

“Show me.”

The girl sucked up a shaking breath and nodded. 

Ryohei grabbed the girl by her waist and threw her up onto his shoulder. She shouted guidance into his ear as Ryohei ran through the streets, little hand fisted in his hair to keep balance. 

“Here! They took her from here!” She shouted and Ryohei screeched to a halt.

The girl clambered down off Ryohei’s shoulder and pointed around, frantic and red-faced as she tried to explain everything at once. 

“I- We were just playing, and then a car! And they grabbed Jess and I didn’t, couldn’t, I- I—”

Ryohei knelt down and nodded slowly before asking, “What colour was the car?”

The girl blinked through tears and cried out, “Uh, I don’t- White! It was white!”

“Okay, white, got it. Which way did it go?”

She looked around, reorientating herself and where she had stood during the kidnaping. Then the girl pointed with such force her elbow bounced and announced, “That way!”

Ryohei looked the way she pointed, a straight and narrow lane that broke out into the splintering backstreets of a suburbia. 

“Got it. White car, going that way. Now,” Ryohei knelt down and got the girl to look to him. “I need you to go back to the place you found me, call the cops. Tell them what you’ve told me.”

“O-Okay,” she nodded, fisting her shirt in her hands. “Okay. I’ll ask the grocery man?”

“Yeah,” Ryohei nodded. “Yeah, find the grocery man. His name is Tony.” 

The girl nodded quickly, “You’re gonna find her, right?”

Ryohei smiled and reached over to ruffle the girl’s hair, the brown strands sticking to her tear-tacky cheeks. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll find Jess.”

The girl ran off, disappearing around the corner, and Ryohei straightened. He scanned the area with his eyes, taking in every detail. 

Upturned pots riddled with cracks and poured out soil: a clear sign of struggle. And tyre tracks, etched into the curb.

Ryohei spun and burst forward to chase that car. He followed the girl’s instruction and raced to the intersection, following the main, curving lane until it splintered. Ryohei spun around and bounced irritably, before he found the lines of tyres and took off-

“You’re going the wrong way.”

Ryohei halted hard and snapped to the voice. Reborn melted out of the shadows, handsome face posed with his usual drawl smile, hat obscuring his eyes. 

Ryohei looked at the man, then to the tyre tracks.

“Okay!”

Ryohei ran the other direction, sandals clapping along the path as he made it to the main street. He grasped the corner of a low wall as he came to a stop at another junction in the road. It was quiet, everyone either resting in their homes or away at school or work. 

Ryohei went right — A bullet hit the ground with the distinct, muffled sound of a silencer. 

Ryohei dodged left and immediately set into a sprint.

A line of laundry snapped in the corner and came swinging over Ryohei’s head, bedsheets and undergarments tangling up in his arms until he ripped his way out.

“Reborn! This isn’t the time!” He bellowed and threw his arms over his head as a hail of gunshots continued to rain.

Ryohei gritted his teeth and backed away into an alley and out to its opening on the other side. Then the bullet hell stopped, and Ryohei lowered his arms slowly.

A white car was parked rather neatly along the side of a building, nicely in row with three other cars. 

“Ah! White car!” Ryohei gasped and ran over, tried peering into the windows, only to find them tinted dark. “Darn it.”

A hand came and touched the car with just the tips of its fingers. 

Ryohei looked over. He hadn't noticed Reborn get so close. That was some light footwork!

Reborn hummed and crouched down beside the car, hands already wielding a lockpick set with deft skill. He peered at the lock on the car and frowned, murmuring about ‘poor workmanship’ and ‘peg grinding’.

Ryohei shifted in the spot, trying to be patient. Then he reached over, took the door in his hands and let his Sun balloon. The door peeled from the car with a screech of metal and the crack of locks breaking. He frowned down at the car’s alarm and reached in, gripped the wires and ripped them out.

“Done this before, I see,” Reborn hummed, and Ryohei just gave a sheepish shrug and smile.

Reborn stepped forward and took over the investigation as Ryohei moved aside to toss the car door into someone’s bushes. Reborn took a pair of black leather gloves from his pocket and slipped them on, before he reached into the car.

Reborn pushed aside a box of Pueblo rolling tobacco with his finger, the corners bent and torn from frequent, careless use. An assortment of scrunched up receipts littered the floor, mostly fast food places, petrol stations and arcades. The last thing Reborn found was a green hair tie, discarded under the driver’s seat.

“Does any of this tickle your fancy?” Reborn asked as Ryohei came up behind him.

Ryohei leant over Reborn and nearly seized up at the sight of that familiar hair tie. He reached out and took the tie, “This is definitely the one I gave Jess!” Ryohei took a step back and looked to the streets, trying to find a path or hint. “We’ve gotta go! We’ve gotta find her to the extreme!”

“Why?” Reborn stood as he took off his gloves and stowed them neatly in a packet inside his jacket. “You’re certainly not going to be paid for your troubles. I assure you. Not even the police will follow this, not in this part of Sicily.” He scoffed and tilted his head, the shadow of his hat covering his eyes. “Or will you do it out of the goodness of a bleeding heart? Tens of people go missing in Italy, every day. Will you try and save all of them?”

Reborn glanced over his shoulder as a long silence filled the area. 

Ryohei blinked, snapping to attention. “Uh, sorry, kinda tuned out there. Not great with speeches. So…you comin’ or nah?”

Reborn stood there for a moment, speechless. Then he almost seemed to pout and said, “Fine.” He straightened his posture and continued, “But you’ll pay me—”

“Don’t know how to tell you this, bro, but I have no money. Like nothing,” Ryohei interrupted, stretching the hair tie across his fingers like it’d guide him like some kind of budget divining rod.

Reborn gave a huff and Ryohei yelped as the hair tie snapped back at his face.

“Then I’ll take information.”

Ryohei glanced at Reborn out of the corner of his eye, then pouted his lips and murmured, “Info on what?”

Reborn smiled and tilted his head, body leaning forward. He was almost pressing Ryohei into the side of the car behind them. 

“You, Ryohei,” Reborn said slowly, “No dodging, no lies—”

Reborn barely had time to grit his teeth as a hand grabbed him by the knot of his tie and he was slammed into the car, the two men swapping spots. Ryohei frowned something thunderous as he narrowed his eyes at Reborn.

“I never lied.”

Reborn paused; Ryohei was right. As far as Reborn was aware, Ryohei had never lied to him. 

As far as he was aware.

Reborn slowly raised a hand and laid it on the fist clenched on his collar. 

“Then you’ll have no problem answering my questions.”

Ryohei gritted his teeth and glanced to the hair tie in his free hand. He knew he wasn’t some great tracker, that had always been more up Mukuro’s alley. If he was going to find this girl, he needed help, he didn’t have time to go checking every alley and nook in a town full of them. 

Ryohei looked to Reborn, eyes dark as the Pit started back.

“Fine,” Ryohei said finally, “But there are some things I can’t answer.”

Reborn hummed a bit, and began running his thumb along the bumps of Ryohei’s knuckles in an almost absent minded manner.

“Three questions. I’ll let you veto three questions.”

Ryohei frowned. Three wasn’t a lot, and knowing Reborn, he’d ask all the right questions in just the right order. 

But — Ryohei remembered that little girl fighting with her hair. What would his Family think if he refused help from someone as capable as Reborn. He thought of that little girl, and remembered Lambo and I-Pin running around through Namimori. He thought of that little girl, and remembered how Kyoko reclined in her chair, hand on her stomach.

He got three questions.

“Fine, but,” Ryohei let go of Reborn’s collar and clenched his fist at him. “You only get three minutes.”

Three for three. The length of a boxing match. 

Ryohei could survive that. 

Reborn hummed again and tilted his head, as if regarding if the deal was worth it. Then, Reborn smiled and shrugged. 

“Very well. Three minutes. Plenty of time.”

Ryohei brought his fist and lightly knocked it against Reborn’s jaw, breaking him out of whatever master plan he had brewing in mind. His knuckles pressed into Reborn’s cheek.

“Help me find her, Reborn.”

With a fist to his jaw, Reborn stared at Ryohei, that burn back in his eyes, so hot Ryohei nearly geared for a first — Reborn grasped his wrist again and slowly, so slowly, took it from his jaw.

He squeezed it, before letting go.

“We have a deal,” Reborn said, voice pitched low. “Follow me.”

In moments, Reborn had both of them jumping roofs and clambering across balconies in a mad dash.

“Another set of tyre tracks. A hasty exit of the car, they had no tracks leading away, no time to struggle. We are following another car now.” 

Ryohei didn’t question how Reborn saw all that, nor how he could extrapolate the extra information. Ryohei believed him, and that was all he needed to know.

“Any idea what car?”

Reborn scoffed, and swung to mount a ladder. “What? Do you think I’m some kind of miracle worker?”

Ryohei didn���t miss a beat, “Kinda? Yeah?”

Reborn blinked, peering at Ryohei through the bars. Then he puffed up a bit, shoulders squared, and looked rather proud as he said, “Black car. They’re driving fast.”

Ryohei grinned at Reborn, “Knew it.”

Reborn chuffed, “Such faith.”

They hit the top of the ladder and Reborn changed directions so fast Ryohei nearly slid off the edge of a metal roof in his attempts to stop. He got back on course quickly and caught up with Reborn just in time for the hitman to grab him by the collar and drop into a crouch.

Down below them, Ryohei could hear loud voices and jeers, all of them young and male. They were shouting, cussing and laughing; well acquainted.

They moved and peered over the edge. A group of men and boys were gathered in the decrepit courtyard of an old factory. They were dressed oddly, and it made Ryohei squint in confusion. They were dressed down but everything was well kept, with polished shoes and pressed shirts. It was like they were trying to look rough, but that specific American gang type of rough. No mafioso would go around looking like some common thug.

“Oh it’s those boys,” Reborn signed, and Ryohei raised an eyebrow. “Little boys playing Mafia.”

“Oh! The ones doing the petty property damage?”

Reborn glanced to him. “I see you’ve heard of them.”

“Only a bit. Never thought they’d jump to kidnapping.”

Just as Ryohei said this, a black car rolled into the courtyard and three men stepped out. The last two were each holding one arm of a little girl, frozen stiff.

Ryohei lurched forward, but Reborn stopped him, still holding Ryohei by the collar of his Hawaiian shirt. 

“When did they get guns?” 

Ryohei looked to Reborn, then to the girl, then to the men. Then he looked back to Reborn.

“Don’t know, don’t care. I’m getting the kid out.”

It wasn’t his business where these kids got their guns. If you wanted someone to get to the root of the problem, you’d need someone as driven as Kyoya, thorough as Hayato or selfless as Tsuna. Ryohei wasn’t any of those qualities — not to the extent they would go to.

Ryohei admitted it, he was tunnel-visioned. He was only interested in what was right in front of him. 

And right in front of him was little ‘Jess’, hair a mess, too scared to shake. 

Ryohei quickly scanned the arena, maybe a dozen or more men and boys. He didn’t know how many were armed. Didn’t know what kind of weapons they had on them. 

Ryohei liked surprises. 

Ryohei must have shown his excitement on his face, because he heard Reborn sigh just before that grip on his shirt went slack. Ryohei burst from their ledge.

He hit the ground with a crash and a roll. Yells from the gang announced Ryohei’s arrival and he leapt forward, stepping and swimming and dropping those men and boys. Then he spun and surged towards those two boys holding Jess. Ryohei punched left and a quick right — a muffled gunshot and the last boy, who had appeared from behind Ryohei’s target, fell, eyes rolling back in their head.

Jess let out a tearful cry and ran to Ryohei, grabbing sticky handfuls of his Hawaiian print shirt. Ryohei knelt down as she bawled, speaking in a soft, low voice as he assured her that she was safe now.

“Hey Jess,” he greeted quietly, smiling down at the girl as she seemed to try and disappear into those neon fronds and hibiscus. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Jess took four, heaving, wet breaths and shook her head. 

“Good! That’s good,” Ryohei smiled, relieved. “Your friend sent me to come find you, she’s waiting in the townsquare with the shopkeepers. Are you able to walk?”

Again, Jess shook her head and wrapped her arms around Ryohei’s shoulders as she picked her up. 

The whole time, Ryohei could feel the heat on his name and that burn of eyes. He settled Jess on his hip and glanced at the boy who had been shot.

Non-lethal. Ryohei pushed him with his foot; the boy was just knocked out. Maybe concussed at worst. 

Ryohei looked to where Reborn stood on the building, only to find empty space. 

Jess coughed through the tears and started to hiccup against his shoulder. Ryohei rubbed his nape and started on the jog back to the square.

☀

Ryohei laid on his back, watching the shadows make shapes on the water-stained ceiling. He had gotten used to the scent of creeping damp in his apartment at this point, the near constant humidity. The sparse furniture almost reminded him of the Vongola Sun Quarters: Humble. 

Empty.

Ryohei signed and took a long breath in and out, letting his body go slack and loose on his thread-bare mattress. Then he sat up, sheets pooling in his lap.

He needed to get out. Out of the four walls and the damp and the humid and the empty. 

Ryohei grabbed a pair of sandals and the brightest shirt he had — a clash of yellows, pinks and blues — and walked out into the hot Summer night. There was no one around, even the late night drunks had gone home. Ryohei walked with his hands in his pockets and his head back, watching the stars. He walked for a while, aimless, counting stars and finding shapes in the loose, wispy clouds.

“Nice night.”

Ryohei stopped and looked to his side with his eyes. Reborn was standing beside him, head tilted back and eyes skyward, as black as the night above them. 

“Yeah, it’s warm. Good for a walk.”

Reborn glanced at Ryohei and smiled, “Nice enough for a heart-to-heart between Suns?”

Ryohei let a breath out through his nose, a long heave of defeat and anxiety. Right, he had a deal.

“Sure,” Ryohei conceded. A deal was a deal, after all, and Ryohei would be damned before he went back on his word. “Sure, what do you want to know? I’ll answer what I can.”

Reborn frowned, “That wasn’t the agreement, Ryohei.”

Ryohei winced, and gave a sheepish smile. Ah, he got caught quick,

“I said I’d answer what I can, Reborn. It’s not my choice, some answers aren’t only mine to say. That was our deal.”

Reborn pouted up at the arched ceiling, but shrugged in acceptance.

“Well then,” he said and gestured to Ryohei to lead. “Shall we sit?”

“I’d rather walk and talk.”

Reborn smiled, “Well then, would you like me to recommend a trail? Wonderful this time of night.”

Ryohei blinked and swore he could hear Hayato swearing up and down that ‘this is a trap!’ 

Maybe it's the exhaustion, maybe it's the need to be far, far away from his one-room apartment full of mould and memories, maybe it's the naïve, sweet and muscle-headed part of Ryohei that equates this Reborn, His Reborn, to freedom, release and that muscle-straining bliss.

“Sure,” Ryohei grinned, “Lead on to the extreme!”

Ryohei could confidently say he had no idea where he was as Reborn led them through a vast clearing of trees. They had left the paved streets and cobbled paths long ago, and Ryohei’s sandals were full of rocks and leaves. 

Ryohei put his hands on his hips and leant back, taking a long breath of that fresh nighttime air. This had been good for him. Shake off the anxiety, get the body moving. No better mood stabiliser than exercise!

“Nearly there,” Reborn urged, and Ryohei didn’t need to force a smile as he quickly followed.

Ryohei looked around as they kept trudging through the growth, something nagging in the back of his mind. It wasn’t that Reborn was leading him to his death or anything — it was that as they walked, Ryohei swore that…

“Oh! I know this place!” Ryohei’s bellow was like a crack in the quiet night and before Reborn could turn Ryohei had already set off in an upward sprint. 

Vaguely, Ryohei heard Reborn chase after him, gun clicking with the safety off. Ryohei’s sandals hit worn cobble and sandstone with a succession of claps on the steps of an old, forgotten chapel, blackened with weather.

Ryohei hadn’t been here in years. There had been a time, though, that this little nowhere chapel had been a frequent touchstone. He had been advised not to get too attached to any one location for his touchstones, a mafioso with a predictable haunt, was a dead one. 

Father Knuckles’ chapel was the only expectation to this rule, as the closest thing the Vongola had to ‘holy ground’.

Ryohei smiled as he gazed upon the blackened stone and weathered bricks. Even over thirty years ago, it hadn’t changed a bit. He could almost feel the stress leaving him already.

A gunshot rang out and the chains locking the doors fell to the ground. Reborn came up beside Ryohei before gesturing to the slowly opening doors.

“Shall we?” Reborn urged. 

Ryohei all but bounced into the dark chapel and set to work. He walked the aisle until he stood at the altar and rummaged through the drawers, until he found the matches exactly where they would be nearly thirty years from now.

Reborn sat himself on the frontmost pew and watched Ryohei set the candles in their station and smooth out the tablecloth.

Ryohei struck the match. Three minutes started now.

“What is your name?”

“Ryohei.”

“Last name?” Reborn pushed.

“None that matters. Not mine anymore.”

Ryohei cupped his hand around the flaming match and slowly, almost meditatively, lit a candle on the altar. Reborn frowned and Ryohei smiled, almost sheepishly.

“It won’t mean much,” Ryohei warned gently, before he said, “Sasagawa.”

“Ryohei Sasagawa,” Reborn pieced together and Ryohei withheld a wince.

He never quite got used to it said in that order. He’d better start now.

“Why are you here?” 

Ryohei lit another candle, feeling the heat on his palms.

“My family sent me to fix some things,” Ryohei answered and watched as the candlewick caught alight.

“Fix what?” 

Ryohei flicked the burnt match until it snuffed out.

“Can’t say, sorry.”

“That’s one,” Reborn uttered, almost like a warning. 

Ryohei huffed, and gave a grimace of a smile, “Sorry, not my choice.”

Reborn hummed, unaffected.

“You said ‘Family’, who are they?” 

Ryohei lit another match against the side of the box. 

“My family is my brothers and sisters,” he answered, smiling into the fire as he remembered those faces, their history. “I have a nephew on the way.”

Far away. Ryohei will have a nephew in thirty years.

Reborn was quiet as the dead behind him. No tell or clue as to what he was feeling or thinking — all except that heat that seared itself into the centre of Ryohei’s shoulders and into the flesh of his nape.

“Where are you from?”

“Japan,” Ryohei said easily and lit another candle. “But you’ll have an extremely hard time finding me, Reborn. You’re free to try if you ever get a particularly boring day, though. There are games of that, actually: missing and unsolved cases. I think you’d have fun with that!”

“Why?” 

“People like puzzles — not really my style but, ya know—”

“I meant why do you think I’d have a hard time finding you, Ryohei,” Reborn corrected, a snort of amusement to his tone. 

And a challenge. ‘Why do you think I’d have a hard time’. 

Ryohei gave a puff of a laugh sharp enough to blow out his match. 

“I don’t exist now.”

“Why?” Reborn asked again.

Ryohei shrugged, “Same reason as you, I guess.”

“So you’re Mafia connected.”

Ryohei smiled and struck another match, gently lighting the next candle and breathing in the heat.

“Yeah, you got me. I’m Mafia connected.”

“What Family?”

The match was snuffed again.

“I can’t tell you, sorry.”

Reborn made a low noise that Ryohei couldn’t pin down, and then said, “That’s two.”

Ryohei gave a weak smile and heard Reborn settle back into the pew with the low groan of wood. He lit another match.

“Are you in Harmony?”

Ryohei’s hands flinched back and the little flame on the candlewick died out before it had a chance. Ryohei thinned his lips and said, “Not anymore.”

There was a pause. 

“I see.”

Ryohei let out a long breath and snuffed the match, too low to risk. 

“Where do you currently live? Your base of operations.”

Ryohei glanced at Reborn with a raised eyebrow, but shrugged. It wasn’t like Reborn would have a hard time figuring that out on his own. At least he was being polite and asking first.

“The red building on the corner, just a bit further than where we met earlier.”

Reborn didn’t make a sound, so Ryohei struck another match. There were getting close to the end. Reborn had already asked most of the big hitter quotations and Ryohei still had one more veto. He was feeling good about this.

“Why are you looking for Bermuda?” Reborn asked.

Ryohei felt the bite of the match on the tips of his fingers.

“I can’t—”

“Then that’s three,” Reborn said and Ryohei dropped the match.

Reborn caught it before it could land on the table cloth and, with such a gentle hand, lit the final candle and let the match burn out.

“Ryohei,” Reborn said slowly, so close to taking up Ryohei’s space. “Who is Bermuda?”

“I can’t—”

“Uh-uh, remember the rules,” Reborn tutted.

Ryohei took a deep breath to try and calm himself down, trying to take in the soft scent of burnt wood and candle wax — but found himself choking on sunlight and gunpowder. The voice was beside his ear this time, so close it was practically ringing in his head.

“Answer me, Ryohei. Who is Bermuda?”

Shit. Shit! Could Ryohei tell him that? Or — Or wait. Telling someone of Reborn’s calibre who Bermuda was would definitely bring the Vindice knocking! Surely! And, yeah, they’d probably be murderous and all that, but Ryohei had really tried to do it the nice way!

“We had a deal.”

Ryohei shifted his weight then instantly regretted it, feeling how he had pressed himself along Reborn’s front. 

“I’m not meant to tell you. Just know that,” Ryohei said slowly. 

Then Ryohei flinched. Reborn rested his sharp chin on Ryohei’s shoulder, hands resting atop the altar on either side of Ryohei. An almost oppressive heat spread all the way through Ryohei, like a sweltering Summer’s day that you just couldn’t escape. 

“But you will,” Reborn hummed, and Ryohei wondered how one man could sound so satisfied.

Ryohei stared at the lit candles in front of them, all lined up and pretty on the altar. He wasn’t getting out of this.

“Bermuda is—”

Reborn let go and stepped back as he said, “Nevermind. I don’t need to know yet.” 

Ryohei spun around, his hand cradling the shoulder Reborn had occupied like he had been burnt. 

“Why spoil the fun now? A good hitman knows when to wait,” Reborn purred, “You’ll tell me, Ryohei, in due time.” Then Reborn got close, so much distance closed in a single stride. “Even if you’re gasping it out.”

Ryohei blinked. Then he grinned, eyes bright as he vehemently agreed, “Right! Earning your answers through a fair fight is the most extreme way to get to the truth!”

Afterall, Ryohei was still hankering for that fight with Reborn. A good proper one-on-one!

There was a long pause, and then Reborn let out a quick bark of a laugh, shoulder jumping as he quieted to a chuckle. Ryohei beamed. He didn’t get to see Reborn laugh often, it felt like a reward when he managed to crack Reborn’s veneer enough to get through his suave-guy exterior. 

“You want to fight?” Reborn breathed out, calm again with a small smile playing on his lips. “We can do it like that too. I’ve never been one to turn down a bit of tasteful rough play.”

Ryohei grinned wide, unabashed with his enthusiasm.

“Oh Ryohei,” Reborn sighed almost fondly.

Then Ryohei watched as the first light of the new day fell across Reborn’s face. Stained glass windows refracted blue, red, green and yellow across the man, colouring him with every shade under the rainbow.

☀

“Boss,” a voice greeted as they walked into the office. “We have been receiving multiple reports of someone leaking intel to civilians.”

“How severe?” 

“Nothing too explicit. So far, everything they’ve said can be dismissed as rumour mongering. However…I think you should look at this.”

A picture was slid onto the desk. A man was the subject of the photo, smiling wide and bright as he spoke to someone off to the side. His hair was cropped short and he had a scar across his right brow, and wore a searingly bright Hawaiian shirt.

“I know that face…”

“Yes, he looks like—”

Timoteo, the Ninth Vongola Boss, stood from his desk and crossed the room to the legacy wall. In the centre, taking the place of honour, was a large portrait of the First Generation. He reached out, photo in hand, and lined up the two pictures.

“He looks almost exactly like Father Knuckles,” Timoteo uttered and Coyote grunted in agreement. “And he’s leaking our secrets? Where is he now?”

“Not sure, we’re tracking him. But wait, it gets better,” Coyote scoffed, taking a puff of a cigar. 

Timoteo was still gazing upon the uncanny similarity between the two men depicted before him. Like the old priest had been ripped into the modern day.

“Intel says his name is Ryohei. And he’s been sighted with Reborn.”

Timoteo turned his head, eyes wide. Then he frowned, expression set in determination as he looked at this ‘Ryohei’. 

“Find him. Bring him to me, I want to talk to our new friend.”

“Of course, Boss.”

#khr #Sasagawa Ryohei #reborn #katekyo hitman reborn #fanfiction #time travel fic #fix it fic #khr rare pair #ao3 #proof apollo wear hawaiian shirts

[chaosunleashedhehehe]

Hullo, it’s ya boi again. Bored af and you know what?? We’re back at it again with a Twilight first watch/shitpost. Enjoy!

I always like how they run like toddlers. No wait? Didn’t I see this in Chucky? 🏃🏼‍➡️🔪

Bro ur making out with your girlfriend and asking her to marry you. Lameee

Babe ur worried about divorce and you’ve been jumping on his ass for two movies now. I think ur just delulu

See Charlie is the only sane person in this entire franchise. Wanting to save his daughter from Edward, absolute father material. 10/10

Charlie really on team Jacob here. Don’t blame him 🐺💕

Edward really is the type of boyfriend who wouldn’t let you walk to the store without breathing down your neck. Hah see what I did there? But he’s husband material? Okayyy

Bella’s Mom sees the red flags too!! Bella please gurllll. 🚩🚩🚩

Aweeee her mom’s so freaking sweet! Bella pay her a visit for the life of me

STEVE IS THAT YOU??

You know what song should be playing when they’re running? Wolves- by Selena Gomez

AYYYEEEE ITS WOLF BOY!!

Edward; certified gaslighter, lover of liess

Lmao. Get recked Edward. Wolf boy’s got nards

Even Jacob’s getting roasted by the boys.

I love how welcoming the wolves are to her. Very wholesome. Yet she still chose the vampire??

THANK YOU JACOB! TALK SOME SENSE INTO HER!

Mmm yes. Pocket that shirt for later. Let the stank stink 👌🏻😤

Lmaoo. Thought the boy was going to make out with Charlie real quick

Vampires can SMELL people? Huh. Seems legit 👃🏻

“Sthap. From now on I’m Switserland, okay??”

Really at each others throats there, huh?

“Doesn’t he have a shirt?” Bro I don’t think so. He’s an aPECKS predator *rawr* 🐺

Ngl. I actually kinda like the lore with the werewolves. Idk! It’s kinda cool in the midsts of all the Bella drama.

I don’t understand why Bella can’t see her family and crap. Like-?? Charlie could vibe with it- he’d be confused but he’s vibe! He wouldn’t care

“I won’t stop fighting for you until your heart stops beating”

“Well you won’t have to fight for long :/“

LMAO THE PUNCH. SHE REALLY THOUGHT

“I kissed Bella. And she broke her hand punching my face”

Charlie: *too stunned to speak*

Awee :( Poor Rosalie. I honestly feel so bad for her. At least she got her revenge!

Omg Jojo Siwa is that you??

The sniffing of the flannel has me so freaking dead 💀💀. They mf passed it around like nacho cheese dip

Grrrrr Ima angree woof >:/ 🐺🐺🐺

Ah yes. Pet the dawgy

LMAOOO. Bella really had to put out that she’s a virgin. Charlie’s so much happier

OH SHIT WELL THAT DIDNT LAST LONG HOLY FUCK— wait nvm oh well damn

“Sorry Bella, but I don’t want you to be a slut- I only consent in marriage 👊🏻😌”

The mf awkward running with Bella.

OH SHIT THEY’RE EMERGING LIKE LOCH NESS MONSTERS

CHILDREN OF THE SEA!

“Let’s face it. I AM hotter than you 😉”

Jacob really knows how to slide into those dms- and sleeping bags

Edward mf glaring daggers at him

“She could change her mind you know” sir she has the brain capacity of a spoon. I don’t think she will

JAKE STAY- WTF YOU THINK HE IS- A DOG???

Bella you’re choosing the vampire. Why do you need to lead on the wolf too?

I love how vampire are shiny on the inside too ;)

BELLA DONT JUST SIT THERE RUN??? HIDE!! Something useful!!

Talk about a neck breaking experience!

Bro really got hurt on the last leg of the fight huh?

“That’s highly dangerous”

“Well at least you’re bullet proof!”

*and scene*

#Honestly- this one was probably 5/10 for me #overall the plot was all over the place #but did have SOME moments #twilight #first watch #shitpost #pls dont take this seriously #dont at me #just a simple person trying to vibe here #enjoy

[fmhiphop]

Raising The Bar: Nas And Tobe Nwigwe Unleash TRANSFORMERS: RISE OF THE BEASTS Music Video - "On My Soul"

Nas has cranked up the excitement to a whole new level by teaming up with Tobe Nwigwe and Jacob Banks for their fresh and lively jam called "On My Soul." On the splendid day of May 18, this electrifying track was unleashed via the remarkable Mass Appeal Records, a label co-founded by Nas himself in 2014. And on June 1, Houston rapper Tobe Nwigwe and Nas dropped the music video for "On My Soul,' featured in the epic TRANSFORMERS: RISE OF THE BEASTS film. Right from the get-go of this soulful masterpiece, Tobe Nwigwe bursts onto the scene with his signature lightning-fast delivery, releasing a barrage of lyrical genius that will leave you mesmerized. Yet there is more to come! Can You Keep Up? The Challenge Of Tobe Nwigwe's Lightning-Fast Delivery As soon as those soulful beats hit, Nwigwe storms in with his trademark rapid-fire delivery, spitting out bars so scorching you'll reach for that rewind button, desperate to savor and unravel every word. It's as if he's a poetry machine gun, blasting out rhymes like bullets, leaving you in awe of his lyrical prowess. Can you keep up? Probably not, unless you've got a time machine! 'On my soul, everybody in the clique strapped, and they all on go Keep a stick, just like branch, papi, but I ain't a troll On my mama, can't nobody out here play me for no ho Guard your grill, guard your grill Ain't nobody out here hard to kill The gat I pack go, "Pap" and peel your cap from front to back.' Nas's Mechanical Flow With a booming chorus belted out by Jacob Banks, Nas kicks it up a notch. He launches into a lightning-fast verse of his own. And he stays true to the script, spitting lyrics that will have you scrunching your face in utter disbelief. How does he manage to keep up that level of intensity? It's like he's on a mission to blow our minds with every line. Are you ready to be blown away by the incredible brilliance? 'Don't slander all the banter Just one answer, I'm an animal I'm just one man, outstandin' though Part wolf, part king, part hannibal Example, proof, I'm built like I'm mechanical On the mic, I'm a cannibal You don't know who I'm family to You don't know my team, you don't know what my mans'll do Turn it up to the maximum, gorillas in the trap.' I had to turn down the volume because this heat almost burned my house down! I guess that means the gorillas got too hot and had to escape the trap! Watch the video below: The Battle For Earth Begins! TRANSFORMERS: RISE OF THE BEASTS Brings Epic Action! TRANSFORMERS: RISE OF THE BEASTS roared into action, ready to captivate moviegoers worldwide. But this time, the Autobots are embarking on a thrilling '90s globetrotting adventure that will have you asking, "Where to next?" But with the crazy-fast speeds of the Autobots, you'll be asking, "Where were we?!" We're introducing a brand-new crew of Transformers called the Maximals, joining forces with our beloved Autobots to defend planet Earth. This film was set to rock your world when it hit theaters on June 9, 2023, under the skilled direction of Steven Caple Jr. and starring Anthony Ramos and Dominique Fishback. With an all-star cast, action-packed special effects, and a story of heroic defense, the Maximals and the Autobots will ensure that this summer blockbuster is not one to miss! If you haven't seen the movie yet, get your tickets here. Who Is Tobe Nwigwe? Tobe Nwigwe is a true enigma! His music tells the story of his challenging upbringing in Alief, TX, but it also takes you on a wild journey through the hood. You know, the place where gang violence, drug deals, pimps, and prostitution are all too familiar. But here's the catch: Tobe's music is filled with undeniable authenticity that hits you right in the feels. And despite all the hardships he's faced, he remains a beacon of positivity and kindness. How does he do it? Well, Tobe's songs not only describe shootouts and the heartbreaking loss of childhood friends. They also emphasize the power of faith and the significance of having a purpose in life. It's like he's saying, "Hey, I've been through some tough stuff, but faith and purpose can help you overcome anything." Speaking of purpose, Tobe has a singular goal that drives him every day: to make purpose popular. This first-generation Nigerian kid from Alief had dreams of playing in the NFL, with a college football scholarship and all. But then, fate intervened and handed him a career-ending foot injury during his senior year. Ouch, right? It could have been the end of the road for many people, but not for Tobe. In the depths of his despair, he turned to his faith and discovered a new calling: to teach others how to "move with purpose." Changing Lives Beyond Music Even before Tobe picked up a pen and called himself a rapper, he made an impact. He started a nonprofit foundation called TEAM GINI and began speaking to rooms full of students, enlightening them about the incredible benefits of living a purpose-driven life. Tobe changed lives even before he knew he had the power to move people with his music. And wow, did he succeed! Through constant consistency and flawless execution, Tobe has attracted fans from all corners of the globe. We're talking about big names here, like Erykah Badu, Sway Calloway, and Dave Chappelle. How awesome is that? The next time you listen to Tobe Nwigwe's music, let it take you on a trip through the hood and remind you of the power of belief and purpose. And hey, if Tobe can overcome obstacles with grace and positivity, what's stopping you from doing the same? Written by Nikiya Biggs | LinkedIn | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram Follow and like FMHipHop on Twitter, YouTube, Facebook, Instagram, and Spotify! Read the full article

[clairecrive]

hiii! um i had a request if that’s alright? umm a darkling x tidemaker!reader where the reader slowly grows more and more jealous of alina until she finally snaps and tries to leave with another tidemaker to train with master tidemakers for the kings army but then darkling stops her. with a happy ending please 🥺🥺

Where your heart is

A/n; this took a life of its own but I'm still not too sure about it even though I had lots of fun writing it. Hope you'll like it, 🌻x

Word count: 2.4K +

Warnings: angst, darklina, jelousy

Tags: @blackst0nes7077 , @thefictionalgemini , @louweasleymalfoy , @jupiterandbutterflies , @for-bebbanburg , @tarkanelima-blog , @pansysgirlfriend , @acciorudolphx , @kaqua , @hannaxmaria , @vintagebitc , @deardiarystuff, @emmaev , @aleksanderwh0r3 , @hazelrose14, @crowssixof , @qhbr2013 , @odetostep , @strawb3rrydr3ss , @lizzie-he4rts , @korol-lantsov , @shadow4ndbone, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @mriddlemethis , @secretsthathauntus , @carnationworld (tag list form)

SHADOW AND BONE MASTERLIST

He was her mentor. He was the only one who could help her through the discovery and understanding of her powers. That's why he was spending so much time with her. No other reason.

At least that's what you've been telling yourself over and over in hope that you'd start believing it. So far, you had no success. And this had been going on since the day Alina had arrived at the Little Palace a month ago so you didn't harbour any hopes that it'll start working.

But what could you do?

He was spending every waking moment between his War room and the training grounds with Alina. You could see the allure that she had to have in his eyes.

He had been waiting for her for a long time, after all. You couldn't even be mad at him for investing his energies to help her harness her powers since she was the key to Ravka freedom. And, to be fair, Alina wasn't that bad.

Sure, you had to get through many layers of snarky remarks and dry humour that most of the times felt a lot like rudeness rather than humour. But she wasn't that bad. Not when there were people like Zoya walking around.

But the days without seeing him, with just a passing glance or a touch of his hand on your back were taking their toll on you. You missed him.

You had gone from seeing him every day to not seeing him at all.

You had tried to talk to him about it but he.was.always.busy. Or with Alina. You weren't proud to admit it, and you probably never will out loud, but a certain green monster had taken residence on your shoulders.

You were taking your usual stroll around the gardens when you spotted him outside the Palace's main entrance. Hurrying your steps, you called his name to catch his attention.

"Aleksander!"

Fortunately, he heard you and turned to see who was calling him. There were few people who knew his name and there was no chance in hell it would be Baghra. His lips morphed in a small smile as he watched you approaching with a sprint in your steps.

"Hey, I'm so glad I've caught you, it's been ages since I've-" you stopped when you saw Alina's approaching figure. Your eyes darted from her to Aleksander in front of you and you've finally noticed the two horses.

He wasn't wearing his cloak and of course, where Alina was Aleksander followed. Your lips thinned in a line as you rolled your shoulders back. You knew that Aleksander had noticed your expression change but you hadn't had centuries of practice to scholar your features into betraying nothing. But you forced yourself to at least keep up the appearances with Alina.

You gave her a smile when she stood before you complimenting her hair.

"Genya's handiwork," she simply said as it was enough to explain everything.

"Well, I'm going to leave you to your outing," you said hoping they couldn't notice the strain in your smile. Turning around, you retraced your steps to where you had been standing before and where you should have stayed all this time.

It was clear now- what other signs did he need to give you? Swallowing the lump in your throat, you forced yourself to not let the tears fall. You could feel his eyes on you until the sounds of hooves hitting the gravel told you that they were gone.

However much it hurt you to see again and again the proof that you were losing him, there was still a part of you that told you that this was just a phase. A temporary arrangement, given Aleksander's plans for Ravka. You just had to bite the bullet until it was all over.

And so, with renowned hope, you decided that you were going to talk to him. Even if you had to wait for him for hours or meet him at the brink of dawn, you had to do it. You needed to know where his heart was and from that, you could decide where to go.

However, to your luck, today was the day of the Winter Fete. Everyone, including you, was going to be super busy with finalizing the last minute details and rehearsals. Every Grisha had a role in tonight demonstration even though the star of the whole night was, of course, the Sun Summoner.

Since you were a tidemaker, your manifestation was scheduled before Alina's grand entrance. You and the other tidemakers had prepared a light show, along with Alina, to use water to reflect and amplify Alina's light so as to create a beautiful play of light.

The whole ordeal ended in time for Alina to get back inside the Palace and get on stage and for everyone else to get inside too to witness her exhibition. You followed along with everyone else but alas, you really wished you hadn't.

Aleksander had eyes only for Alina, he never looked away from her even when the light got blinding for everyone else in the room. And you couldn't blame him- Alina was literally glowing. She looked amazing in that black kefta and the symbolism of the colour wasn't lost on you.

You had been a fool, that's what you were. It was painfully obvious how whipped Aleksander was for Alina. Each of those signs was a painful blow to your heart and faith in him. His outings with her, her black kefta, the smile she sent his way and how enthralled he was by her.

Shaking your head, you fought to keep your composure. You had lost him, you realized. You had to accept the fact that it was over. Whatever you had, it had come to an end. The moment it did, was lost on you but you knew it had to coincide with the moment he had met Alina.

As if to confirm your inward musings, Alina and Aleksander walked out of the room, her under his arm.

Well, it was settled then. You couldn't stay here anymore. It was one thing to break up and grow apart but it was a whole other thing to watch him being in love with someone else.

You had to go. That was certain.

Nodding to yourself, you took your final decision just as they walked past you. Aleksander's eyes met yours briefly, just long enough for you to send him a teary glare.

This was the last time you were going to see him and as much as you could feel your heart breaking, you knew that it was something you had to do. They walked out of the room and you wasted no time in leaving as well.

However, before going to your room to pack the few belongings you had, there was somewhere else you needed to go first.

The wind blew harshly on your face, the salt of the sea breeze mixing with that of your tears. Alone on the dock, you allowed yourself to cry. To finally let out everything you had been keeping under lock and key for so very long.

You tried to comfort yourself by reassuring yourself that this was the right choice. The best choice. To stay in a place where you had never truly felt at home, where every nook and cranny reminded you of what you had and what you had lost- of the fact that you hadn't been enough. That your love hadn't been enough for him to stick around, to choose you over a girl he had known for about a day. Everything you had shared, the months spent together in intimacy under his sheets or under the comfort of your favourite tree.

Vanished. Erased. Worthless.

You allowed yourself to feel every ounce of pain his dismissing behaviour had caused you because as soon as you boarded, you were going to leave all of this behind. You were sailing towards your future, towards a new land full of opportunities and new people. Somewhere where you could start fresh.

You heard someone shout the name of the ship you had to be on and knew that the moment had come. Here you were about to step into your new life.

Heaving a sigh, you threw a last look in the Little Palace direction, at what-or rather- who you were leaving behind. Turning around, you gathered your kefta closer to your body to shield you from the harsh weather. As you were about to move, a hand clamping on your back, stopped you.

You winced, not expecting the contact since you thought you were the only one on the dock. Turning around, you were met with a familiar pair of onyx eyes.

"What are you doing?" he asked, an edge on his voice that you couldn't figure out if it was surprise, betrayal or boredom.

"I could ask you the same thing, General." Taking a step back, his hand fell from your shoulder as you put some distance between you. Standing so close to him just as you were about to bid him goodbye forever felt like a cruel joke on destiny's part.

"So this is what you do? Leave in the middle of the night without telling anyone?"

"Those who needed to be, have been rightly notified of my departure. I don't see how this concerns you, though."

"You don't see-" he huffed out, a humourless laugh leaving him," how, in the name of all saints, don't you see how this concerns me?"

"This is the first time you've spoken to me in months, Aleksander so please spare me this bullshit. I've got it, alright?" Raising your hands you took yet another step away from him. "There's no need for you to be here and pretend anymore. Go back to your party and your Grisha and your girl."

"You're my girl," he stated somehow still calmly.

"No, I'm not," you scoffed, "and you've done a fine job proving that these past few months."

"I know I've been neglecting you, but what's a few months when we have a lifetime together in front of us?" he conceded taking a step towards you as his arms widened as if to show you the length of time you'd be spending together.

"It's everything, Aleks," you snapped as your emotions got the best of you, "seeing you getting cosy with Alina every day realising that the more time passed the less you were mine was excruciating and I'm done. I'm going away and I'm leaving all of this behind."

"You can't go."

"Watch me," you quipped as you turned around. Challenging you was not the best way for him to go about this. He knew better than anyone who proudful you could be.

"You cannot go," he... begged? the tone of his voice was so weird coming from him that had you pivot immediately. "You cannot leave. You cannot leave me."

You stood there, hair blowing everywhere for the harsh wind, just staring at him. You'd never seen him so emotional. Yes, you'd shared some intimate moments but he'd never been quite this open about his feelings. The sight of his teary eyes was so unfamiliar that made your brain short-circuiting.

Taking a shaky breath, Aleksander took a step in your direction, getting closer to you but still not close yet.

"Everything that I've ever done has been for a sole purpose, y/n, you know it. And you have to believe me, Alina plays a role in this as well."

"I know she does, it's obvious to everyone. It just has become painfully obvious to me tonight just how important she's come to mean to you." You shrugged as you looked away. Admitting this while also looking him in the eyes was an impossible feat.

"She may as well be the Sun Summoner, but you're my solnishko, y/n." He murmured softly as he took another step, this time getting close enough to you to reach for your hands.

"Sweet talking isn't going to change anything, Aleksander. I saw how you looked at her, I saw her wearing your colours. Do you take me for a fool?"

"Of course not," he disagreed vehemently, "but it's as I've told you, my dear, please believe me. Every action had its purpose which was not hurting you or expressing my love for Alina." He insisted, his hands squeezing yours. His eyes flickered between you and you spotted hopefulness as well as sincerity in them. Which made you hesitate.

Could it be...?

"But why didn't you tell me so, then? Why cutting me out dry without a word?" you uttered, afraid to believe him, afraid to let your heart hope again.

"It has been a play, solnishko. Ever since Alina has stepped foot inside the Little Palace, all eyes have been on us. I had a part to play and so did she. Unfortunately, I couldn't risk it." He explained, his eyes taking in your features, noting how hesitant you still were.

"I swear, my love, you should hear her. The only thing she can talk about it's her childhood best friend who seems so boring, I can't see what she sees in him." He added smiling hoping to lighten the mood. And as a matter of fact, he was rewarded with your giggles.

"Really?"

"I'd never lie to you," he murmured solemnly, his head tilting down toward yours. You met him halfway, your nose bumping softly with his.

"You better never start, Sasha," you warned lightly as he gave you an Eskimo kiss, his hands reaching up to hold your cheeks.

"Never," he promised on your lips. His trailed over yours softly before tilting his head to the side and letting them finally touch.

It has been so long since you've last shared a kiss that you'd almost forgotten how it felt like. How soft his lips were, how voracious he could be, how he always tasted of something sweet.

You gasped as his tongue trailed over your lower lip giving him the desired opportunity to sneak in and meet your tongue. Moaning, you moved your lips with his, hands sneaking through his hair to hold him close. The kiss came to a stop when you both were out of breath. He didn't get far away though as he rested his forehead on yours.

"The captain is going to be really mad at me." You murmured as you heard another shout coming from the end of the dock.

"Let me deal with him," he reassured you before giving you another small kiss. With that, he stepped away and headed over to where your ship was anchored.

You stood there, your fingers touching your lips, still in trance after what happened. So, you had never lost him. He had always been yours.

The realisation made you smile and as you watched his cape blowing in the wind you felt reassured. You knew he had plans but those were never the problem. You could bear seeing him with Alina if you knew that you were the only one in his heart and bed. And it seemed that you weren't the only one who wanted to keep it this way.

#aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova angst #aleksander morozova fluff #aleksander morozova x you #aleksander morozova imagine #aleksander morozova imagines #aleksander morozova one shot #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan x you #general kirigan angst #general kirigan imagine #general kirigan one shot #general kirigan fluff #the darkling #the darkling x reader #the darkling x you #the darkling imagines #the darkling imagine #the darkling angst #the darkling fluff #the darkling fic #shadow and bone #grishaverse

[plutoniumsourcandy]

self indulgent Kobra Kid dad posting

“Hey there, kid. How’re you feeling? That’s good to hear. The Zones are kinda dead today, no Dracs are out there right now. D’you wanna take a ride in the Trans AM later after the blaze dies down? Alright, sounds like a plan to me. C’mere- You’re fine, you can lean up against me. I’ve got you, kiddo, nothin’ to worry about.”

#I’m cringe but I’m free #father figure /insert picture of blond guy in sunglasses who breaks people’s necks/ #kobra kid #parental f/o #s/i #self indulgent headcanons #you’ve got a bullet proof heart

[wellthebardsdead]

An au where Gabe happened to find himself in the right place at the right time, enjoy ~Bambi

———

Gabe: *quietly stalking the streets of Houston texas, eyes peeled for any signs of null sector activity* …

Ana: *over the com* area cleared. Threat neutralised. Any activity on your end Gabriel?

Gabe: nothing here, seems the attack was localised to the cbd-

*CRASH!*

Gabe: *immediately readys his weapon and aims for an alleyway* hold that note captain- *slowly begins approaching the source of the sound* …

*rustling and another clang of a trash can lid*

Gabe: *curiously lowers his guns and unclips the flashlight from his belt pointing it into the dark thinking it might be an animal only for it to land on a very startled 5 to 6yr old boy* what the?

???: *immediately drops the scraps he’d been holding and climbs out of the trash can only to fall flat onto the ground* OW!! *lays there for a second and starts to cry as he crawls out*

Gabe: *quickly hurries over* ey, hold on hold on shhh shhh shhh you’re okay mijo calm down. *carefully picks him up and feels his heart shatter feeling all his little ribs even though his gloves*

???: *now bawling his eyes out and kicking his little legs* d-Dont t-take m-me back m-mr!

Gabe: shhh shhh It’s alright, take you back where? I promise I won’t.

???: *hiccups rubbing his eyes and face with his very dirty sleeves* t-to the mean p-people- I don’t wanna go back!

Gabe: *carefully adjusts his hold on the boy and sits him on his hip* okay, okay, I won’t take you back to the mean people…

Ana: *over the com* commander?

Gabe: unattended child, considering abandoned. Have medics on site to access him when we arrive, heading back now.

Ana: copy that.

Gabe: *turns off the com and looks at the boy clinging to his bullet proof vest and literally shaking in his arms* what’s your name mijo?…

???: m-mama called me Cole.

Gabe: like a coal train?? Choo Choo~ *mimics the movement of pulling the cord to make the sound*

Cole: *giggles a little and nods* m-mmhmm!

Gabe: Well then it’s nice to meet you Cole, I’m commander reyes… *quietly looks at the scrawny child and immediately makes up his mind* I’m gonna be taking care of you from now on.

*a few hours later*

Cole: *all clean and warm, belly full after a huge meal, and tucked in safe and sound in gabes hotel bed*

Gabe: *sitting at a table looking through files with ana* so you found his foster home?

Ana: Mhm, he ran away 4 weeks ago, they never reported him missing and continued collecting the government funding. The place was filled with equally abused kids…

Gabe: and they’re?

Ana: safe, we’ve had them moved to the Overwatch orphanage society. They’re getting proper care and treatment as we speak.

Gabe: good…

Ana: are you sure about this Gabriel?

Gabe: I already got a son, he’s been wanting a brother too. *smiles and finishes signing the adoption papers* besides, it’s not like Martina and I are together anymore… now I just have Jack to deal with heh…

Ana: *looks at him then at the little boy sleeping so soundly just a few feet from them* …Personally, I think this is the best decision you’ve ever made, Gabriel.

Gabe: wasn’t really much of a decision to be made. *looks at Cole and smiles* Hed already made my mind up for me.

#overwatch #overwatch shitposts #cole cassidy #gabriel reyes #Ana amari

[growup-thatbeautiful]

For Bullet Proof maybe you could write something where Tan and the reader do like a small little ceremony of just like them, Jovie, and Lemon where they get remarried

SHIT OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU SO MUCH i’m literally rewatching bullet train rn this is fucking insane. pls anon i pledge my full love to you 💕💕

Word Count: 3.8k

Taglist: @venusthepirate @shadows-of-nyx @syd-vixious @thefloatingpickle @sallyp-53 @fictionalcomforts @s-haa @the-bisaster @phoenixhits @wee-little-mouse @cupofstarss @eefos @slut-f0r-u @lotustv

Bullet Train Masterlist

This takes place as part of the Bullet Proof Series!

oh, i'm falling in love again

It’s bedtime for Joive, a nightly routine that, over time, you’ve perfected down to the minute. You wash the dishes from dinner, mostly because Tangerine’s usually the one who cooks, while he gets Jovie into her pajamas and brushes her teeth. By the time you’re done, most of the time Tangerine and Jovie are in her bedroom, reading a book together, waiting for you. First, you say goodnight to Jovie and then it’s Tangerine’s turn. Tonight, he’s wearing a worn black t-shirt that, more nights than not, you end up stealing from him. The grey sweatpants that adorn his long legs have also seen better days, but the fact that Tangerine’s comfortable enough to be comfortable with you is heartwarming on its own. 

It’s been like this ever since you got your life with Tangerine back almost a year ago.

And what a year it's been. Of course, there are hard times. Tangerine still has to go on missions, you still worry yourself to tears when he doesn’t come home on time, and Jovie misses him like no other when he’s gone. On days when you’re both working it’s absolutely miserable, leaving Jovie with whoever you trust enough at the time to take care of her. Unfortunately, most of the time when Tangerine is working, Lemon is too, so your options are limited. 

But you wouldn’t change it for anything, especially not when you get to watch Tangerine say goodnight to your Jovie in his own special way. 

“Daddy?” Jovie’s sleepy voice filters through the air, matching the white curtains that float through the air with the wind billowing through the open window. Her hair pillows around her head as she lays in her bed, covers pulled up around her chest. The lavender walls around her cast a sweet glow over the room, a haze you could get lost in and have gotten lost in many times. It’s its own little world, the three of you undisturbed by whatever mission file is sitting on the kitchen table. 

Tangerine is laying on his side next to Jovie on the bed, and you’re standing in the doorway, leaning against the wooden frame. “Yeah, love?” Tangerine responds, turning his full attention to the little girl. 

In her arms, Jovie holds her stuffed bear tighter to her chest and curls up closer to Tangerine. “What’s it like to be in love?” 

“What’s it like to be in love?” Tangerine repeats slowly. He glances over at you for a second, and you offer a shrug. Jovie comes home with the strangest things from school, so you’ve learned just to go with it. With a nod, Jovie continues looking at Tangerine with her wide eyes.“It’s like a warm hug.” Tangerine’s voice is fond as he wraps Jovie in his arms, her giggling filling the space between them. 

When he lets go, Jovie asks another question, curiosity in her voice. “Do you love Uncle Lemon?” 

“Uncle Lemon’s a twat,” Tangerine says matter-of-factly, twirling a lock of Jovie’s hair and brushing it hair out of her face. “But yes, I love Uncle Lemon. He’s my brother.” 

Jovie looks at you leaning against the doorway. “Do you love Mommy?” Instinctively, you glance at Tangerine, who’s looking right back at you, his grey-blue eyes piercing into yours, in the gentle way he can somehow manage. 

“I love your mom more than I ever thought I could love anyone else,” Tangerine admits softly, his eyes not leaving yours. 

“How did you know you loved her? Did your heart give you a hug?” 

“Yeah, Jovie-love, my heart told me. It ain’t easy to listen to your heart, but when you know you love someone, you want to be with them forever.” 

“So you marry them,” Jovie stares, an excited look in her eyes. “Like you married Mommy.”

“That’s right, Jovie-love.” There’s the softest smile on Tangerine’s face, and you’re certain that there’s a matching one on yours. Jovie’s been through a lot, but the fact that she’s able to now live with so much love in her life tells you that it’s all been worth it.

Jovie yawns widely and leans further into her pillows. “I think it’s time to go to sleep now,” Tangerine laughs. Carefully, he places a gentle kiss on her forehead and untangles his limbs before walking over to you and kissing you chastely on your lips. “I swear to God, next time Jovie starts asking those questions, I’m fucking walking out. Who the fuck is telling our girl about being in love.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, running your hands across his chest. “It’s such a shame that our daughter knows how much her parents love each other. Unacceptable.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he responds, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you through the hallway and to your bedroom. “It ain’t right. She’s too young to fuck about with that stuff.” 

You hum non-committedly and Tangerine kisses you, your back against the wall. “I know.” 

Tangerine’s head finds a home in the crook of your neck and your hands automatically run through his hair in soothing motions. “You can’t help but protect her, Tan. It’s your nature to protect the people you love.”

“She’s getting older so much faster than I thought it would happen. I mean, for fuck’s sake, it feels like it was just yesterday that she was learning to walk.” Tangerine’s words are spoken into the cotton of your t-shirt, reverent and reminiscing. You can’t help the memories that flood your mind of the growth Jovie’s gone through over the years.

“Remember when she used to wrap her hand around your finger? She was so fucking tiny,” you recall fondly, leaning your head back against the wall. Tangerine lends heavily against you, the wall supporting you both. “She seemed so fragile then, like she would break at any movement.” You remember the feeling well when Jovie was like a little porcelain doll who would shatter if you put her down too roughly. 

“Not anymore,” Tangerine proudly admits. “Not our girl. Tough as nails, that one. She’s going to give the world hell. I think she gets that from you.”

“Let’s say it’s from both of us,” you suggest. “She’s going to turn out alright, I think. She’s got a pretty good dad.” 

“Don’t sell yourself short, love.” Tangerine raises his head and looks at you, brown hair falling into his face. “You might have a little bit to do with Jovie’s success.”

“Wow,” you reply, sarcasm dripping from your voice, “Thanks, Tan. It’s good to feel appreciated.”

As you push off of the wall, Tangerine laughs and winks at you, grabbing your hand and following you into the bedroom. “I told you at our wedding that I would never let a compliment moment go by, didn’t I?” 

“Do you ever think about it?” you ask, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching as Tangerine places his rings in the tray on his side table. “Our wedding?”

“Of course I do, love,” he answers easily, sitting down next to you, his hand resting on your thigh. “It was a fucking disaster.” 

“It wasn’t that bad,” you argue, flopping back against the mattress and bringing him with you. He lays next to you and grabs your hand, his fingers linking with yours, resting them on his stomach where his shirt rides up. 

You can feel his gaze on the side of your face, his raised eyebrows and judging eyes. “Darling, the room was literally on fire. I think that counts as a disaster.” 

“Yeah, but we have a fucking good story to tell.” Your eyes meet his and you can’t help but smile that one smile that you have reserved just for him and Jovie. The one that breaks down all your walls. 

“That it is,” Tangerine agrees. Then, sitting up on his elbows, he leans over you and asks, “Do you know what Jovie asked me the other day?” “What’s that?” you question, grinning as Tangerine traps you under him, his hands next to your head. 

“She asked me if we were still married.” Despite the light tone he uses, you can see the worry on Tangerine's face; the crease of his eyebrows, and the concern in his eyes.

After a moment's pause, you respond uncertainly, “We…are, right? I mean, just because we weren’t together for a little while-”

“-more than a little while,” Tangerine interrupts quickly, his eyebrows raised at you. “It was almost two fucking years without you.”

“Right,” you agree. “We weren’t together for two years, but I’m still your wife and you’re still my husband, yeah?” Your hand comes up to cup Tangerine’s face in your palm, tracing over his features. You know them by heart, even though they’ve changed over the years. He has a hairline scar above one of his eyebrows, and the lines around his eyes are more defined, but he’s still the same man you fell in love with. You could still find him out of anyone else.

“That’s what I think. It ain’t like we got an official divorce.” Tangerine searches your face for approval, which you readily give with a nod. He takes a deep breath before he continues. “I have an idea.”

“Yeah?” You try to soothe him by bringing him closer to you when you read the nerves that flow through his body, the tension that thrums underneath his skin and your hands. “What it is?” 

“I want to marry you again.” There’s surety and strength in his voice that wasn’t there before, strength that he draws from you. 

You’re not positive that you heard him right. “You what?” Softer, this time, he says, “I want to marry you again. I want you to walk down a rose-petal aisle while music plays in the background and Jovie stands next to me. I want to see Lemon cry like he always does at weddings, and I want to see you in a white dress looking like a fucking angel. I want to retell the world that you’re mine, and I want you to want the same thing.”

“Tan,” you say because you’re at a loss for any other words. “You really want that?”

“Of course I do, love. Do you?”

“Yes,” you laugh, “Yes, I do.” Unable to contain your joy, you bring Tangerine’s face down to meet yours in a crushing, crashing kiss.Tangerine follows your lead easily, his hair brushing against your forehead as he kisses you, his legs finding their way in between your own. 

“Love,” he mutters, “I can’t fucking wait for you to be my wife again.”

~*~

As it turns out, planning a wedding is harder than you remember it being. Somehow, in the fog of memories from your first wedding, you forgot how much trouble it was to arrange all the details. After multiple breakdowns, mostly on your end, you two decide that a small ceremony without much pomp is the best decision for you. Jovie and Lemon are really the only ones that you need there, and, you figure, fancy things were for your first wedding. Jovie was the only one who had requested, once she heard about the plan, and they were simple things. She wanted a matching dress with you and to be the flower girl, which are easy enough to figure out. 

Your dress choice, influenced by Jovie, is flowing and white, with sleeves that lay off your shoulders and gold-accented jewelry, to match Tangerine’s rings and necklace. Tangerine decides to wear his trademark suit, a dark blue jacket and vest with a striped lighter blue dress shirt underneath. His hair, like usual, is slicked back, the ends curling around his ears endearingly. 

The flower petals are even easier to find, and Jovie chooses wine-colored rose petals to match the lipstick that you wear and the color of Lemon’s dress shirt. 

Your choice of location is the most simple of all: your backyard, underneath the stars, just like when Tangerine proposed. The porch light isn’t exactly the most romantic of lighting or locations, but the way you’re able to feel safe from harm's way is irreplaceable. And, it didn’t take long to set up either, which is a win with your busy schedules. 

You’re fixing the collar of Jovie’s dress while Lemon and Tangerine get ready next to you, and Jovie fidgets with the basket of petals in her hands. “Mommy?”

“Yes, baby?” you respond, moving to her hair. Lemon helped you do it in some style that you have no clue how to do, a braided bun that makes her look a lot older than five years. 

“I need to go get my bear. He wouldn’t want to miss this.”

“Okay, love. I think I saw him in the living room on the couch,” you reply, patting Jovie’s cheek before she runs to get her bear. 

“Let’s fucking do this, yeah?” Lemon says when she’s gone. “Second time’s the charm, that’s what I always say.” There’s affection in his voice, along with the exasperation that’s only possible between brothers. 

“Fuck off, you prick,” Tangerine responds, fixing the lapels of his jacket. “And don’t bring up some Thomas the Tank shit, yeah?”

“If Thomas can’t tell you about love, no one can,” Lemon argues. “There’s no one better to talk about than Thomas when vows are exchanged. Plus, it would make Jovie happy.”

“He’s got you there, love,” you laugh. “If there’s anyone who would appreciate Thomas at our wedding besides Lemon, it’s Jovie.” Tangerine’s eyes narrow as he looks between the two of you. “I’m not a fan of you two ganging up on me.” 

“Funny, I was going to say the opposite,” Lemon cheerily adds.

“Lighten up, bruv. It’s only once you get married to a girl like her.” The laughter in Lemon’s eyes doesn’t humor Tangerine, but you can tell he’s not really upset by the way he rolls his eyes and raises his eyebrows. 

“I can still uninvite you,” Tangerine threatens, leaning against the brick wall. 

“No you can’t,” you say. “Not on my watch.” Tangerine looks at you, unimpressed, but you can see past the false mask of disinterest. 

“At least let me tell you how fucking beautiful you look,” he asks, a suggestive smile on his face. “Because, after all this time, you still manage to look like an angel.”

“And that’s my cue to fuck off,” Lemon snips. “You two are fucking gross.” Just like he always does, Lemon is able to make you grin.

“So I can’t even compliment my wife? What would Thomas say, Lemon?” Tangerine asks, tilting his head to the side. “There’s no episode on separated assassin couples who left in the middle of the night where they get remarried and their smartass brother gets whacked on the head.” 

“No,” Lemon says shortly. “There’s no episode like that, which you would know if you ever watched with me.” 

“Yeah, Daddy,” Jovie says with her hands on her hips. “You never watch Thomas with us.” 

“That’s because it’s a kids show, love,” Tangerine responds apologetically, sweeping her up into his arms. “And since when did you start taking Uncle Lemon’s side against me? He’s turned both of my girls against me.” Jovie’s shrieks of laughter fill the air as Tangerine flips her upside down and tickles her, while you and Lemon watch fondly from the sidelines. 

“I think it’s time to get this over with, then,” Lemon chimes in, “So my favorite niece and I can watch ourselves some Thomas, right Jo?” He’s met with enthusiastic cheers from Jovie, and Tangerine puts her back onto her feet. 

You hand Jovie her basket of flower petals and she takes it gladly in one of her hands, the other faithfully occupied with her teddy bear. 

Jovie tosses flower petals in the air, and they float down around her, white silk landing in her curls that shake with her giggles. Something soft is playing in the background, with a gentle, dreamlike piano melody that you can’t help but close your eyes to for a moment. 

And, for that moment, you take a deep breath, letting memories wash over you. Everything, every choice, every heartbreak, has led you here, with Jovie and Lemon and Tangerine all surrounding you, the only family you really need.

You see flashes of life before you got married when Tangerine brought you dog-eared copies of his favorite books and you faithfully didn’t ask questions when he came home covered in blood. He didn’t ask you either, and it worked out, somehow. 

You see the night he proposed to you, the twinkling stars that slipped behind clouds while he got down on one knee and asked you to be his. How young you had been, how happy, how carefree. 

You see your wedding, the white dress you wore that matched Tangerine’s, and the white flower in the lapel of his jacket. Lemon had been the only other person there, which isn’t so different this time, but you have Jovie with you this time. That had been at the beginning of Tangerine’s newfound wealth at his job, and you had been quick to spend as much as you could justify on a dress. You have absolutely no clue where that dress is today, but you wouldn’t have worn it again today anyway. It carries too many bad memories, too much potential for a bad future.

You see when you first told Tangerine that you were pregnant, the panic took over your life before the pair of you, and Lemon, settled into acceptance and cautious expectance. Yes, you had been sick for almost three months straight and then you had been too big to do anything else, but you had also been happy and so excited to meet your baby girl. The day Jovie was born, Tangerine had been on a job, which he and Lemon immediately left to come be with you. 

All these things, that make up the puzzle of your past, float through your mind before you settle back in the moment. 

Jovie’s petals hit the ground and she looks towards you, her smile wide and her eyes brimming with excitement. When you reach your hand out, Jovie comes to you. 

There’s no priest or any other religious figure; both of you agreed it was an unnecessary addition. You’re already married, this is just to recement that fact, for yourselves and for Jovie.

More than anything else, it’s a fresh start. A new chapter. You’re moving forward, not forgetting to look back at what got you here in the first place. 

So, without much ado, you walk towards your husband as he stands up straighter and instinctively reaches out for you. 

“Love, at this point there’s not much I think I could say that you don’t already know, but I think it’s probably worth trying. I know there’s not a lot I can say to make this any more special than it was the first time, other than the fact that I started looking at you one time on a crowded London train and I haven’t stopped looking at you since then. You are truly my sun, my moon, my stars, and every comfort that I never had before you. Not only have you given me your love, but you’ve also given me a daughter who I would die for, I would kill for, I would live for. There’s- there’s nothing I can say to thank you enough for that and everything else you do for me other than I love you so much, so fucking much, excuse my language, Jovie.” Somehow, Jovie can sense the importance of the moment, because she nods and looks at you for your words. You take his hand in yours and hold them in front of you.

“Tan, you and Lemon, for a long time, were the only people I trusted enough to feel anything around,” you start, emotion clogging your voice. “ Then, I realized how much you actually meant to me, as more than a friend, and I had so many chances to screw everything up, a few of which I took. I’ve fumbled my way through raising Jovie, and I’ve fumbled my way through us. But you’ve also given me every chance to come back into your arms, my home more than anything else, and I love that about you. I love that you swear too much and steal things, and you pick Jovie up from school when I’m not up to it and put her to bed every night. You are the father of my child and the only person I would ever want to raise my family with.” Tangerine cups your cheek in his hand and wipes away your tears with his thumb, looking at you like you’re something precious, like you don’t have a bloodstained past. 

“Jovie-love, could you come here?” The two of you decided, instead of exchanging rings for each other, it would be more worth your time to get something for Joive. After all, you already have a wedding ring from him, and it still fits you just fine. It's from a simpler time, an easier time, a time without Jovie, but a time when you were just as in love with him as you are now. Tangerine has his too, and you don't know if he ever stopped wearing it. You usually had yours with you, even when you weren't with him, whether it was around a chain on your neck or in your back pocket.

Tangerine asks softly. “We have something for you.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a golden necklace, the same shape as his with the same type of jewel from your wedding band. How he managed it, you don’t know, but it doesn’t matter, not when Jovie’s face lights up at the sight of it. 

“This is a very special present, baby,” you explain to her, crouching beside Tan to be at her level. “You’re going to have to take good care of it, but Daddy and I think you’re old enough.” 

“Would you look at that, Jo,” Lemon says lightly. “That’s one good-looking necklace, isn’t it? Do you think you could get one for me?”

Jovie smiles and shakes her head before putting the necklace on with Tangerine’s help. It’s too big, but she’ll grow into it. If she’s anything like her father, she’ll never take it off. 

And you kind of hope she’s everything like her father.

#bullet proof universe #bullet train tangerine #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine fanfic #tangerine x y/n #tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train #tangerine fic #tangerine x you #bullet train x you #bullet train #bullet train x y/n #bullet train fic #bullet train x reader #bullet train fanfic #bullet train fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson fic #aaron taylor johnson x you #aaron taylor johnson fanfiction

[mviswidow]

5 times Natasha defended you and 1 time you defended her

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: cursing, R gets shot at, blood

Prompt: i love the trope of “The 5 times Natasha ____, and the 1 time Y/N _____” so maybe one about the times nat defended/protected you (could be like someone spoke ill of reader) and the one time you did?

“She’s insane for putting her on the team! Y/l/n is a horrible agent, she barely even -“

“She barely even what?” Nat interrupted, leaned against the wall in the entrance of the kitchen, with an eyebrow quirked up and her arms crossed.

“Agent Romanoff, we were just-“ The agent who had spoken originally started to come up with some bullshit response, but was once again interrupted by Natasha.

“Questioning my judgement? Shitting on the only agent from your class to become an Avenger?” She challenged, and his friends were avoiding her gaze like the plague. 

The agent shook his head, “No ma’am, I’m sorry, won’t happen again.”

“It better not. You’re all on cleaning duty for the next month.”

—

“You can’t make excuses for her, Natasha,” Tony yelled. “She isn’t a child, she’s a full grown adult. This was her fault.”

Natasha scoffed and rolled her eyes, “I’m not making excuses for anyone, Tony. She’s new, what the hell do you want from her? All of us have made mistakes before, Wanda did when she was new to the team,” She said, gesturing to the witch. “So have you and I, so what’s your problem?”

You shifted uncomfortably when Tony glared at you, “He’s right, Natasha. I won't let it happen again, guys. I’m sorry.”

You started to leave but Nat grabbed your arm and pulled you back to stand beside her, “Stay, we aren’t done yet.”

—

Two shots into the bullet proof vest you were wearing sent you backwards and to the floor. When you landed on the ground, the air in your lungs was knocked out of you, leaving you winded, “Fuck.”

“Y/n!” Nat shouted at you to get your attention and slid a gun she was keeping in her tactical belt your way on the floor so you could shoot at the HYDRA agent coming your way.

—

Going on undercover missions with Natasha was probably one of your favorite type of missions. You really enjoyed spending time with her, she was great company, and you always got on well. You also worked really well together, you always watched each other’s back and communicated excellently.

This time, however, you’d been made when you showed your ID to the bartender of the bar you were at. It was way too late into the night and luckily there weren’t a lot of people there, but Natasha had gone to the bathroom while you said you’d get drinks and you were left alone, totally screwed.

When the man recognized his name, he shouted to his friends in another language and a fight had broken out with you in the middle of four men, trying to fend them all off.

You’d managed to take care of one of them, but you were having trouble with the other three. The bartender punched you in the face and you stumbled backwards, giving one of his friends enough time to kick you in the gut. The other laughed as you struggled to stand back upright.

Their premature victory was cut short when Natasha threw a chair down on the ground, breaking it so she could take one of the legs, and made quick work of them. You were able to help her since she was multitasking and taking care of two of the men, you were left with the other, which was an easy feat.

When all four of them were on the floor, Nat put her hands on her hips and huffed, “Christ, I just wanted a damn drink.”

You snickered, “We can still get drinks, Natasha.” She smirked and looked up from them lying on the ground to you and frowned before walking towards you and tilted your face up, “You’re bleeding.”

You cleared your throat when you realized how close she was standing and backed up to walk over to the bar and grab a napkin, “It’s no big deal, doesn’t hurt.”

—

After being thrown into a car by one of the Ultron Sentries at the edge of Sokovia where you’d been helping civilians out of their cars, there was a loud ringing in your ear and you were having a hard time focusing on what you were doing.

You lifted your head up from the now broken windshield to see it approaching, but the impact of hitting the car had made you too dizzy to keep it up.

You were expecting to be shot at or something, but when nothing happened, you groaned loudly and slowly lifted yourself up to see Natasha fighting the sentry with Cap’s shield.

—

You ran through the corridors of the SHIELD base as fast as your feet could carry you. You were going against the crowd, but you were doing your best to push people out of your way. 

Natasha was currently interrogating a prisoner, per Fury’s request, but the base was being evacuated due to a bomb threat. The walls of the interrogation rooms were very thick, so no sound could get in or out, and half of the security functions were down, including alarms and comms, so the only way to get to her was by doing it yourself. 

People were yelling at you, some of your colleagues tried to grab you, but you would be damned if Natasha died because no one had thought to tell her what was happening.

You reached the only interrogation room that was locked and grabbed your keys to unlock it with shaky hands. 

You opened the door to see Natasha standing over some man with a knife pressed to his face and she turned her head to see you and glared, “I’m in the middle of something, you’re not supposed to interr-”

“Shut up, there’s a bomb, let’s go.”

She took her gun and shot the guy in the head before hurrying out the door that you were holding open, and when she saw the look you were giving her, she said, “I was supposed to kill him anyway.”

You rolled your eyes, pushed her forward, and started running. Luckily, her interrogation room wasn’t too far from an exit and would probably take you guys less than a minute to reach.

You looked over your shoulder when you heard a loud crash and turned to see something had fallen through the roof, which you could only assume was the bomb when you heard beeping coming from behind you.

You started to run faster and pulled her hard by the arm, throwing the door open and dragging her out.

The bomb exploded, and since it wasn’t very far away, the explosion caused both of you to go flying forward. You kept hold of her the best you could, but when you hit the ground you started to roll, so you had to let go.

“Y/n?” Nat called.

“I’m fine,” You groaned before coughing into the ground.

You turned onto your back and after a few seconds, saw Natasha’s face above yours. Her warm hand was on your forearm, trying to get you to sit up, “I owe you one.”

You chuckled and shook your head but let her pull you up, “Nah, you’ve saved my ass more times than I can probably count, it’s only fair.”

She bit the inside of her lip and smiled softly, “Do something for me then?”

Your brow furrowed but you nodded, “Sure.”

Her eyes flicked down to your lips before going back up to your eyes, and you saw the look on her face as she inched closer to you, as if she was asking for permission.

You smiled and cupped her cheek with one of your hands before leaning forward and kissing her tenderly, heart fluttering when you heard the soft sounds coming from her as you brought yourself into her lap to kiss her better.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #black widow x reader #black widow #black widow x female reader #marvel #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #marvel oneshot #marvel one shot #mcu #mcu imagines #mcu oneshot #mcu imagine #scarlett johansson #wlw #wlw imagine #wlw imagines #sapphic #sapphic oneshots

[snackhobi]

pairing: jimin x reader / word count: 9.1k / genre: smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: you wouldn’t mind your cute neighbour being such a shameless fuckboy if a) the walls weren’t so thin and b) he didn’t seem intent on adding you as another notch in his bedpost. 

but there’s only so much you can resist park jimin, especially once he gets that peach involved.

warnings: sexually explicit content, Jimin being completely shameless/a lowkey ho, messy peach eating, mentions of masturbation, oral sex (m + f receiving), overstimulation, protected sex, multiple orgasms (f), dirty talk and some cursing, hmm I think that’s it?

a/n: I was so close to calling this ‘jimin and the f*cking peach’ as some terrible homage to ‘james and the giant peach’ 😂🤧 as always I would like to thank @hobi-gif for beta reading this, putting up with me having a meltdown at her, and encouraging me to write smut at work rather than doing my job, ty queen xoxo

--

It’s official. Park Jimin is the neighbour from hell.

He’d tricked you, to start with. With those cherubic features, those doe eyes, and his cute little smile? He looks like an angel. A sweet, innocent angel, one who’d knocked shyly on your door and presented you with a small selection of chocolates when he’d moved into the apartment next to yours. Your heart had gone boom boom at the sight of that cute smile, the slip of teeth, the way his lovely face had scrunched up. 

Nowadays, whenever you see that face, you want to punch it.

Well. Not punch it. Maybe slap it a little. Because Park Jimin is a fiend. 

Your studio apartment is cheap for many reasons. The plumbing is creaky and the heating isn’t exactly great but those are small sacrifices for such low rent—ones you’re willing to make. Creaking doesn’t bother you and throw blankets exist for a reason, right? You get a balcony and a parking spot, which is more than you can say for a lot of other places in this price range, so you’ll take the negatives for these positives.

But you’d give up all the things you love about this cheap flat for some sound proofing.

Because Park Jimin fucks. 

A lot. 

He’d been nothing but lovely for the first few weeks. You’d barely been aware of his existence, minus when you could hear him in the bathroom—your flats are mirrored, rooms sharing walls, so you’d been washing your face when you’d heard his shower start up and then the sound of his dulcet tones drifting through the wall. That had actually been really nice; Jimin can hit some high notes, and it had been a pleasant backdrop as you’d cleansed your face. It had been another bullet point you’d added to the list of things you thought were cute about him (along with his face, his laugh, his smile), and you’d stupidly started to develop a tiny little crush on this boy-next-door, thinking him some soft, kind thing.

But then he’d started to have people over.

You’ve lost count of how many days you’ve had to listen to the moans and gasps that echo through your walls. You can’t escape from it. As a freelance programmer, you’re pretty much always working from home, so it’s not like you can get away from the sounds of pleasure that shudder through Jimin’s flat and into your own.

It’s never consistent, either. There’s not a single hour of the day that’s off limits to Park Jimin. Morning, afternoon, night; the boy is always ready to go, apparently. And judging from the sounds through the walls? He never leaves anyone unsatisfied either.

Which, like, fine. People fuck. You get it. You’re not judging. You just wish it wasn’t so loud. You have to sleep, for God’s sake. But it’s not like you can knock on a new neighbour’s door and be like hey, I appreciate you have an incredibly active sex life, but can you keep it down, please?

So you’d bit your tongue. You’d gritted your teeth to bear it. You’d still smile at Jimin if you ever passed in the hallway, acknowledged him with a small nod, exchanged pleasantries, all the neighbourly stuff that you’d do with anyone. You’d just invested in some good earplugs and thought that was it.

And then Jimin had started doing his morning yoga routine outside. 

You start each day with a cup of tea on your balcony, watering your hydrangeas and enjoying the dawn sun that lifts up over the horizon alongside your plants. It’s a small, singular moment of quiet in an otherwise dull day and you treasure that serenity.

Well. Treasured. Past tense. Because Jimin has invaded this part of your life, too.

The first time Jimin had unrolled his yoga mat on the balcony adjacent to yours, he’d been dressed in a deceptively unassuming outfit—a loose white t-shirt and leggings that hugged every inch of his calves and thighs and shapely ass, which you had pointedly Not Looked At. He’d tilted his head at you with a smug little smile flickering at the edge of his lips, and when he’d greeted you good morning, you’d responded in turn, even if you were still annoyed at how he’d interrupted your afternoon nap the day before with the sound of his headboard smacking into the wall repeatedly. You were still fairly new neighbours and you still felt like you had to be polite, even if he was starting to fray your nerves.

And then he’d started to bend. 

Now, you’ll be the first to admit that you don’t know much about yoga. But you’d swear Jimin was choosing poses that did the utmost to display his flexibility, the flex of his muscles and twist of his limbs, balancing his body on his arms before easing into a pose that had him bent in two, head towards his toes—and with how he had his back to you this meant you got full glimpse of his ass, straining against his leggings, the way his loose shirt slipped up his body to reveal the lines of his stomach and chest, how his face was still twisted into that little smirk even if it was upside down.

Staring at you.

You’d promptly stopped watering your hydrangeas and walked inside your flat, shutting the sliding door behind you.

Jimin is relentless.

He’s pretty and he knows it. All that shy, new-kid-on-the-block innocence he’d had initially is completely gone, and all he does is flirt, flirt, flirt. He winks at you. Stands a little too close whenever you talk. Lets his eyes flicker down to your lips, trail over every inch of you, lashes fluttering when he catches you watching, unashamed and unabashed. He frequently just… hangs around on his balcony. Not topless, no, but he may as well be, his thotty muscle tees doing nothing to hide him from your eyes.

(The worst thing, though, is when you catch him unawares. When he’s tired and clearly not expecting you to be awake, too, his eyes sleepy and his hair ruffled; a little vulnerable, a lot softer than he usually presents himself. Curled up on the small seat on his balcony with a hot drink in his hand, phone in the other, his screen throwing blue-tinted light over the easing lines of his features.

You wish Jimin was like that all the time. But the second he sees you, his eyes flicker, and his brows lift, and his mouth curls, and once again you rue the day you had a fuckboy move in next door to you.)

It’s not that Jimin isn’t hot. It’s not that you wouldn’t fuck him, either. But you have no interest in being some sort of convenient hook-up for him, purely there by circumstance, fate, whatever you want to call it. You dread to think of him sending you haha wyd x texts whenever he feels like having sex and you just happen to be nearby. So you weather all of his obvious come-ons and swerve him something chronic, even if he seems intent on making his attraction to you obvious.

You’ve been managing it for months. But as time goes on, your patience wears thinner and thinner, an atom-thick layer of fortitude the only thing keeping you from grabbing Park Jimin and kissing him and/or killing him. It doesn’t help that you haven’t fucked for a while now, and you’re reminded of this every time you hear another pornstar moan through the wall (the people Jimin brings home seem to like hamming it up for effect), every time you see another mosaic of hickeys laid across the column of Jimin’s gorgeous throat, every time you see the way his yoga outfits do nothing to protect the delicious shape of his body from your eyes.

You dig your fingers into your palms. It’s fine. It’s okay. You can handle Park Jimin and his overt sexual energy, oozing out of him almost every second of every day.

It’s a little harder to handle how he still seems sweet despite his fuckboy nature. How he picks your parcels up for you. How he lets you use his laundry detergent when you run out. How he lets you keep food in his fridge when yours breaks down and you have to wait for a replacement. How he sheds that fuckboy facade whenever it seems like you genuinely need help, how you’ve heard his soft phone calls through the wall, to his friends, his family, sweet and kind and supportive.

Park Jimin is a multi-dimensional being, for sure, and maybe you sometimes wish he was actually genuinely interested in you as a person and not as a lay, so you could peel back those layers to the lovely core at the centre of his being.

But it’s fine. You can handle this stupid yearning and pining. You can handle the knowledge that Park Jimin is a genuine gentleman who just happens to like fucking, is open in his desire for it, and is apparently Very Good at it. It’s difficult, but you can do it.

You can do it.

The date you set up with someone from Tinder ends up being disappointing and lacklustre. You’d escaped before dessert, unable to put up with one more second of this asshole going on and on about stocks, and investments, and trading, or whatever, cursing the day you’d decided to swipe on him. You’re so sick of your luck (or lack thereof) with guys. (At least the food had been nice.)

Of course Jimin sees you schlepping your way back into your apartment, disappointment obvious in the line of your shoulders and lips; it doesn’t take a genius to clock your date outfit, cute as it is, makeup and hair soft. But the night has barely begun and here you are, stepping back into your flat. Alone. 

“Bad date?” Jimin asks, voice gentle, and you just snort.

“Just like the rest of them,” you reply with a small sigh, before shutting your door quietly behind you, missing the look on your neighbour’s face.

Jimin, to his credit, eases off after this. You’re not sure if it’s due to a misplaced sense of pity or something, but even if he still smiles and flirts lightly with you, it’s less… salacious. Still there, still obvious, just a little softer. You hate how this has you feeling grateful towards him, because he’s still got so many fuckboy tendencies that it should outweigh this gentler side of his flirtation, but your traitorous heart still goes gooey every time Jimin smiles at you.

But then. 

But then.

There’s that fucking peach.

You’re just chilling on your balcony, sipping at a glass of lemonade in the warmth of the afternoon when you hear Jimin’s door sliding open. You flick your eyes over at the sound, watching the way Jimin slips out onto his own balcony, how he throws something up in the air and catches it with ease, a flick of the wrist, a curl of the fingers each time he catches it again.

He hasn’t had any fuckbuddies over for a while. A few weeks, almost a month. It’s the longest Jimin’s gone without having sex for as long as he’s started having people over and you’d been sort of concerned. Which, yeah, you know it sounds super weird when you think about it, especially considering how much you complain about Jimin to your friends—help, my fuckboy neighbour hasn’t fucked anyone in nearly a month so I’m worried if his dick has fallen off or something.

(Well, actually, you know his dick is still attached, based off the little gasps and moans he lets out whenever he pleasures himself in lieu of fucking someone else. You’ll take this secret to the grave but those noises that Jimin lets out have been the melody you use to reach your own peaks, although you’re a lot quieter than he is whenever you touch yourself, biting your lip and muffling the wet sounds of your fingers thrusting into your cunt under layers of blankets. You’d never give Jimin the satisfaction of knowing that the mental image of him fucking into his fist and cumming over his stomach and chest is what throws you over your own edge, toe-curling orgasms that shake through your body in time with Jimin’s own.)

Anyway. He looks loose limbed and relaxed when he saunters into view, utterly unsurprised by your presence behind your window box of hydrangeas, giving you his usual, sultry smile. 

He’s started to ramp up his flirtations again. This smirk is one which you’ve learned not to respond to. You just stare levelly back at him, unimpressed as you start to water your flowers, which does nothing to dissuade him. It never does. He clearly revels in the challenge.

Jimin keeps his eyes locked with yours as he lifts his hand to his lips. You catch a glimpse of what he was throwing and catching—a ripe, flush peach, tiny droplets of water shimmering on its fuzz, freshly washed.

And then he starts to eat it.

The peach yields immediately to the press of his teeth. Juice bursts out of its softness, running down his lips, his chin; he makes no moves to wipe it away, the lewd sound of his slurps as he curls his tongue into the fruit, messy and sweet.

It’s shameless. He’s shameless. His gaze is unwavering as he stares at you, his mouth glistening with the peach’s juices, the only sound the wet smack of his lips and tongue as he licks up the honeyed liquid that drips from his skin, curving around the fruit as he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing.

Water’s been trickling from your small can onto the hydrangeas, cascading over the plants; the soil is waterlogged now, but you haven’t noticed, fixated on the way Jimin is looking at you as he wantonly eats out this peach.

Drip drip, goes the watering can.

Drip drip, goes the peach.

By the time there’s nothing more than the pit in his hand, Jimin is a mess. His fingers and mouth and chin shine with peach juice, eyes dark and heavy as he watches the way you drink the sight of him in, the way his tongue slowly drags over his full lips, catching the sweetness that lingers.

The second he puts his tongue to his fingers to get the stickiness on them, that’s it. You watch the way he sucks his fingers into his mouth and promptly put the watering can down and turn on your heel to walk inside, slamming the balcony door shut behind you.

You’re done. You’re only human. You’ve spent months with Jimin parading himself in front of you, seen the way he contorts his body every morning in an unnecessarily complex sun salutation, listened to the way his voice rises when he cums; the peach is the metaphorical cherry on top, and you’re just. Over. It. 

You hammer your palms against your neighbour's door, rap-rap-rapping on the wood, your blood rising and your heart thudding in your chest, every part of you tense, wound up, pent up. The door swings open to reveal Jimin, his chin still slick with sweet peach, lips curling up in a self-satisfied smile when he sees you.

“Park Jimin.” Your voice shakes and you hate yourself for it, hate the way Jimin’s eyes glitter at the sound, the little hitch in your breath. “You are a fucking menace, you know that?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says. He leans against the doorframe, effortlessly gorgeous, hip cocked, head tilted. He lifts his hand, and there’s a heavy moment of tension as you watch him slowly swipe a thumb over the last remnant of juice on his chin, before his tongue lolls out of his mouth and he licks the final taste of peach from his fingers.

When you grab hold of his collar his expression shifts from something coy into something far more self satisfied, months of his brazen come-ons finally culminating in this—you, shoving him backwards into his apartment, kicking the door shut behind you.

“I swear,” you say. “I swear to God—”

“You swear? I can think of better things you could be doing with your mouth,” Jimin says, and then laughs when you scowl at him. “Damn, you’re so hot when you’re mad.”

“You are infuriating,” you bite out, and Jimin just laughs again, his whole body shaking, every part of him still loose and relaxed even as you continue to tighten your grip on his clothing, feeling every motion of his body under your hands. You hate how pretty he is, even now, utterly unafraid of your frustration—the brightness of his eyes and his smile, that undercurrent to it all, the way his hands slide so smoothly around your waist, your hips, sliding down to grope at your ass.

“I know,” he agrees, still giggling, and then he kisses you.

Jimin dives straight in, no holds barred, and you immediately melt into putty under his touch. He lets out a hum of satisfaction into your mouth as your hands go lax and slide down his chest. You can still taste the peach on his lips, his tongue, licking into his mouth.

You’ve thought about this mouth more times than you’d like to admit: the full swell of his lips, the little curve of his cupid’s bow, how it’d feel pressed against your own, and honestly? It’s so much better than you’d let yourself imagine it to be.

He nips at your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue, and you bite off a gasp when he pulls you forward, grinding against you. You shudder. Jimin’s mouth is a pleased curve against your own before he pulls away, murmuring in your ear in a voice that’s equal parts sultry and sweet.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, kissing the sensitive skin of your jaw just under your earlobe, making you shiver. “Just relax. You’re always so tense.”

“Maybe that’s because my neighbour keeps me up all night,” you say, but your voice is weak, no strength behind your words, breath stolen out of you at the way Jimin starts to trail his lips down your neck, across your throat. “I find that constantly getting my sleep interrupted—oh, oh—”

Jimin sucks at the hollow of your neck, the delicate skin there so sensitive to his touch, the warmth of his lips magnified, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. Your hands have slid into his hair and you unintentionally tighten your grasp, fingers tugging at his dark locks, and Jimin bares his teeth against your skin.

It’s maybe a little embarrassing how wet you are just from a little making out. But after months of Jimin teasing you and putting you on edge, coupled with how long it’s been since you've had sex? You’re allowed to be a little desperate. All the small frustrations you were about to voice die on your tongue, slipping away from you as Jimin starts to walk you backwards with a confidence that shows just how often he’s done this—leading people to his bed, never taking his hands off you.

By the time Jimin eases you to lie down, you feel breathless. He hovers above you with that satisfied smile flickering at the edge of his lips, taking in the sight of you, finally underneath him—lips kiss swollen, exquisite, all the sharp words on your tongue softened and gone, goosebumps trailing down your skin. You tug at his collar, which catches him off guard; he sways forward and almost hits his face against yours, but before he can spend too long looking smug at your desperation you capture his lips again. You melt into the mattress, hooking a foot over his calf and revelling in the weight of him between your legs, your hips flush, and how hard he’s getting through those stupidly tight leggings of his.

When he grinds against you, the outline of his cock pressed up against your cunt, an embarrassing whine leaves your lips and trembles against Jimin’s own. Jimin goes still before pulling away from the open-mouthed kiss and when you see the expression on his face you slap a hand over your mouth, burning with shame.

“Oh.” He sounds delighted. “You’re noisy, huh?”

“Shut up,” you say, though your words are muffled against your palm. He grinds down again, a slow and deep roll of his hips that lets you feel how hard he is, and a noise shudders out the back of your throat, audible around your hand.

“It’s hot.” There’s that little smirk on Jimin’s lovely lips, every inch of him dripping self confidence. He knows how you’re entirely at his mercy, in spite of your words; your voice is weak. “You’re normally so quiet.”

“Some of us try to be considerate and think about our neighbours.”

Jimin just smiles, pulling your hand away from your mouth before gently kissing your palm, a motion that’s surprisingly tender and makes you pause. 

“Trust me.” His voice is low. “I do think about my neighbour.”

Your breath hitches when he slides his free hand under your shirt, trailing his fingers over the softness of your stomach. He pulls the fabric up, letting his gaze rove over the bared skin. The way Jimin looks at you makes you feel like you’re the only woman in the world, like he’s never seen anyone prettier.

You wonder if he looks at his other fuckbuddies like this.

The thought slides away from you as Jimin dips his head and starts to kiss your throat again. You tilt your head back as his lips trail across the soft skin, his hands coming to rest under your breasts, contained as they are by your bra; once he coaxes you to sit up, it only takes him a few moments to strip your upper body, kneeling between your spread legs as he starts to trail his hands over the parts of you that are now bared to him.

“Pretty,” he says. You’d roll your eyes if he didn’t sound so reverent, and also if you weren’t distracted by the way he flicks his thumbs over your hardening nipples, your core clenching as he does, biting your lip to stop yourself from making a sound. A frown flits across Jimin’s face and he lifts one of those thumbs away from your breast, dragging your lip away from your teeth, letting his grasp linger so your lips are parted. “Don’t do that. I've been waiting for months to hear you properly.”

Before you can reply, he kisses you again, licking into your mouth and swallowing down the noise you make when he drags his hand between the valley of your breasts, down your stomach and settling between your legs, running his fingers over your cunt, the feeling dulled by layers of fabric even though he presses with intent. Your hips jolt at the sensation, and Jimin repeats the motion, dragging the fabric across your flushed lips.

“Jimin.” Your voice is a gasp against his mouth, and you can’t keep the pleading out of your tone, desperation bleeding into every letter of your words. “Please.”

He just hums, sounding pleased, and a breath of surprise escapes you as he pushes you back against the pillows. He wastes no time in getting to his prize, drawing a scattered constellation of kisses that trail across your chest, your nipples, your stomach, the line of your hip bones as you lift up so he can pull your shorts and underwear off. You’re entirely naked underneath him, bare and wet, cunt flushed and shining, and Jimin groans at the sight.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, fingers digging into your thighs as he pulls your legs wider. Your cheeks burn as Jimin stares at your pussy, but you can’t help but feel a pulse of self-satisfaction at the visible twitch of his cock in his stupid yoga leggings. “You’re so wet.”

You should probably feel embarrassed, but by now you’ve thrown all your previous inhibition to the winds. You’ve ended up somewhere you’d privately sworn you were never going to—in Park Jimin’s bed, leaned up against his pillows, laid out for him to touch and take and have, every inch of you desperate for it. There’s nothing in your brain or body but arousal and need. So instead of letting out a snip of a remark you just cant your hips towards him, another pleading sound slipping from your lips.

He gives you what you want. He dips his head and trails his lips and tongue down, down, down, wet and hot, until they press against your cunt. He looks at you with the same hooded eyes as earlier, motions of his mouth an echo of his peach eating, sloppy and messy; he’s unabashed in the way he slides his mouth over you, lips slick and tongue hot, sliding over every sensitive inch—sucking your clit, licking your folds, burying his face between your legs and drinking up every sweet drip of your juices. 

You can’t help but make noise. Small gasps that slide into moans of pleasure, hitches in your breath that make your chest jump and your breasts shake; Jimin lets out noises too, muffled against your cunt, sounds that let you know he’s enjoying himself almost as much as you. It’s honestly pretty fucking hot, the way your own pleasure seems to turn him on, how he chases that feeling, eyes blown as he takes in every one of your reactions, repeating the motions that are affecting you the most.

The sight of him between your legs has you tensing. He continues to stare up at you, the curve of your stomach when you bow towards him, the fall of your breasts, which he slides his hands over, cupping them in his palms, pinching your hardened buds, layering sensation on sensation, never taking his mouth off you.

When he presses one finger inside, and then another, both thrusting firm and deep as he mouths at your clit, you tangle a hand into his hair. He watches the way your hips jump from the sensation of his tongue directly on your clit, and does it again, and again, your voice crescendoing from the explosion of sensation, how it’s too much, before he circles his lips around it and sucks messily. Your brain registering nothing but his lips and tongue against you, the hands that are trailing up and down your sides and still skimming across your breasts.

You’re not even aware of the words that are falling from your lips, oh fuck, yes, Jimin, there, oh, the way your grasp tightens in his dark hair, your hips bucking against his mouth as you can feel your orgasm approaching. The pleasure keeps building, flames fanning brighter and brighter as Jimin buries his mouth even further in between your legs, fingers speeding up as you gasp.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you chant, voice getting higher. “I’m gonna cum, I’m cumming, oh—”

Your words slide into a moan as your back arches and your thighs tighten around Jimin’s head and you cum. Jimin continues to finger fuck you through it, your cunt pulsating around him as he keeps licking and sucking at your clit, his gaze fixed on your face as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth falls open and every line of your body sings of the pleasure that Jimin has given to you. Even when your legs and hips start to jolt from oversensitivity and you cry out at each ripple of his tongue against you, he’s relentless, almost cruel in how he watches you writhe from a mixture of pain and overextended pleasure.

You're sobbing by the time Jimin pulls his mouth away from your cunt, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes, body shaking as you try to suck in air. He thrusts his fingers into you one more time, slow and deep, watching the way you turn your head into the pillow and muffle a gasp against it. 

“I knew you'd look and sound gorgeous when you cum,” he says, and though you feel boneless from your post-orgasm high, you can’t help a little huff escaping your lips. Jimin clearly catches the sound, quiet as it is against the linen of his pillowcase, and takes your chin in his hand to turn his face towards you. His fingers are slick with your arousal, wet against your skin.

“You sound like you’re reading off the script to a porno,” you murmur.

One of his eyebrows arches. “Oh? You don’t think I’m just speaking my mind?” Those fingers move away from your chin and trace over the swell of your bottom lip; you let your mouth fall open and swallow them down, licking the taste of yourself off Jimin’s skin. “You don’t think that I’ve been thinking about how pretty you’d look as I fucked into you, begging for me to let you cum again and again?”

Your tongue stutters against his fingers and your core clenches at his words, the dark undercurrent underneath them, and Jimin’s expression shifts as he notices.

“You really have no idea, do you?” He runs his fingertips over your tastebuds, saliva starting to pool in your mouth, the slide so wet and messy. “Who do you think I picture whenever I touch myself? Who do you think I was wishing was in my bed every time I took someone else home?”

You nip at his fingers, running the edge of your teeth along his knuckles from equal parts surprise and disbelief at his words. You find it impossible to believe that he really means that, but then you realise—recently, on the few occasions you’d bumped into Jimin in the hall when he’d had one of his lays trailing behind him, for as different and unique each of them was, each one of them had shared some sort of trait with you. Hair colour, eyes, the set of their lips, the shape of their face; once, you’d heard a girl giggling through the wall before it had trailed off into a moan, and you’d done a literal double take at how much she’d sounded like you. Similar, but not exactly the same, a slightly off-tone echo of the sound that spills from your own lips whenever you laugh.

And the emptiness in his bed had only started after the night that he’d seen the way you’d trailed into your apartment with discontent heavy around your shoulders, disappointed at that awful Tinder date.

Oh, fuck.

“You’re shameless,” you say, words a little garbled around Jimin’s fingers, but you know he understands.

“No, I’m not,” he replies, a small smirk curling up the corner of his lips. It should be illegal: the way he has such soft features that can turn so quickly into something sharper and entirely sensual, eyes hooded, lips flushed, the column of his throat so lovely and graceful as he tilts his head to one side. “I just know what I want and don’t try to hide it. What’s shameless about that? I know you want me too, but you always deny yourself the things you want. Don’t you?”

You hate that you’ve been so transparent in your attraction to him. Because the truth of the matter is that for as much as Jimin frustrates you with his entire existence, you do want him. After all—you wouldn’t be naked underneath him, still trembling from the aftershocks of a deep orgasm, if you didn’t.

“You’re not always as quiet as you think, you know,” he adds, pulling his fingers out of your mouth and enjoying the way your eyes widen at his words. You thought he couldn’t hear you through the wall, but it seems like you were wrong.

Before you can say anything in reply, though, he grinds down. Without your clothes in the way you can feel the drag of his yoga pants against your cunt, how the wetness of your cum and Jimin’s spit soaks into the fabric, his hard cock hot, and you let out a whine. He still has yet to remove any of his clothes and you want to  see them off so he’s finally naked. You’ve seen enough of his bare skin over the months to have a pretty good idea of what that looks like, but you want to see the real thing.

Jimin seems just as eager to shed his clothes, yielding to your grasping hands and carelessly throwing his top aside; you end up straddling his waist and kissing down his chest in an imitation of his motions earlier, letting your fingers trail over the lean muscle from his yoga and dance. When you tongue at one of his nipples and he gasps, you feel euphoric. He’s unfairly beautiful, from the lovely collarbones to the flex of his shoulders and arms and the line of his chest and stomach, delicate and somehow entirely masculine. You still sort of want to slap him, but settle with kissing the hollow of his neck instead, digging your fingers into his ribs as you roll your hips down against him.

His own hips buck up. You can tell that he’s desperate to be inside you, but you want to taste him first. 

When you slide down his body and settle between his legs, you hook your fingers into the tight waistband of those stupid leggings and tug them down. Jimin hisses through his teeth as you let the material settle just under his hips, baring the top of his briefs to you, how his cock strains against them, the patch of wetness at the head, darkening the fabric.

You don’t strip him. Not completely. You just hook your fingers into those dark blue briefs and pull them down just enough to reveal the flushed head of his cock, wet with precum. You let your tongue flick out to catch that salty bitterness, and Jimin bites off a curse at the almost shy licks you start to lave across his slit, circling around the weeping head.

Hearing Jimin’s gasps without the wall in the way is honestly an experience. Before, whenever he had people over, they usually drowned him out, theatrical wails and groans overpowering his far more natural noises, but now there’s nothing to prevent you from hearing the way his breath hitches in his throat or the way he moans. Even the smallest things have him letting slip sounds, a noise escaping him as you coax him to lift his hips so you can finally, finally peel those leggings and briefs off, dragging over the hardness of his cock as you do. You want to take in the sight of him fully naked, give it the proper attention it deserves, but then you feel his cock throb in your hand and you can’t stop yourself from immediately lowering your mouth to it again.

His whole body shudders. You let your jaw fall open as you take him in, tongue curling around him, hands touching every part of him that isn’t in your mouth, making sure there’s no part of  him that isn’t receiving attention. His eyes are wide under the mess of his fringe, hair falling over his forehead as he watches the way you run your lips down the side of his cock before sucking one of his balls into your mouth, circling his length with your hands, a twisting rise and fall in the motion as you drink down the noise of surprised pleasure that drops from his lips.

Jimin’s fingers have been tangled in your hair but he lets you control the flow. The sounds of you swallowing him down into your mouth as you bob your head are obscene, wet and messy, but you can still hear how his voice starts to rise, how his fingers tighten against your scalp, and you know he’s close when he tugs you upwards and drags your lips away from his cock. 

Jimin pulls you towards him and you settle against his chest as you start to kiss again, shivering at the way he rolls his tongue in your mouth. This time when Jimin rolls his hips, there’s nothing between your skin and his, dragging the underside of his cock across your flushed lower lips, the slide between your folds and against your clit making you shiver.

“Condoms?” 

You’re breathless, and Jimin quirks a smile at you.

“Top drawer,” he answers. Of course they would be, in easy reach whenever he needs them. 

You lean forwards to reach for the bedside table and Jimin takes the opportunity to circle a hand around your breast and capture a nipple in his mouth, ignoring the way you bite back a surprised noise, staring up at you with almost innocent eyes as he sucks at your skin in the way he’s worked out that you like best. Your hands are a fumble as you pull a condom out of the pack, ripping the sachet away from the others, a bottle of lube rolling into your grasp. You try to focus on your task and not the sensation of Jimin switching attention to your other breast, cupping the swell of flesh in his hand and drawing his teeth gently across your skin.

“You’re insatiable,” you mutter, and Jimin laughs before he kisses between your breasts. 

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you since we first met,” he says, utterly unrepentant. “I don't want to take my mouth off you.”

“Insatiable,” you repeat, but you’re flustered. Even if you know he’s not lying, and you’re naked and straddling his hips, the taste of his lips and cock now familiar on your tongue, it’s… kind of incredible to think that the gorgeous Park Jimin has been lusting after you for that long. 

Or lusting after you at all, really.

But as you tear the foil of the condom, the look he levels at you is burning with desire, roaming over you, every inch of your nakedness, every movement of your body. His hands rest at your waist, thumbs rubbing over your skin as you hold his cock in one hand and roll the condom down with the other, letting your fingers circle his length, dragging your touch over the heat of him and revelling in the way he twitches. As much as you’ve thought of Jimin as a fuckboy, you know that he wouldn’t lie just to get someone in his bed, so as unbelievable as his words are, every single one of his actions backs up what he’s said: he wants you.

You don't notice how soft his gaze is as you take time to warm the lube in your hands, even though you’re desperate to feel him finally slide home. You've always been so considerate, even when he knows you've been frustrated at him, and that's evident now, in this small thing.

You spread the warmed lube over his covered cock, pumping it in your hand to get him slick and ready, loving the way he hisses though his teeth. He has to stop his hips from bucking up as you line his cockhead up with your entrance, his fingers digging into your sides as you hover in place.

“Come on,” Jimin urges. “Give it to me.”

“Insatiable,” you repeat, one last time, then you bend your knees.

You finally ease yourself down and onto his cock. You both let out moans; Jimin, finally feeling the wet heat of you around him, and you, falling into the sensation of him stretching you open, snug inside you, slowly splitting you open as you take him in, inch by inch, until you’re sitting on his hips and he’s fully buried in your cunt.

It’s been a while since you’ve had someone inside you. You grind downwards, rolling your hips, biting your lip at the sensation. Jimin’s chest expands as he sucks in a sharp breath, and you roll your hips again, a hand bracing on one of his lovely, thick thighs, the other resting just under his stomach as you lean back and arch your spine. You lift your hips, easy and slow, and then fall, Jimin’s cock dragging and pressing against your inner walls, a gasp shuddering out of your lips at the electric feeling.

Again and again, noises of pleasure drip from your mouth as you ride him, head tilting back at the sensations rippling through your body and across your skin, the apartment full of the sounds of your sex—the moans, the wet thrust of Jimin’s cock into your cunt, the praise that falls from his lips, months of feeling pouring from his lips. How pretty you are, how gorgeous, how well you’re taking his cock, how wet and tight you are around him; all the things he’s been thinking about, come to life, his hips snapping into yours as a sharp cry cuts through your lips at the sudden change of pace.

The pleasure’s been steadily building between your legs again, warm and unrushed, but then Jimin flips you without warning, fluid and graceful. Your eyes are wide as you end up on your back, Jimin’s hands braced either side of your head as he looks down at you with those dark, dark eyes of his. He thrusts forwards and your hands fly up to grab at him, your entire body shifting up the mattress at the force of his movements. His eyebrows are drawn together as he starts to drive himself into you, unapologetic in how aggressive he’s being, each thrust pushing the air out of your lungs in harried little gasps that shake the air between you.

The sound of his headboard slamming into the wall, a noise that’s been haunting you each time you’ve been trying to sleep or relax, is one you don’t even register. All you can think about is Jimin, Jimin, Jimin, caught up in the way there’s sweat beading across his forehead, strands of his dark hair sticking to it, the intense look in his eyes, the way his full lips are parted, small ah-ah-ahs falling from his lips in time with his thrusts, your body tightening around him each time he slides home.

You can’t remember the last time you were fucked this good. Jimin reads the language of your body with ease, knowing exactly when to lean back and trail a hand over your hips, circling his thumb over your swollen clit, the slide over that bundle of nerves messy from the mix of cum and lube and spit that’s laid slick across you. Each fluid roll of his hips is perfectly timed with the press of his thumb, your thighs going tense and your pussy clenching around Jimin’s hot cock as you start to reach another peak of pleasure.

“Cum for me, baby.” Jimin sounds breathless. “Let me see how pretty you are when you cum around my cock.”

Normally dirty talk seems so ham-handed and stuttering, but the words fall out of Jimin’s lips  as natural as breathing, thoughtless. Stirring your arousal even further. He’s gripping your hips, pulling you down each time he presses up, and you circle your fingers around his wrist as his other hand is occupied with rubbing at your most sensitive part, tightening your hold as you feel another orgasm approaching.

“Jimin.” Your voice is a keen. “I'm so close, please, there, right there, theretherethere—”

You can't blame Jimin's other partners for being so noisy. The sound you let out is just as loud, maybe even louder, Jimin continuing to snap his hip forwards as you cum hard, a drawn out moan that crescendos as you pulsate around Jimin's cock, still hard inside you. He watches the way you writhe beneath him, tangling his fingers with yours when you reach for him and swallowing the end of your moan in a surprisingly sweet kiss, his lips gentle against yours as he slows to a stop before you become too sensitive.

Your voice is a quiet murmur against his lips. “How have you not cum yet?”

His eyes squeeze into a smile as he laughs, light and bright, the sound so sweet. “I've got stamina for days, darling,” he says, oozing that trademark arrogance you’ve gotten used to.

You clench as hard as you can around him and feel smug when he bites off a shocked curse, his smug facade broken. You can’t help but laugh at his expression, scandalised at it is, though your giggle cuts into a gasp when he pinches one of your nipples and then soothes it with his thumb. He seems amused by the look on your face and then laughs in turn, the two of you dissolving into laughter that’s edged with pleasure, your motions shifting his length inside you.

When the laughter trails off, Jimin stays smiling down at you. You draw your hands over his body, tracing all that smooth skin, and he touches the back of your hands with gentle fingers. There's a beat of silence but it's not an uncomfortable one, the air light after your shared giggles. It's… really nice. It's nice and soft and sweet, just like the expression on Jimin's face, tender, even if he's still buried inside you.

You feel so empty when he slips out, already missing the thickness of his cock when it seems as though he’s about to coax you to roll onto your front. Your hands are still linked with his and you tighten your fingers, making him pause.

“I want to see your face,” you confess quietly. It’s probably too much to ask of him but you feel like if you’re turned away from each other then you’ll feel like nothing more than a fucktoy. Just another warm body in Jimin’s bed. You don’t want that.

Jimin stares at you, surprise written across his features before his expression softens. 

"Okay, baby," he murmurs indulgently. The small pet name sounds so sweet in his mouth. "We can stay like this."

He lets your hands go so that he can reach for a pillow that ends settled under your ass, tilting your hips up towards him. You’re not as flexible as he is—maybe you should start doing yoga too—but Jimin doesn’t push you far, hitching your legs up and draping your calves over his shoulders, leaning towards you so that the back of your thighs are warm against his chest. He's bent forward, face hovering above yours, so much skin-on-skin contact that your entire body feels warmed by him.

When he slides back in, you can feel the change in angle immediately. The head of his cock brushes over your g-spot and you suck in a sharp breath; Jimin notices, of course, aiming to hit it again, and again.

It feels good, of course. Amazing. But as much as you’d be happy for Jimin to make you cum again, you’d rather see him fall apart. 

You dig your nails into his shoulder blades, turning your head so you can press kisses along the line of his jaw, murmuring into his ear.

“Are you going to let me see you cum?” 

Jimin’s hips stutter as your words curl out of your mouth, warm against his skin. You’ve been picturing Park Jimin’s o-face for an endless amount of weeks and you’re ready to finally see the real thing.

“Cum on me,” you say, and then choke in a sob of air as Jimin responds with a sharp snap of his hips. “I want you to cum on me, Jimin, please.”

Your begging is shameless and you know it. Jimin’s face is so close to yours in this position and you can see how blown his pupils are, how his mouth is flushed from your kisses and how he’s been biting at them, his teeth digging into his lip as he starts to get faster, sloppier in his thrusts. It feels so good to know that you’re making him feel like this, that he’s reaching the peak of his pleasure with his body against yours, inside you, above you; he might have had other people in this position in the past, but right now it’s you who’s making Park Jimin come apart. 

You urge him onwards with large, pleading eyes, rocking down on his cock each time he thrusts forward, begging the whole time. Pleading for him to cum, to give it to you, to cover you. Jimin obviously likes you loud and desperate, and you're more than willing to give him what he wants.

He slips out of you, fumbling with the condom and carelessly tossing it aside before he starts to pump his cock, hungry to reach his peak as he fucks into his fist. You let your legs fall open as you watch the way his body tenses, his brows drawn together and little breaths falling out of his mouth, barely audible over the wet slide of his cock in his hand. You run your hands over your body, across the swell of your breasts, down your stomach, dipping between your legs, trying to look as arousing as possible, anything to throw Jimin over the edge.

"I've imagined you cumming for months," you confess, words thoughtlessly falling from your lips. "On me, inside me, in my mouth—"

Park Jimin’s o-face is just as gorgeous as the rest of him.

You love how noisy he is. He paints your stomach with his cum, ropes of white spattering across the soft skin of your stomach and hips as he rides out his orgasm, moaning as he continues to milk his twitching cock. It’s so fucking hot, honestly, as is the expression on his face when you swipe your fingers through his cum and lift it to your lips, mouth filled with salt and warm.

“Fuck.” He’s breathless, panting. “You’re unbelievable.”

You let out a small scoff, but it’s edged with affection. “Says the man who was ready to fuck me six ways to Sunday,” you say. “If anyone’s the unbelievable one here, it’s you.”

“I can last longer, but you’re just so hot,” Jimin says. You respond by curling your fingers at him, beckoning him towards you, and you end up sharing a series of messy kisses. 

You were, honestly, genuinely angry when you'd stepped into his apartment earlier, even if that irritation had been rounded out with arousal and desire. Now, though, you feel thoroughly boneless and content, loose limbed on Jimin's mattress, his lips and tongue moving against your own.

He leans too far forwards and smears his own cooling cum against his stomach. He doesn’t seem bothered, though. You’re the one who has to coax him to clean up, though with the way he looks at your still naked body, you know he would happily launch straight into a second round of fucking so he can add more cum to the canvas of your skin.

He really is insatiable, apparently, when it comes to you.

Even so, you wonder if Jimin’s going to kick you out now that he’s finally had a taste of you. He doesn't. He keeps you close, your body pressed against his side in a way that feels far more intimate than you would have expected.

“Are you hungry?” Jimin breaks the soft silence.

You’ve been trailing nonsensical patterns over his chest but pause when he says this. “Hm?”

“Are you hungry?” Jimin repeats, and there’s a cheeky smile flickering at the edge of his lips. “I have some more peaches in the fridge, if you’d like one.”

“That peach.” Your voice is an embarrassed hiss and your cheeks burn, but Jimin just laughs, boyish and bright as you slap halfheartedly at him. “That was just unfair. Who eats fruit like that?”

“Someone who’s trying to make it obvious that he’s imagining the peach is his neighbour’s pussy instead.” He’s so brazen. “And it clearly worked, didn’t it?”

It had worked. It's annoyingly effective, actually; thinking about the way Jimin had been staring at you as he tongue fucked that peach has arousal shooting through you, even after being so thoroughly fucked by him.

“Yeah, now you’ve had me,” you say. “What do you plan to do next?”

Jimin goes quiet. You wonder if you’ve misstepped, but then he sweeps his hand down the curve of your spine, goosebumps appearing in the wake of his touch.

“I was planning on asking if you wanted to go out for lunch,” he says, his voice so sweet, miles away from the fuckboy persona he usually puts on. This is the softer Park Jimin that you’ve caught glimpses of when he’s unaware, the side of him you wished he’d show more often—revealed to you, now. “Then, if you said yes, I was going to take you out on a date. If that date went well, then I was going to ask if you’d like to go on another one with me. And then another.”

One thing you know about Park Jimin is this: he doesn’t do dates. Each of his lays are one time affairs, no attachments made, no real connection beyond the physical act of sex. Your heart rate picks up.

“Obviously we’d fuck between dates,” he adds, raising his eyebrows at you in a way that’s so exaggerated that it makes you laugh. Of course. Jimin likes to fuck. “Unless you didn’t want to, but there are only so many peaches I can eat, you know?”

“So if I said I didn't want to fuck, and you ran out of peaches, what would you do?” 

Your question seems casual and light but Jimin isn't stupid. He knows what you're really asking. Is he genuinely interested in something more exclusive, or would you just become another notch in his bedpost if he grew tired of waiting for you to spread your legs again?

"I can always buy more peaches."

You stare at him. He's looking at you levelly, a small smile on his face that's a little cocky but mostly warm. And, well, you know he's already gone without other partners for you, even before he'd gotten you in his bed. Park Jimin is serious about you, it seems. He'll wait.

You mouth at his collarbones, tasting the salt of sweat as you kiss and lick at his skin.

"After lunch, we can go back to my apartment, if you want," you whisper against his throat.

Just because Jimin's willing to wait doesn't mean you're going to force him to, especially as you're still as hungry for him as he is for you. 

His hands squeeze your sides as you end up kissing again. You feel soft and ripe and sweet, easing under the touch of Jimin's hands and mouth.

"I still think you're a fucking menace, though," you add, and Jimin laughs so hard the bed shakes, still utterly unrepentant and entirely yours.

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[daeeeweird]

Peaky Blinders: Standing In the No Man’s land

Warning: My grammar sucks and sometimes my spelling so i am sorry in advance. I hope you enjoy and please come back to read more! Have a good day! ALSO NOT PROOF READ!!!

Summary: You go with Ada to stop the small battle between Billy Kimber and the Peaky Blinders. 

You were walking beside your sister wearing nothing but black as the two of you walked down the muddy roads of the city you always lived in. The two of you were on your way to save your idiot brothers from dying in a gun fight with Billy fucking Kimber.

You had warned them. Warned your brother. And yet it went through one ear and out the other. So with your sister you disobeyed your brother’s orders to stay safe and currently went into the direction of danger without a care. 

“We’re related to idiots Ada” You suddenly said breaking the silence just as the two of you stepped in sync together. Your little sister couldn’t help but scoff at your words knowing full well that your words were an understatement. 

Just as she was about to say something the two of you along with your nephew Charles caught sight of the group of men in suits. Instantly you knew it was Billy Kimber’s men. 

Sighing you stepped closer to your sister that even though she was angry she was scared of dying. Of her baby dying. Her husband. and lastly you and your brothers. 

Without saying a word you grasped her hand into your own and gave her a slight squeeze to not only calm her nerves but your own. The closer you got the more your heart increased but you ignored it. Knowing that you needed to put on your act like you always did. This time is no different. 

When you were close enough Ada spoke loud catching the men’s attention. “Move!” She shouted and keeping up you followed up beside her pushing them out the way yourself. Once the two of you came into sight for the Peaky Blinders Freddie, Ada’s husband shouted out a question.

“What are you doing?” You ignored the burning stares from your brothers placing on your hard glare and stone face. Your stance stiff yet tall as you took off your black hat staying quiet for your sister to answer.

Ada didn’t waste any second on answering. “I believe you boys call this no mans land” only for Freddie to call out her name. “Ada!” “Shut up and listen!” Your sister ordered as she stopped pushing the baby. 

Leaving him right in the middle of the muddy road between both group of men. You stood on the other side of the stroller holding on to your hat as you got ready to speak with your sister only for Freddie to once again interrupt. 

“Have you lost your mind?” Before your sister could say anything you snapped. “She said shut up!” Your tone and voice got everyone to flinch and look at you. This time quiet as ever including Freddie who knew not to get on your bad side after many years of knowing you. 

Turning towards Ada you nodded your head for her to continue to which she nodded back in thanks. Looking down towards your nephew you quietly brought your hand to rock the stroller to quiet down his cries just a little and without a thought he did.

“Now, most of you were in France.” Your sister started off as she stared at her Kimber’s men “So you all know what happens next.” She stepped back a little to look at the other side of Kimber’s men. “I’ve got brothers and a husband here, but you’ve all got someone waiting for you”

She then turned to the Peaky blinders side lifting up her hat and taking it off “Now, we’re wearing black in preparation.” Her graze straight at her husband. “I want you to look at me” 

Taking a breath she turned to look at all the men on both sides as You continued to lightly rock Charles cooing at him softly. “I want you all to look at me.” Quietly you looked up at your sister curious on what she was going to say.

The only reason you really came was to protect your sister and nephew since you knew your brothers could handle themselves. Even if they were stupid. 

“We’ll be wearing black for you. Think about them. Think about them right now,” With each words you glanced to each of your brothers, John being the last one you stared at before you payed attention back to your sister. 

“and fight if you want to, but that baby ain’t moving anywhere..” Taking a shaky breath your sister stated her last words as you slowly took a few steps back like Ada had done from the other side of the stroller. “And neither are we” You finished off for her causing her to look over at you in thanks. Relived that you were still on her side. 

Nodding you stood up straighter ready for anything that was about to come. 

After a moment of silence Billy broke it with a nod. “she’s right you know. Why should all we men die? It should just be them who caused it” With his words he grabbed a gun from his pocket and shot. 

Not wasting a second you jumped forward pushing the stroller right towards your sister as you took one of the other bullets that was shot by Billy since he was the only one shooting. 

Muffled you groaned as you held your bleeding shoulder just as you heard another shot but from the other side of you. Meaning it was the peaky blinders that shot. 

Opening your eyes you looked to see Billy Kimber on the ground. Letting out a grunt you moved to lay on your side as you ignored the orders of Thomas and the footsteps of running away men. 

You had your eyes closed when you felt someone touching your cheek and calling your name to bring you out of your small world. Peaking your eyes open you locked eyes with your twin brother. 

Growing annoyed you grabbed on to his arm just as he was picking you up. “After you bandage me up I'm gonna kill you idiots” You growled glaring at your twin since you were now in pain and shot. Giving another scar  to your collection you never liked. 

Arthur ignored you just grunting at your words as he lifted you up to follow after the men that was carrying Thomas to the Garrison to bandage the both of you up. 

And true to your words the moment you were finished being bandaged up you gave hell to your brothers. All ringing them for being stupid and eventually giving them all a good hit on the head. To which they all just complained to Polly about. This being the one of the only times you guys acted like little kids like you used to be. Only this time they were drunk. 

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