#(says the one who’s probably too in the middle of nowhere to be able to use them) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imastrangeone98 · 6 months ago

Text

Homecoming

(A/N: boothill my cyborg my love my life my everything-)

WARNING: fem!reader, SMUT SMUT FRESH OFF THE PLATE MINORS GTFO ILL WHOOP YO BUTTS, probably ooc!boothill but whatever it's fine lmao, his exact birth name isn't known so I didn't put a name for him- if there is one I'll replace it; but I found some X art that called his baby girl "cherry" and I really liked it so I'll use that, and way too much plot as always

"Well, hello there! What'cha lookin' at, sweetie?" You bend down to the little girl's eye level, peeking at where the child's gaze is locked on, then smiling in understanding. "You like those ones? They're moon lilies; they're flowers that are really special!"

"Pe... shal?" the little girl babbles, and you laugh.

"Yes, dear. Special." You pluck one of the flowers, beautiful with light blue petals and golden pollen, and offer it to her. "They mean loyalty, and undying devotion, because they only grow in places they like, and they won't grow anywhere else."

"Loya..." the girl mumbles. You chuckle and pick her up, carefully tucking the flower behind her ear.

"Now, where's your mama? Or your papa? I'm sure they're worried sick about-"

"Cherry! Sweet pea, where ya at?!"

Your ears prick, and the girl giggles and claps at the sound. "Well, I guess we found him."

You maneuver through the crowd until you find the source of the call: a man, tall and lean, with flowing black-and-white hair and piercing gray eyes.

Oh. He's beautiful.

The little girl squeals with delight at the sight of her father, and his head whips towards your direction. He sprints over to you and takes the child in his arms, pressing her close to his chest.

"There ya are, ya little rascal! What'd I tell ya about runnin' off?! Ya had me worried sick!" He kisses her forehead, then looks at you. "Thanks, I would've lost her without ya."

"Of course!" You wave it off, hoping he doesn't notice your hot cheeks. "I will say, she has good taste in flowers! If you'd ever like to buy a bouquet, you should bring her along!"

"Flowers? Oh..." He looks at his daughter, finally noticing the moon lily tucked in her hair. His cheeks flush a bright red. "Aw, man, I'm sorry for the trouble, I can pay for it-"

"Oh, don't worry about it, it's on the house! But I do hope this won't be the last time I see her!" You wave at her, and she giggles.

The man laughs at that. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind." He then stretches out his hand to you. "I'm [???]."

"(Y/N)."

He repeats your name slowly, thoughtfully, then smirks. "Guess I'll be seeing you around, lady."

"I'll be looking forward to it, cowboy."

Your eyes crack open.

Instead of a bustling marketplace, you're in a small shack in the middle of nowhere.

Just a memory.

You rise, body aching with fatigue and heartache, but you force yourself to push it to the side.

There's work to be done. You grab your phone and send a message.

ML: The USB is ready. I'll leave it at the usual place.

BH: ca nt maek it cme her

You stare at the coordinates your contact sent you with a groan.

You don't do face-to-face, too much risk. And the information you collected is time-sensitive; you're not sure if you'll be able to make it to the abandoned planet of Mavorosa in time for it to still be valuable, and your spaceship isn't one meant for such great lengths.

But this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity: Oswaldo Schneider is likely to make an appearance at the upcoming IPC Centennial Gala, and BH has proven themself capable of terminating that sick bastard.

You know you're not strong enough to do it yourself, but BH is. And anyone capable of taking down the son of a bitch who destroyed your home, your planet, your lover, is worthy of your trust.

So you bite your lip and bear it. You'll work something out.

ML: ok. I'll be there tomorrow @ 18:00, don't be late.

BH: k

You roll your eyes. Never mind.

With a heavy sigh, you carefully take out the picture/ only one you have of him. With your little girl in one arm and the other wrapped around your waist, he stares back at you with a grin. Bright, beautiful, alive.

"Don't worry, darling," you whisper, tracing the lines of his cheek and hair on the photograph. "We're one step closer to our goal. That bastard's a dead man walking now that we got BH on the case. They're good; strong and capable, I know they'll get the job done for us."

You gently press your lips over his image. And for a brief moment, you let yourself pretend that the paper is a good replacement for his callous skin.

"Once everything's done, I'll go over and join you and our girl. We'll be together again, I'm sure."

He smiles eternally at you, and you find yourself smiling back.

"Wish me luck, darling. Help me be strong."

[...]

His little girl adores you.

Each time he comes by the market, the first thing she whines for is to see the flowers. And you always indulge her, lifting her in your arms so you can show her all the pretty little blooms you have in your small cart. You give names to each one, tell her what they mean as though she understands you.

And you laugh. And he finds himself thinking that his little girl is a good judge of character, because he's starting to adore you too.

And it's becoming obvious, since Nick and Gray give him the occasional nab and jab, wondering out loud when they're going to see him get married and give them another grandchild. His siblings too, always cackling and yapping about how he might be the first to hang up his boots and settle down.

He rolls his eyes, but he's not too displeased by the idea. You're soft and sweet, with a kick of spice to match- the thought of settling down with you and Cherry on the farm is surprisingly sweet.

So he leaves Cherry to her loving grandparents and invites you out on a moonlit stroll through the hillside meadow, the one with the perfect view of the blooming moon lilies and the spring lake that reflects the starry night sky.

"I've never been here before," you gasp in awe, eyes aglow as you absorb the scenery. "It's beautiful."

"Yeah," he murmurs, gaze fixated on you and the moonlight in your eyes. "You are."

You turn your head, and your eyes meet. "Huh? Did you say something?"

"N- nothin'!" He faces the lake, and hopes you don't notice his red cheeks. "Said nothin'."

You laugh, and god, he melts at the sound. Then you rub the back of your head, and turn away, blushing. "I... I think you're very beautiful too."

His brain short-circuits. "Pretty... you think I'm..." Then he gasps dramatically. "So you did hear that! You sneaky mouse!"

He playfully tackles you, and you both laugh and chortle as you wrestle one another to the ground. But then he opens his eyes and finds himself on top of you, hands intertwined, faces so close he can feel your breath, smell your moon lily scent.

The moonlight bathes you in silver, and god, he wants to kiss you. He wants to kiss you senseless, run his callous hands on your soft skin, wrap your plush thighs around his hips and-

"Can I...?" he whispers, weak and wanting. "Just... just a taste, I swear..."

You stare up at him, eyes so big and wide that he swears the moon itself disappeared to light up your gaze, that he doesn't notice you untangling your hands from his until you wrap your arms around his neck.

"Just a taste, cowboy?" you tease. "You don't wanna try... anything else?"

You raise your hips and grind on his pelvis, and he moans and kisses you, hard.

Eager hands dart across skin, tearing off clothes. He runs his hands over your plush tummy, hooks your thighs around his hips and moans when he finally enters you.

He'll never forget this moment. Even if he were to die and be reborn, he'll never forget you. Your pleasured moans as he slides himself inside your tight heat, your teary smile as you open your arms to let him press his chest against yours, your starry eyes so full of love and desire that mirror his own.

You make love for hours, the stars and moon lilies your only witnesses.

"-hill. Boothill."

His eyes crack open.

Instead of a blooming moon lily meadow, he's in the underground repair shop.

Just a memory.

He rises with a groan, mechanical joints creaking from the lack of use. "Done already? I was havin' quite the nice dream."

The mechanic rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I can tell. Anyway, speed upgrades are done; the rest of your body is the same- sensory receptors are good, memory chip still intact, et cetera."

She rambles on and on; he's used to tuning her out at this point. As long as his body is in peak condition, he doesn't need to know what else extra she's stacked on him.

"-and the dick. Make sure to test it out at some point."

He blinks. "What'd ya say?"

She groans. "The dick, Boothill. Make sure to test it."

"What dick are ya talking about? If you're trying to say I'm a piece of shi-"

"I added a dick attachment to your body, dumbass." She points towards his crotch. "I had an extra one that I really need to get rid of, so I'm giving it to you. Use it, rip it up and toss it, I don't care- just get it off my back!"

And with no further explanation, the mechanic practically throws him out the store, slamming the door with extra ferocity. Boothill lies on the ground, blinking a few times in shock, before checking his pants, and lo and behold, there is a silicone dick attachment. Sensory receptors and everything, he hisses when he pokes lightly at it, the wires in his body jittering at the unfamiliar sensation.

Doe eyes and a teary smile flash in the back of his mind.

He suddenly jumps to his feet with a vengeance and slams on the door. "You cheating, deceitful shirt-bag! Take this fudging thing off right now! You hear me, woman?! Take this shirt off right now!"

He's no doubt starting a commotion, a crowd drawing in to witness his rage-induced ranting and raving. But then his phone dings, and he's forced to put a pin in it, taking out the shitty device to hear the alarm: Meeting with ML @ 18:00! Meeting with ML @ 18:00! Be there or be square!

Ah, shit.

He can't miss this meeting, not even to blow a hole right between that shitty mechanic's eyebrows. ML is too valuable to lose, having provided him with incredibly detailed information on Oswaldo Schneider and the IPC time and again. Almost as if they have an agenda against that sick bastard as well.

Well. The enemy of an enemy is a friend, right? He'll take what he can get. And if they end up turning their back, well, he's sure his bullet is faster than their legs.

So he leans to the door, whispers a deadly "I'll be back for you, baby," and dashes to his spaceship to head over to Mavorosa.

And as he's prepping for flight, he looks over at the picture on the dashboard.

It's the only one Boothill has of you. The three of you, together- him holding little Cherry in one arm and your waist in the other, you wrapping your arms around him and your baby girl with your sweet smile and moon lily eyes.

He brushes a metal fingertip over your face.

"Just hang in there, moon lily," he whispers, a clump in his throat. "We're one step closer; ML's got some good intel on the son of a nice lady that destroyed our planet- our home. That destroyed you."

Boothill lost the ability to cry long ago, but the corners of his eyes itch all the same. He gnaws on his lip so hard, drops of blue blood trickle down his chin.

"I swear to you, darlin', I'm gonna get our revenge against that beautiful bench. He'll wish he never set his filthy sights on our home once I'm through with him." He gently picks up the photo and presses his lips to your image. "And then I'll come home. To Cherry, Nick and Gray, my siblings. I'll come home to you. We'll get started on that house we talked about, maybe some runts so Cherry can be a big sister..."

He swallows, then carefully puts the photo back on the dashboard. The lump doesn't disappear, so once the spaceship is cruising through the stars to Mavorosa, he sets it on autopilot and descends into the belly to go to his chest of valuables. He opens it up and delicately takes out the moon lily crown.

The one he was working on for you, a promise of his undying devotion. Before the world exploded in fire and ash. Before the IPC decimated his family, the moon lily meadow... decimated you.

He closes his eyes and raises it to his face. Even preserved, the petals are still soft to the touch, and smell just as lovely.

Just like you.

He won't let your death be in vain. He won't.

The lump in his metal chest morphs into rage.

Boothill opens his eyes.

[...]

If not for the Stellaron, Mavorosa would be a wonderful planet. A once lively city now stands abandoned, its skyscrapers and glass structures being embraced by nature once again.

You stand on the rooftop, mask and voice synthesizer on, fidgeting with the USB, simply observing everything when-

"So this is what you look like. I thought you'd be bigger," a male voice calls behind you.

Your body freezes. That voice... it sounds like...

No. You must be wrong. Maybe you've been so lonely that every male voice just starts to sound like your deceased lover.

"I thought you'd be here earlier," you reply with your warped voice. "Time is precious to you and me both, BH."

"Sorry, had to wrap up some... personal stuff on my end. I'm here now, ain't I?" The oh-so-familiar yet distant voice chuckles. "Well. Business ain't gonna settle itself. Where's the drive?"

"Where's the payment? We both know I don't work free."

He huffs. "Yeah, yeah, I hear ya. Don't worry, I got your cash. Just fork over the drive, no need to make things difficult, not after everything, yeah? Haven't I earned your trust by now?"

"You realize how difficult face-to-face is? It takes a substantial amount of effort to get this intel, not to mention the possibility of being-" You turn around in your exasperation-

And you drop the USB.

Tall and metal. Flowing black-and-white hair. Piercing gray-and-red eyes. Sharp teeth.

"Y'know, I've always wanted to be a gunslinger, just like Nick," [???] cackled, whipping out his revolver and making dramatic poses with it. "Maybe be one of those boothills of legend."

"I'd rather you not," you murmured as you brushed off some dirt off of his shirt. "Those boothills always died on their feet. I'd rather you not die at all."

He softened, and with a smile, he put down his gun and sidled up to you, bringing you in his embrace, warm and strong. You breathed in his comforting scent and sighed happily.

"Don't you worry about that, hun." He kissed your cheek, then square on your mouth. "I ain't goin' nowhere. You can't get rid of me that easy!"

BH. Boothill.

How could you not notice earlier?

Your mouth dries. You can't move a muscle.

It's him. Mechanical, but very much alive.

"Hey, watch the merchandise!" he hisses, pointing at the fallen USB. "I need that, don't you forget it!"

"How are you..." you weakly gasp, then you grab the USB. "Here. Take it. Forget the money."

You slide it over to him, and he stops it with his foot. But his eyes narrow at you.

"Whaddaya mean, 'How are you,' huh?" He walks towards you, slow and leisurely, like a coyote cornering its helpless prey. "You say that like you're shocked I'm still around. What'd ya do, huh? Sell me off to the IPC?"

"No!" you cry, shocked. "I would never-!"

"Why so jittery, partner? What are you hiding?" He smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "How about a show of trust, huh? You take off that cute little mask of yours, I don't shoot you dead, and we keep our little arrangement goin'. Sound fair?"

You turn around, eyes searching for an escape route.

Aeons above, you need to leave. You can't show him your face. You can't remind him of everything he lost, the people he couldn't save. You can't hurt him any more than you already have. You're afraid. You want to hide. You're selfish. You want to tell him. You're in love.

You want to die. You want the ground to swallow you alive. You want to hole away in your shack and wallow in your grief, descend into a spiral of what-ifs: what if you tried harder to find him? What if you searched the whole IPC ship you snuck on trying to resolve things peacefully until you found him? What if you ran out earlier and tried to bring him with you? What if, what if, what if-

"Now that you got some measure of my grit," he whispers in your ear, suddenly standing behind you, "I'm sure you know how this ends, yeah? C'mon now, take it off."

You pant heavily, head dizzy with his close proximity- god, even with the metal, he still smells the same. "I- I can't-"

"Feelin' shy? Alright, I'll do it for you."

"No! Please, no!" You swat at his hands and try to break free of his iron grip, but he grabs you hard and pulls you against his chest.

He cackles, metallic and bitter. "And here I thought I finally had an ally, but no- you're just like the rest of 'em shirt-bags." He whips out his revolver and raises it to your head. "Take. It. Off. Now."

You want to cry. You don't want to hurt him.

Slowly, with trembling hands, you take off your mask...

And his gun falls to the floor.

Doe eyes. Soft cheeks. Scars. Floral scent.

"What made you wanna be a florist?" he asked you once, helping you water the rainbow roses. "They're pretty and all, don't get me wrong. But don't you want somethin' more exciting?"

"On the contrary, I think they're very exciting," you explained. "They all have their unique personality; some need lots of love and care, and others don't mind if you go missing for a week or two. There's flowers that only stay with you for so long, and there are others that will love you for as long as you'll let them."

He grunted. "Sounds like you'd do just fine without me."

"Oh, please." You put down your watering can and embraced him from behind. And just as planned, he melted at your touch. "Moon lilies love the moon, but they need the sun to grow. And that's exactly what you are to me."

"The moon?"

"The sun."

ML. Moon lily.

It's so obvious, how did he not realize it sooner?

He lets you go. You immediately stumble away from him, hands covering your face in shame.

Boothill has no lungs, yet he feels his chest collapse.

"(Y/N)?" he calls to you, weak and desperate. "Moon lily? That's really you, right?" He reaches out, hand shaking. But when he grazes your shoulder, you hunch further into yourself. "I- I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean to scare ya. Please..."

Boothill willingly let go of his humanity. But right here, right now, he wishes he still had his skin.

"Please, darlin'... turn around? Let me see you, please."

You shiver, tears spilling down your cheeks, and slap a hand over your mouth. You can't hurt him, you'll never hurt him. "I can't... I can't see you."

His body wants to collapse. He wants to grab you by your shoulders and kiss you senseless, look at you from head to toe and sing praises to Lan for protecting you and keeping you safe.

But you won't see him. You won't turn around.

"Why?" he whines, like a pleading child. "Why not?"

"Because I'm not the same anymore!" you sob. "I'm not your moon lily anymore! I don't want to remind you of everything you lost! I don't want to hurt you anymore! You don't know the things I've done, the blood I spilled, all to destroy the IPC!" You sink to the floor in despair, echoes of the dead haunting you, swarming your mind. "I can't bear to see you hate me for being alive when everyone else died. I already hate myself so much, hated myself because I couldn't save anyone else! I thought I lost you, but now I realize I didn't search for you at all! I didn't even try to find you, I..."

You cry and sob and scream. You pound the floor with your fists. You pull at your hair, your clothes, your skin, so hard that drops of blood water the cement.

Boothill's eyes itch with tears that will never spill. His chest burns with a profound grief that will never truly be his own.

"You think I don't feel that way about myself?" he finally whispers. Bravely, he takes a step closer to you. "From the moment the bombs fell, I was never the same. I changed too much to be that man you met at the market- hell, I don't even have the body anymore." He sits just behind you, close to touch but not close enough. "The blood I spilled would be enough to fill oceans. But I'm still here. I still remember everything. I still remember you." His hand, feather-light, brushes your arm. You don't pull away. "I thought I lost you. When I went back to the ranch and couldn't find anyone there, I thought you were one of the piles of ashes on the ground." He chokes as he speaks, but he pushes on. "I never hated myself more. I failed to save them; I failed to save you."

You shake your head, but he gently rests his head on your back, right between your shoulder blades. He breathes you in- dust, machine oil, and moon lilies.

You smell so alive.

"How could you think I'd ever hate you," he whimpers, "when there's no one I hate more than myself? No, sweetheart, I could never hate you. I never will. Nothing you do could ever make me hate you. So please, turn around..." He grabs a fistful of your shirt and tugs. "I'm begging you. Let me see your face, please."

Your heart breaks. You couldn't fathom how much he suffered, how lonely he must have felt, the self-loathing that coursed through his wires every time he looked in the mirror.

Just like you.

"Don't hate yourself," you sniffle, rubbing your eyes. "Nothing you do could ever make me hate you either. What happened wasn't your fault; you didn't know what the IPC was going to do until it happened."

He lets out a small huff. "I could easily say the same about you. It wasn't your fault either- neither of us could've known until it was too late."

You exhale shakily. "Do you really mean it? Not hating me?"

Boothill smiles. "Every word."

For a moment, you're afraid. What if he doesn't like what he sees? You know he's not a superficial man, but you're still not the sweet florist he remembers anymore.

You suck in a deep breath. He's not the same man you remember, but he's still your cowboy, your Boothill.

Slowly, you turn around, and...

Oh. His face is just how you remember. His beautiful silky hair, the red targets in his eyes still framed within familiar stormy gray. When you reach out with trembling hands to cup his smooth cheeks, he melts in your touch just how he always did.

And melt he does. He nearly moans at your soft touch, pressing his cheek into your palms to keep your focus on him. He drinks up every detail of your face and commits it to memory- your beautiful moony eyes and the dark circles under them, the faintest hint of a scar curling from the edge of your jawline into your neck, your soft hair that smells of moon lilies.

You're still you, the sweet florist he fell in love with all those years ago. And now you've returned to him, and this time, he'll never let you go.

He sits you on his lap and embraces you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and savoring your scent. You wrap your legs around his waist and make yourself comfortable, admiring his metal body, tracing patterns into the steel.

"I love you," he whispers with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "I never stopped loving you, not for one second."

"I'm sorry I didn't look for you," you confess. "But I kept you in my heart every day. Even when we weren't together, you were always a part of me."

"I'm here now." He pulls away to admire you, his thumb brushing your bottom lip as he gazes at you with what you could only describe as reverence. "I'm right here with you. I'm not leaving you ever again."

Boothill didn't realize how much his world lacked color until he kisses you, but now he swears he can see every color in the spectrum flash before his eyes. You taste just how he remembers, sweet and salty with your tears. When you pull away for air, he dives back in to reclaim your lips, hooking a hand around your neck to keep you in place.

He won't let you slip from his fingers again. And you clearly feel the same way, because you tangle your hands with his hair and tug him closer, pulling him on top of you.

"Please don't be a dream," you cry in his shoulder, and it damn near breaks his heart. "I don't want to wake up if it is."

"Darlin', those dreams are better off in Penacony; I'm right here. Does this," he kisses your cheek, "or this," he squeezes your ass and relishes in your squeal, "or this..." He grinds into you, and you gasp, squeezing his shoulders with a whimper. And fuck, maybe he was a bit too harsh with that mechanic, he should send her flowers or something, because your face contorted in shock and a hint of reawakened pleasure is a drug he will happily become addicted to. He nibbles on your ear and whispers, "Any of that feel like a dream to you?"

"...No." You stare at him, moon lily eyes abloom with hearts and love and fuck, he wants you, he needs you.

And your eyes are reflected in his, because you're so captivated by how the targets in his gaze morph into blood red hearts that drip with love and devotion. You want to give him everything, bring him under your skin and into your heart so you'll never be separated again.

"I love you." You smile and open your arms for him. "Let's never be apart again."

Boothill's brain short-circuits. He can only remember the minutiae of what happens next- tearing off your clothes, your hands running across his metallic chest, his sensors working in overdrive to let him process your touch, your smell, your taste, as he kisses, nibbles and sucks his way across the canvas of your body to reach your core.

But just as he's about to taste your liquid gold, you tug on his hair. He immediately moves up to your face, nuzzling into your neck to comfort you.

"What's wrong, moon lily? I'll be gentle, I promise," he reassures you, but you bite your lip and shake your head.

"I know. But I don't want that right now; I want you to fuck me."

You spread your legs, once again revealing your soaking pussy to his hungry eyes, and fuck, his mouth goes dry at the exquisite feast before him. And his new dick feels the same way, as the electricity in his body jolts it to life, straining against his pants.

He swallows. "Yeah, baby. I want you too, but I gotta prep ya, or it's gonna hurt."

"Don't care!" you whine, and on Lan's Arrow, you're so cute with your pouting and wailing. "I need you, Hillie, I need it, I need it-!"

Ah, fuck. He can't say no to you, and he won't start now.

So he rips off his pants, and after a few quick pumps of his new cock (yeah, he'll send some flowers to the mechanic as a thank-you), he grabs hold on your hips and thrusts forward.

You shriek at the burning sensation, scrambling for grip on his shoulders as he penetrates deeper and deeper. Fuck, it's been so long since you had sex of any kind, and it shows. You moan loudly, shamelessly, so sensitive to the buttons his cock presses perfectly against your walls, that you cum instantly when he bottoms out, hips meeting yours with a soft thud.

"Fuuudge," Boothill groans, each syllable drawn out in pleasure, "you're so tight, sugar~ I can't even move..."

His brain might just melt from the overload of sensations. Your pussy's so tight, so wet, he's damn sure he near ascended to aeonhood. And your face is so adorable when cumming, he makes sure to engrave every part of it into his neurochip and brush the hair out of your eyes, moving his hips in slow, shallow thrusts, guiding you out of the afterglow.

When you finally blink the stars out of your eyes, you see Boothill hovering above you, rubbing your cheek with hearts in his eyes.

"God, you're so fudgin' gorgeous." He grins, sharp teeth glinting in the dim light, and a shiver of excitement runs down your spine. "Think you got another for me?"

You whine, "Still sensi- AH!"

He immediately sets a vigorous pace, hips slamming against yours in a hypnotic rhythm. He fixates on your breasts, and leans over to take a hard nipple in his mouth to suck and lick and nibble. You squeal and pull on his hair. He bites your skin in retaliation.

"Easy, moon lily," he moans, quickly stifling it with a kiss. "Hold on to me."

He grabs under your arms and lifts you onto his lap. His cock sinks impossibly deeper inside you, the tip nudging at your cervix. With a shriek, you bite his neck to try and ease the discomfort, but it only excites him more. With a guttural groan, he thrusts up into your sopping hole, bouncing you up and down with rough hands to set an even rougher pace.

You're still so sensitive; too much, too fast, and his cock fits so snugly inside you that you're already spiraling towards another release. But you don't want to make that journey alone, you want Boothill beside you.

So you grab his face and devour his mouth, pressing your tongue against his to savor his metallic taste. He moans against your lips, hips stuttering in an effort to keep up with you.

"Wanna make you feel good," you pant heavily. You carefully slide up and down on his thick cock, head thrown back as it hits your sweet spot. "Wanna... wanna cum with you!"

"Y- you are, baby," he groans against your neck, each word punctuated with a deep thrust. "You're makin' me feel so- darn- good-"

You're so close, you can see the faintest glimmer of stars again. Or maybe that was the sparks from his body as it overworks to keep his sensors running, so he can keep feeling you, tasting you, fucking you.

"Hillie," you gasp when the stars start to overwhelm you. "Hillie, I-"

"I know, baby, let go, I'm right with ya." He kisses you, over and over, thrusts sloppy as he chases his high, sensors working overdrive, wires sparking to further push him over the edge. "I'm- fudge, fudge, fudge-!"

He chokes, and you both come undone together, chasing that relentless wave of pleasure side by side. Stars collide and burst in showers of gold and silver, and your strength all but fails you, so you collapse in Boothill's arms, rubbing your cheek on his cool chest.

He catches his breath, letting his sensors rest as he basks in that afterglow. His wires are probably fried after such an intense sensory overload, but he can't bring himself to give a damn. Not when you're sitting so pretty in his arms, eyes just barely able to stay open.

You're so cute when you're sleepy, it's hard to not bite your cheek like he used to do. But tonight, he'll be generous and resist the temptation; you need your rest.

He runs a hand through your hair, and he once again finds himself wishing he still had his skin. But he sets that aside, preferring to be lost in your sleepy smile instead.

"Love you, Hillie," you coo drowsily, head nodding off.

"I love you more, moon lily," he whispers back with a kiss to your forehead.

In a moment, he'll bring you on his spaceship and clean you up, then tuck you in the spare bunk next to his charging port. He'll have to look at that USB you painstakingly put together for him sooner or later.

But for now, right here, he's not going anywhere.

His moon lily came back to him.

Boothill has finally returned home.

[Post-Credit]

"What the actual hell is this..." the mechanic sighs as she stares at the large bouquet of blue flowers.

She wonders if she should toss them out before she notices the card.

Thanks for the added bonus, Doc! - BH & ML

Her eyebrows raise. The handwriting's too nice and legible to be that Galaxy Ranger's, so...

She chuckles. "I figured it'd come in handy sooner or later."

She sets the bouquet on her desk and continues on with her work.

--------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: holy shirtballs BOOOTHILL MY LOVE AAAAAAAHSHDHDBSK I LOVE HIM SO MUCH LIKE I NEVER LOVED A CHARACTER BEFORE

...if only he loved me back just the slightest, cuz I lost 50/50 and went hard pity to get him. But I did win his lightcone so I guess it's even...?

#honkai star rail #boothill #boothill x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader

484 notes · View notes

evermorx89 · 16 days ago

Text

thoughts about obx4

⚠️ obx4 spoiler alert!!!!!⚠️

hi guys! this is just my personal opinion, don’t hate me pls 😭, english is not my first language btw so if anything is wrong, i’m sorry

first of all, what the fuck they’re thinking??? killing jj? this is so unserious, i mean, he was probably everyone favorites character, he passed his WHOLE LIFE suffering and that was his end? i can’t believed that, it’s a terrible ended for the character that i’m preferred think that this is a joke for the next season.

and then, that ridiculous plot of jj not being luke’s son, he passed the last 20 years getting abused by a guy who even wasn’t he’s real father, this is so inhuman, so fucked up, and after we find out that he’s a genrett, he gets an worse father, who’s worse than luke, a father who abandoned him, and knew it that he was alive and didn’t even care about it, come on pate’s brothers you all are better than this, or maybe not.

now, sarah is pregnant and i really think is cute, BUT have you all seen the life that they all live??? how they will be able to raise a child in the middle of all this? i don’t understand why making her getting pregnant now? they really can’t wait the final season to do that?

thank god that sarah and rafe are finally making peace, that’s what i’m talking about guys! one of the only good thing that i can found in obx4 was them getting their brother and sister relationship again, i’m so happy about this, when they hug we realize that after all happened what rafe really need was his sister love, he almost crying and she forgive him OMG that kill me, i almost cry with him too, because all he need right now is a family love, after all ward did to him, he just needs their sisters, sarah and wheezie, love, and i will never get tired of saying this! he doesn’t need a relationship now, HE NEEDS FAMILY LOVE BECAUSE WARD WAS A TERRIBLE FATHER FIGURE FOR HIM, SARAH AND WHEEZIE!

and my last thought about season four is about rafe and sofia relationship… i’m really sorry guys, i think that they’re very cute, fiona and drew have an amazing chemistry between them and fiona is an AMAZING actress, but i just felt that this relationship wasn’t a real needed right now? come on, on season 2 rafe as an coke addicted, an abuse brother, and did so bad stuff with the pogues and his own sister, that the real thing that he needed was a therapist, help and a redemption arc with his sisters, sarah and wheezie, because i can’t see a better option of making rafe more human that do this and i just feel that his relationship with sofia is so undeveloped, she’s just appear from nowhere in obx3 and was put in the middle of this, just to make rafe more human? and don’t get me wrong, i love them, i don’t them to break up or something, i just don’t like what they’re doing with them, if they have a development relationship maybe i liked them more? but i just can’t had along with them, when we have a jiara development, and jarah development and a cleopope development, because i know that the pate’s brother can do it better with rafe and sofia, they just don’t know what to do with rafe’s character anymore and then they start making mess like this.

150 notes · View notes

itsthestutterforme · 9 months ago

Text

Copy That (Jack Reacher x ex!wife!reader)

Summary: Much against his preference, he gave you a call and asked for your help. When a hit was hired to take you out, he deeply regrets getting you involved.

Notes: GIF is not mine, this is not a beta’d read, protective Reacher, soft Reacher, reader is black, technically this is a drabble but there will be more drabble with the same characters

—

“Who’s able to hack into a system with this much encryption?” Rocoe asks, linking her arms over her head as she leaned back into her chair.

“Let me see,” Reacher turns the monitor to face him. There’s a black screen with a singular white box that asks for a password.

Obviously it’s more than a password. They probably beefed up their cybersecurity when he noticed someone getting too close to their operation, Reacher thought to himself.

“Finlay, do you have any friends in cybersecurity security that we can trust?” Roscoe asks.

“Negative,” Reacher knew exactly the person for the job. He hadn’t spoken to you in years, and he didn’t want the first time he contacted you to be when he needed something.

But he didn’t have any other choice.

You wanted out of field work two years after your operations team disbanded. In that way, you were opposite of Neagley, your best friend.

You liked being in the comfort of your own office, free to do anything you’d like when waiting for the decryption to crack.

Life with you was domesticated. Life with you was peaceful. A level of peace he wasn’t sure he would feel again, even if he went back to his favorite home town growing up.

“Reacher?” Roscoe asks, touching her forearm to bring him out of his thoughts. “Where’d you go?” “Nowhere, I’m right here. I know someone,” Reacher finally says, pulling out his burner phone.

“Really? You have friends?” Finlay jabs, earning a glare from Reacher. He dialed your number and put the phone on speaker.

You were in the middle of doing a headstand lotus on your yoga mat when you heard your phone vibrate.

It was from an unsaved number. There was two people that would call from unsaved number: Neagley or Reacher.

You answered the phone and moved across your office to close all the blinds. “Y/L/N,” you answer and you were met with silence.

“If this is some ploy to scare me, you really suck at it.” Reacher stared at the phone, his heart pattering wildly in his chest.

You just had that effect on him.

You were about to hang up the phone when you heard a low baritone say your name.

You looked down at the number before bringing the phone back up to your ear. “Reacher? Is everything okay?”

You peeked through the blinds of your office and saw no one suspicious but you can never be too careful.

“I, uh.” Reacher starts, earning confused stares from Finlay and Roscoe. They hadn’t seen him speechless before.

He takes the phone off speaker and goes outside for some privacy. “Y/N, I need your help cracking something. You’re more than welcome to say no-“ “Send it over,” you interrupt.

“I can’t. It’s likely they’ll track the IP address to you and pay you a visit.” “Let them try.” A proud smile makes its way on his face. That’s my girl.

“It’s safer with us. I’ll send you the coordinate incognito.” “Jesus, Reacher. What have you gotten yourself into?”

“It’s something I have to finish,” “How long should I pack for?” His silence told you all you needed to know.

“I’ll be on the next flight out,”

You stepped off the metro with your carry on suitcase by your side and a backpack on.

You downed the rest of your coffee and tossed it in the waste bin before advancing towards the escalator. You scanned the area for Reacher with no avail but Reached saw you.

He didn’t want to call attention to you by calling your name so he watched as you waited for the escalator.

“Wow, she’s.. ” Finlay trails off when Reacher’s gaze left you to stare at him. “Really pretty,” Roscoe finishes. “She’s clearly your girlfriend,” Finlay adds.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” “You’re rather protective of her. You care about her.”“That doesn’t make her my girlfriend,”

“Uh guys, where’d she go?” Roscoe starts. The group looks at the empty space where you were previously standing.

“Fuck,” Reacher rushes down the stairs, Finlay and Roscoe not far behind. I should have never took my eyes off of her, Reacher thought to himself. If she dies, I swear to God.

Meanwhile, you stood over the man who had pushed you a few feet into the metro tunnel.

He had pressed a knife to your throat while his teammate searched your belongings. They expected you to be a quick kill.

You had to say you were a bit insulted that they only sent two men after you. They must not see you as a physical threat. That was their mistake.

He laid at your feet, his eyes widen as he looks up at you. He peers over to his teammate who laid dead on the tracks, his neck split wide open.

You slowly approached him and he attempted to crawl away from you. The blood from his chest wound stains the pavement under near him.

You wasted no time as you pressed your boot down on his trachea. He gripped your ankle, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

Thrusting your foot down, you crushed his trachea and watched as his chest slowly falls to a stop.

You slung your book bag over your shoulder and rolled your carry on back to the metro docking station.

Reacher had his back toward you, he was talking to two people you didn’t recognize.

A younger woman looked over at you, her mouth fell open at the sight of you. You’re sure you had blood splattered across your neck and face.

She mumbles something to Reacher and spun around so fast, you’re surprised he didn’t crack his neck.

In the blink of an eye, he was in front of you. He doesn’t say anything at first. You admired the stubble that was forming on his face.

You were always a sweetheart for facial hair. He held your face, turning your head from side to side in search of wounds. His hand gently trailed down your abdomen.

He continued his silent survey until you said, “Reach, I’m fine. The blood isn’t mine.”

His gaze fell behind you before returning to your face. He raised his brow and you nodded at his silent question. They were dead.

“I should have kept my eyes on you. This is my fault. I’m sorry.” “Hey, you taught me well. I handled myself. Besides, it was only two guys.”

“What did they use?” “Knives,” you said with a smirk. “They didn’t stand a chance,” he says, making your smirk widen. “No, they didn’t.”

“Sorry to interrupt but uh,” Finlay hands you a hanker chief, motioning to your face. “We should go. You’re getting stares.”

“Y/N Y/L/N, pleasure.” You reached down to grab your luggage but Reacher beats you to it.

You didn’t bother arguing with him, you were occupied with getting all of the blood off of your skin while it was still wet.

“So.. are you Reacher’s girlfriend?” Finlay asks as he opened the trunk and Reacher slide your luggage inside.

Roscoe looked at you expectantly, which tells you that she has a crush on him.

You don’t blame her. He’s Jack Reacher after all.

“No, I’m his ex-wife.” You answer, setting your book bag next to your luggage before closing the trunk. Roscoe’s mouth fell once again, along with Finlay’s.

They stared at you as if they were waiting for you to say just kidding. You slide into the back seat and Reacher joined you.

“Close your mouth, Finlay. You’ll catch flies.” He says before closing the door.

“Care to tell me what happened the last time you were at the metro?” You asked when you all piled into the car.

“What do you mean?” Roscoe asks as Finlay pulls off the curb and descends into exit to go onto the freeway.

“The way you were looking for me was frantic. It makes sense why Reach was worried, but not you two. Something else happened at the metro station. Someone was taken out like they tried to take me out. Who was it?” You explain.

Finlay and Roscoe looked shared a look but didn’t say anything.

“There was a woman. Her name was Molly-“ “Molly? As in Molly Gordon?” “You know her?”

“Joe brought her as his plus one to my sister’s baby shower. God, that’s.. how’s Joe holding up?” You asked, your mouth felt dry at the new information.

Reacher looks at you, his features hard as stone. Your heart sank in your chest the longer you stared at him.

You felt compelled to reach for his hand in comfort but you had to remind yourself that he wasn’t big on public affection.

Nor was he big on being vulnerable in front of people so you kept your hands in your lap.

“How long?” You asked after a pause. “It’s been a few days now,” Finlay confirms. “They got too close,” you said with a sigh.

“How many people have died?” “Five so far,” Roscoe answers. “And that’s just the ones we found,” Finlay adds.

“So they’re dropping people like flies and it’s still a state police matter?”

Bringing in the FBI and the CIA will only push these people into the hiding. We need to lure them out and kill them.” Reacher explains and you nodded in agreement.

“Copy that,”

#jack reacher #reacher x reader #jack reacher x reader #alan richardson

463 notes · View notes

the-anonmaton · 6 months ago

Text

Who do you belong to?

Relationships : Sevika x Reader Characters : Sevika, Original Female Character Rating : Explicit Tags : Smut, Fluff and Smut, Strap-Ons, Vibrators. Rough Sex, BDSM, Rope Bondage, Blindfolds, Gags, Dom/sub, Begging, Edgeplay, Orgasm Delay, Sadism, Jealousy, Possessive Sex, Consensual Sex, Safewords, Aftercare, Dom Sevika, Soft Sevika Words : 5,076

Summary:

What about a jealous Sevika punishing you?

**********

Congratulations, you were bound to fuck up eventually.

And now you were getting what you deserved.

Unable to move because of the ropes, to see because of the blindfold, to speak because of your panties, to hear because of the heartbeat in your head. Only able to- No. Forced to feel.

**********

It was innocent, really. She was just a friend you helped out with her store and she offered to buy you a drink to return the favor. But Sevika didn't take it well.

You two were enjoying a well deserved drink at The Last Drop, sitting in your usual booth, when you spotted your friend and went over for a quick chat. Then she bought you a drink, caught you up with her news, stroked your arm and thanked you for your help, hugged you tightly for goodbye, squeezed your hand, gave you a compliment, you laughed and went on your way back to Sevika.

And only then you caught the look on her face. You could feel her burning a hole through you. That wasn't good. You hurried your step towards her until you reached the booth and sat beside her.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

She only looked angrily at you before she averted her gaze to the bar. You followed her eyes to the object that caught her wrath. To your good friend. Oh no.

"I just helped her out at her store, she's the mechanic I told you about. She wanted to thank me." you tried hurriedly to explain.

"Really? And in what capacity she wanted to thank you?" She returned her eyes to look at you and you shivered at their intensity.

"Sevika, please, it's really nothing."

"And she must be really funny, too."

You held your breath, not wanting to say anything about the compliment, lest you provoke her further.

"I think we should go home." She told you, and you saw her face getting closer to yours.

"It's been a while since I reminded you who you belong to." She whispered in your ear.

A loud exhale left your lips at her hushed tone. You knew what you got yourself into. A feeling of excitement rushed through you, but you knew that entailed a sort of excruciating punishment on her part.

**********

Well, you must have messed up more than you thought.

You've never been in the predicament you are in now.

Trembling and nowhere to run to escape her onslaught.

**********

She was silent all the way to your home, and as soon as you crossed the doorway, she turned around to lock the door and gave you just one order.

"Go to the bedroom and strip."

You obeyed and tried to take in a steady breath to calm your nerves as you made your way to your bedroom. As soon as you got naked you stayed put in the spot in the middle of the room with your eyes glued to the door, expectantly looking, heartbeat increasing with each passing second. For a minute you thought that this was your punishment, that she had gone and forgot about you, but that was too easy. Her punishments were more sinister than that. You knew.

You heard her before you saw her, her booted footsteps echoing down the hall and coming your way. And then she went through your bedroom door. Still dressed. Still looking angry. A fairly long rope hanging from her hand, considering the many loops it was forming.

"On the bed." She commanded again.

She followed you as you made your way wordlessly to lay on the bed. You refrained from completely laying down, instead your elbows behind you supported your weight, as she towered over you at the side of the bed, looking between you and the headboard, thinking. You wondered for a moment what could be going on in her mind, but probably you'll find out soon enough, for better of for worse.

Then she got to work.

She secured a piece of the rope around the bedpost behind you, before she opened a palm towards you expectantly and you offered her your hand. She immediately began tying you to the bed, rope going taut. She forewent the silk padding this time. Fuck. She was pretty mad. She repeated the process with your other hand on the other side of the bed. You gave an experimental tug but nothing budged and the feeling of excitement overwhelmed you again.

"Spread 'em."

That was your only warning, before rough hands forced your thighs apart and two fingers glided harshly through your folds, gathering the slick that was undoubtedly there, and a loud gasp left your mouth at the sudden groping.

"She got you this wet from just a hug, huh?" She spat while holding her fingers up for both of you to see them glistening with arousal.

"No, baby, please, it's not..."

"Silence."

She cut you off, as she wiped her fingers on your spread thigh and went to the middle of the room, bent down to pick up something and returned to you. She pushed a cloth to your mouth, forcing you to open up and pretty quickly you understood that it was your discarded panties. You could taste yourself. Maybe your walk home wasn't accompanied by your purest thoughts.

"That would shut you up. I don't need pathetic excuses from you."

She picked another piece of the rope to continue with her work. This time she secured it at the side of the bed and grabbed your leg to wrap the other end of the rope around your knee, and pulled the rope taut until your knee was bend, thigh open and flat on the mattress. For a moment you thought that she would get up to go around for the other leg, but she fished out another piece of rope and this time she secured it around your ankle and to the same side of the bed, to keep it in placed, denying you more freedom. Then she got up to repeat the same process with your other leg. After she finished her task you gave another tug to test the ropes holding your knees and ankles down. Another failed attempt for movement. Fuck. You felt so open and exposed, and your heartbeat was skyrocketing.

You tried to see how much movement you were allowed. Your shoulders and hips were free to twist a bit and your back could arch a little and lift off the mattress. Okay, you could work with that to alleviate a bit of stress off your muscles.

"No, we can't have that."

Her threatening voice cut through the air, but when you turned your head at her direction you caught a smirk at her lips. That made it worse somehow. She picked the rope again and secured two pieces at one side of the bed and tossed them over your torso. Fucking hell. She rounded the bed and pulled the one piece tightly over your lower stomach, below your belly button and she began to secure the other just below your chest, over your ribs, until she stilled herself. She hummed and moved the rope over your chest, over your nipples. You released a muffled gasp at the rough texture over your sensitive dark buds as she pulled the rope a little tighter this time.

"This seems enough... for now."

Damn, her voice. You closed your eyes and exhaled to calm yourself. You were definitely dripping by this time.

A noise caught your attention, and you opened your eyes to inspect, only to find Sevika undressing with no care in the world, her side to you, standing in the middle of the room. She made her way to your dresser and opened the first drawer. Fuck, it was her strap drawer. She pulled out her harness and a black rippled dildo. You don't think she used it on you yet. It just appeared one day in the drawer. Curiosity got the better of you and tried to muffle a question.

"What was that?"

"Ah this?"

"You'll see."

"Or..."

"I don't think you deserved to look at me tonight."

She opened the second drawer, picked a blindfold and walked over to you, with the harness strapped around her and the black dildo in her other hand. A naked goddess before you, and you could only look at her, captivated. Until she put the blindfold over your eyes. You tried a muffled protest and a shake of your head but that only earned you a hard smack on the inside of your spread thigh. You shook at the pain and your nipples burned as the rope slightly moved over them. But that was enough to add to your muffled squeal.

"You don't get to make demands after the shit you pulled at the bar."

You tried to still yourself, lest to get overstimulated by the rope on your chest. A few seconds passed before you felt the mattress shift and a heavy weight settling between your legs. Your spread, open legs, between your exposed, wet, throbbing pussy. You felt metal and flesh hands pushing down on your thighs and stroking them, checking the ropes, gripping them hard, and then a warm finger, roughly tracing between your folds, spreading them. The warm sensation glided down towards your entrance circling and collecting the moisture that had gathered there, before gliding upwards all the way to your clit and pushing down. Hard. She kept the pressure there and your legs quivered, tied in placed, to no end.

"Look at you. The bitch got you wet enough for my cock."

No. It's you. Only you. I'm only wet for you.

"But, I don't think I'll give it to you."

Please, I need only you.

"But, maybe I can get you wetter. Make you forget all about her. That'll teach you letting others touch you."

Only you...

Suddenly the pressure disappeared, only to return at your entrance, as two thick warm fingers forced their way inside you. You tried to move your hips at the intrusion, but the rope held you in place and metal fingers dug in your hip. You shuddered at the pain and the pleasure that consumed you as she curled her fingers without giving you any time to recover and you muffled a scream.

"You're so tight. Do you think her dick is enough for you? Do you think she can fill you like I do?"

Just as they came, her fingers left, the pressure disappearing once again and you exhaled in relief and disappointment. And then you felt what could only be her strap at your entrance, just resting there, with you unable to move. Move towards it or away from it, you weren't sure. Another shift of the mattress. This time on either side of your chest and you felt a presence above you, before soft breasts, perked nipples and hardened stomach lit a fire where they touched your skin, then a breath tickling your cheek, a soft kiss and a whispered voice much different from before.

"Snap for me, beautiful."

The fog of your brain cleared, and your attention went to your hands, fingers clenched in tight fists unbeknownst to you. You relaxed your hands, let them hung as you took in a breath, steadying yourself, and felt another calm breath on your cheek, Sevika patiently waiting for you.

One snap. All good.

As soon as you snapped your fingers, you heard an amused hum above you and felt pressure between your legs as the strap began sliding inside you. Fuck. She kept going. Fuck, fuck! Was she going to slide all the way in one thrust? Fuck, apparently she was. And you couldn't do anything but just stay there and take it. You instinctively arched your back, trying to push up at her, but the rope rubbed on your nipples, adding to the forced stimulation she was providing.

You were bombarded from everywhere. The stretch of your pussy, the friction on your breasts, the presence above you, Sevika's breath hitting your face, her skin burning yours. You trembled in place, hands back in tight fists, eyes squeezed shut behind the blindfold, teeth biting hard on the panties in your mouth, a reverberate from your throat.

"Seems to me that you know that you deserve this."

"That you deserve your punishment."

"And maybe, if you learn your lesson, you get to come."

The sadist. Always had something to say and torment you while bottomed out inside your pussy.

She adjusted above you. You could no longer feel her breath on your face or her body against yours, but she didn't move. Her hands still on either side of you. She stayed over you, probably watching you lay there helpless, fueling her power trip with smirk on her face. The next moment the mattress shifted, and you felt a hand splayed on your stomach and moving up towards your breasts. The hand made its way to the rope on your chest and pulled it down, inevitably rubbing it on your nipples, and let it rest just under your breasts, over your ribs, where she first intended to put it. A relieved breath left your nose, only to be replaced by a sense of dread of what was her next step, which in turn made your walls flutter and clench around her strap.

You were right to be afraid, as sharp teeth wrapped around your overstimulated nipple and bit down, making you whimper. The changed position of the rope allowed you to move your upper torso, so you tried to pull away, but her teeth only clamped down harder, forcing you to still your movements, since that was the only way for the stimulation to pass. She only ever left you with impasses. You should know better before you tried and pulled away. So you forced yourself to calm down and accept the force of her bite.

"Well at least you know how to behave." She teased as she released your nipple and soothed it with a stroke of her tongue.

She moved to deliver a bite to your other breast and you being a good girl lay there and took it, letting her have her fill however she liked. You heard a pleased hum above you, after another stroke of her tongue to your bitten nipple. The pleasure made you once again clench around her strap that was momentarily forgotten due to her onslaught on your breasts.

"Do you think she could make you behave like I do?" She whispered, her breath cooling your wet nipple.

"I think she is weak."

"Wouldn't even fuck you right."

Only you...

You tried a muffle, and a deep breath without the fear of the rope rubbing over your nipples.

"Maybe you forgot how a good fuck feels."

"Maybe I should remind you."

"But you need to be punished first."

In the span of two seconds she pulled out abruptly only to ram back inside you in a powerful thrust, making you scream through your panties and tears to escape your tightly closed eyes. You expected that she would keep going, but she stilled after that one thrust. That was somehow more scary than if she started with a brutal pace.

"I think I now what your punishment will be."

Another powerful thrust. Another futile attempt from you to move. You only clenched at the stretch and moaned a scream.

"Don't forget, I now what you need to come."

Another powerful thrust, before she stilled again and the presence above you disappeared. But never left. The strap was still inside you when you felt hands gripping your thighs, pretty sure she could feel them tremble. A moment passed, as you tried to steady your ragged breaths that her torturous thrusts inflicted. A warm finger returned to your folds, stroking around the strap, pushing against the sensitive bundle of nerves, eliciting soft moans from you.

"So open for me..."

"And only I get to see it, right?"

"You would never let her see you like this, right?"

"Or else..."

Suddenly, the strap inside you came to life and you jerked. The vibration was constant and the strap stayed still as Sevika remained a rock between your legs, probably seeing your folds moving with the rhythm of the vibrations, a smirk on her face and lust in her eyes. Once again, you tried to close your legs but the ropes held them in place. You where at her mercy, and without a voice to plead for her to allow you your relief. As she said, she knew what you needed to come, and what she was giving you wasn't it. Fuck. It was punishment indeed. Being so close to the edge but never falling over it.

Something clicked and the intensity of the vibrations demanded more of your overstimulated walls and you wailed. To add more to your predicament, the ropes dug further into your skin as you involuntary pulled harder, forcibly reminding you of your helplessness and you whimpered.

An unexpected turn of events occurred, as you felt the cloth is your mouth being pulled away from you.

"Do you have anything to say?"

"Pl.. Please... It's not... enough..." You could only beg and pant between your whimpers and gasps.

"It's not supposed to be enough." You were so wound up and as a reflex you rolled your head back and pressed hard where it was resting on the pillow. It was the only part of your body under your control and you couldn't even control it. So it stayed there, leaving your neck an offer of submission to her.

"I ne-eed to come, p-please!" You felt a hot breath on you neck, a wet tongue licking a path from your throat to your ear and you forgot how to breathe, only to be reminded by the overwhelming stimulation between your legs a second later and you exhaled a gasp.

"Why should you?" You know she doesn't care what you need right now. This is a punishment and you are at her mercy.

Another click. You could hear the buzzing and the squelching of the strap against your wet walls. It was almost enough to feel it at your clit. Almost. You gasped freely now without the gag and heavy ragged breaths kept leaving your open mouth, chest moving up and down. You were feeling like you were about to explode.

"P-Please... So close..." Pain and pleasure consuming you, overstimulation getting the better of you.

"Do you need this?" A hard thrust of her hips, forcing you to move up the bed, despite being tied up.

"Ugh, yes..." You cried a moan.

"Or maybe this?" A firm circle with her thumb on your clit.

"Y-yes, please..." Your body shook with her rough treatment on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"How about this?" A thrust of her hips accompanied her stroking thumb on your clit.

You howled a cry and felt yourself getting closer to the edge. But as soon as she moved, she stilled once again, only the vibration of her strap left in its place deep inside you to keep up with its torture.

"Baby, p-please, let me come..."

"Do you think you deserve it?"

"P-Please... Yours..."

You must've said something right because suddenly everything stopped, the vibrations ceased and you felt it slightly move as she towered over you, both hands once again on either side of you. Her body was touching yours again and you could feel her sweat mingling with yours. Once again you tried to calm yourself, before she removed your blindfold. You blinked up at her, trying to adjust to the change in light, your eyes and cheeks wet by tears. You felt a warm calloused hand on your cheek, a thumb collecting the tears away. You hummed at the movement and closed your eyes.

"Sevika..."

"Did you learn your lesson?"

"P-please..."

"Answer me. Did you learn your lesson?" A hard, demanding grind against your throbbing center and you choked.

"Y-yes... Please..."

"And who do you belong to?"

"You... Only you..."

"Do you think anyone else can fuck you like I do?"

"No, no one... only you... I'm yours, baby, please..."

"Hmm, then I'll take what is mine."

She gave you no warning before sitting up once again, setting the strap on its highest setting and starting a brutal pace pistoning her hips. You howled at the sudden stimulation, at the friction the strap was providing, the maddening spot she was hitting within you and at the vibrations only adding to the sensations. Then metal and flesh hands gripped you hard by the hips to bring you harder against her with every thrust, and also to stop you from moving up the bed because of the force of her movements. You would be lying if you said that her show of strength didn't add to the wetness between your legs.

You began shaking again, trying to pull the ropes to free yourself, to wrap your legs around her waist to pull her in deeper, to circle your arms over her strong shoulders and feel the muscles under your fingers. But you should know better. This was a punishment after all, despite the fact that she was getting you closer to the edge. Sevika wanted you unmoving and you could do nothing about it. The thought of her owning you in such a way made you clench hard around the strap stretching you.

"P-please... So close... Only yours..."

"That's right, take it and come for me. I want my orgasm, baby." She was panting, her hips keeping up with the speed she set, not even faltering.

You were clenching, panting, moaning, gasping, trembling, unable to thrash, only managing to make the ropes dig further into your skin. You were so close and you both could feel it, see it and hear it. And finally a hard pressure of a thumb on your clit was all it took to push you over, and you crashed. A shiver rippled through you, all over your body, a silent scream left your lungs, your muscles on your stomach clenched, your tied arms and legs pulled harder on the ropes, the waves of pleasure never ending as she fucked you through your orgasm -no, it was hers and you were gladly giving it to her, or letting her take it- prolonging it, milking every bit of it, only turning off the vibrations and slowing down her pistoning when your breaths started to come down.

Her movements stopped and she once again towered over you. Her face close to yours when you finally opened your eyes, when the fog in your mind cleared enough for you to focus. She was looking intently at you, before leaning down to claim your mouth in a bruising kiss, demanding access to your mouth with her tongue, which you obediently granted. You were hers after all. Lost in the kissing and her soft lips you gasped in her mouth when she squeezed a breast and abruptly pulled out of you, chuckling at your reaction. The asshole.

She stood up after a kiss on your cheek, and with her metal hand started cutting away all the ropes and you let your arms and legs collapse on the mattress with a hiss. Glancing at the throbbing redness on your skin you huffed a curse. And then Sevika was once again on you, kissing you softly this time, in contrast with her roughness only a minute ago. She kissed your lips, your cheeks, your closed eyes, she kissed your dried tears, before gathering your hand with her own and kissing at the red bruises there. You hummed at her gentle motions and just lay there and let her do whatever she wanted. She kissed your other hand and wrist, your chest, a few light kisses on your sensitive nipples, on the marks the rope caused on your lower stomach, your knees and ankles, before coming back up to face you.

"You okay, baby?" She took a hand in hers, gave it a gentle kiss and traced her thumb over your knuckles.

"Hmm..."

"So, do you think you will remember what you learned tonight?"

You opened your eyes to see her smirk, mirthful eyes looking back at yours, and you huffed a chuckle.

"Only yours." You whispered with an exhale and closed your eyes again as you lightly squeezed her hand.

"Good girl. Now let me take care of you, beautiful."

She picked you up in her strong arms and carried you to the bathroom, water already filling the tub. You're not even sure when she managed to get the water running. You're not complaining though. You relaxed even at the thought of the pampering she had in store for you. As she always had before. Your heart always swelled at the gentleness that followed your every scene.

Maybe you should let your friend buy you another drink some other time, if that's what would be waiting for you afterwards.

Maybe you loved your sadist girlfriend and her punishments.

**********

"She said your delivery has arrived." You mumble, on the verge of sleep.

"Yeah, I know, she told me, too. That's what you're talking about at the bar?" She responds as she's getting out of the tub, after she helped you clean up.

"Among other things." You hear her shuffling and rummaging around the bathroom.

"Hmm" You can hear her ruffling with a towel, drying herself up, the gentle sounds tingling your senses.

"She liked my jeans, too." You add a little more mischief in your voice so she doesn't doubt that she caught it.

"I see." Her playful tone doesn't escape you as she picks up the nearby stool.

**********

She's behind you for what feels like forever, sitting on the stool and kneading every muscle on your back she can reach. You're sitting in the water, proped up with your back against the side of the bathtub, head down, hands resting palm-up at your sides and legs sprawled in front of you, occasionally feeling droplets fall on your shoulders from her wet hair.

"How you feeling, baby?" She asks as she's massaging the back of your neck with firm fingers.

"Mmm..." You're relaxed out of your fucking mind and she chuckles.

A few minutes pass with her keeping massaging you and you're melting under her touch.

"Was it too much?" Her sudden words would lull you further into a near-sleep state with how soft she spoke them, but the concern behind her voice does exactly the opposite and your ability to think comes back to you as you sit a little straighter in the tub.

"What?"

"Tonight... Was it okay?"

"Baby, it was more than okay. But I would prefer that we wait before repeating that." You slightly turn your head just so she can see the smile on your face and you hope it can ease her mind.

It's true, you really enjoyed tonight, maybe a little too much, and you've done similar stuff before with her rough-fucking you into oblivion, so you're a little unsure why she's checking in with you again, not that you mind. You love your girlfriend and her soft heart, even more so that she only let's you to see it. But you would be lying if you said that her possessiveness tonight didn't turn you on.

"You sure? You know I only did it for fun, right? I wasn't jeal-"

"Sevika." You cut her off.

You hear her exhale, stopping her rambling and clearly waiting for you to say what you have to say, her hands never halting their motions over the top of your back and shoulders and you try to choose your words carefully now that you now what her concern is.

"Baby, it's fine, I promise. Yes, it was new and unexpected, but I really, really enjoyed it. Trust me, if I didn't I would've told you, right?"

"Yeah, yeah..."

"Besides, we've done some hardcore stuff before." You turn abruptly to face her, inevitably splashing water everywhere on the wall, the floor, on her, and you give her the naughtiest smirk as you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively.

She looks back at you, hands hovering in front of her naked frame due to your sudden movement, mouth agape, an adorable dumbstruck look on her face and you would swear you fall in love with her all over again. A few seconds pass before she gets her mind straight again and she chuckles, shaking her head at your antics and dropping her hands on her knees.

"Now you just have to be extra nice to me and pamper me some more." You softly smile up at her and try to convey to her that tonight was indeed perfect and she finally let's out a huff and nods.

"Of course, beautiful." A hand coming up to your face, a thumb stroking your cheek and you turn a little to place a kiss in her palm as you reach to hold her hand with your own.

"Can you pretty please massage me some more now?" You look up at her with your irresistible puppy eyes, squeeze her hand and she chuckles.

"Anything you want, baby." She smiles and gently nudges you to turn back around.

**********

A soft kiss on the back of your neck and fingers gliding to caress your shoulders have you humming contently and with closed eyes you slowly throw your head back over the edge of the bathtub to lean on her knee and smile up at her.

"Ready to get out? Water's getting cold." She says as she smooths your wet hair out of your face.

"Just a couple minutes..." You mumble.

"Okay, beautiful."

You hear her shift in her place before you feel hands cradling your face as she leans down to steal a gentle kiss and you moan before reciprocating.

"You know..." you mumble between the kissing and she acknowledges you with a hum, not wanting to stop worshiping your soft lips with her tongue.

"Maybe I should let her buy me another drink the next time."

She slowly pulls back and you open your eyes to look up at her, a devilish smirk, a raised eyebrow, a trace of the possessive look she gave you at the bar evident on her face, and you already feel a shiver travel up your spine.

"Maybe you should."

Oh, the trouble you can get into.

**********

taglist : @opropheticsoul

Thanks for reading! :)

#arcane #sevika #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #writing #fanfiction #my writing #my fics

346 notes · View notes

ladey · 5 months ago

Text

i can’t believe i’m doing this

Jinx x Fem!Reader 🌸

notes: explicit smut, swearing, mature & sexual topics, characters are 18, y/n's height is implied to be short (5'0ft), reader is feminine! minors & men dni !!

wc: 5.4k

—🍓

“You wanna hookup with someone?!”

Only 2 weeks are left of the school year. The days are longer and warmer, and now that it's technically summer the weather is no longer rainy and dreary like it had been in spring. Not that you can complain. It means that you can watch the tree buds and the flowers bloom while your seasonal depression slowly dissipates.

Right now you sit in the school cafeteria during lunchtime. It's not too often you do; the friends you have are usually all over the place and like to go out somewhere to do whatever during the lunch period. However today is one of those days where there is only three of you, and you guys just so happen to be sitting at a table smack-dab in the middle of the cafeteria.

And this gives you three a perfect view of all the different people in your school...

Fatima and Bailey, two of your best girl friends, are sat across from you with bewildered expressions. You had just told them out of the blue that you were thinking about hooking up with someone so that you can lose your virginity before graduation.

You feel embarrassed and start focusing on eating your cafeteria bought garlic fingers. But you’re pulled back into what you already unfortunately started. "Why am I surprised but also not surprised?" Fatima squints her eyes in an odd analyzing sort of way.

On the contrary, Bailey looks excited. "That is big news, Y/n! Do you know who you wanna do?" She leans closer from across the table and reaches her arms out to grab yours tightly. The girl has hooked up with so many random people, you aren’t sure why she does it or if she enjoys it as much as she says she does. But you know that if you’re going to attempt this, going to her for help would be a wise decision.

"Umm.. Well I had a few people in mind. There are a couple of guys that would be down no questions asked..."

"You sound unsure." Bailey observes.

"Um... I just— I think, maybe doing this with a girl would be better.. or nicer..." You whisper, looking around to be sure no one is listening. Fatima looks up from her phone with an eyebrow raised.

"That's probably gonna be way harder to figure out. Girls are picky, they know what they want and they'll make sure they get it. Especially, when looking for a hookup." Fatima explains. You get the feeling that she's just talking about herself. "Plus, there's like barely any girls in this school who regularly hookup."

Bailey turns to her. "Well they don't have to be someone who does regularly. As long as they're open to them then that's all that matters." She shrugs and turns back to you and smiles. "And they have to be hot of course. Someone who knows what they're doing."

"Hm..." you hum, leaning back a bit as you gaze veers off to nowhere in particular.

You wonder what hooking up with someone would even be like. Before starting high school, you hoped that you would meet someone and finally get into you first relationship. And it's not that you think going into college or university as a virgin is bad, you just want to be able to say that you have some experience. You also really want to know what sex is truly like instead of just imagining it in your head.

At that same time, a loud laugh reverberates to your left. You turn around and see a girl with long blue hair and an obnoxiously punk-esk style standing a couple tables away from yours.

She throws a plastic bottle at a boy who's drenched in water. Him and the others there laugh, and she waves them off before walking in your and your friend's direction. You look away and squirm in your seat, hoping the girl won't approach you guys.

Your prayers were ignored though.

"Hey Jinx!" Fatima calls out warmly, Bailey smiles with a wave. Curse you and your whole friend group for being friends with literally everyone.

Jinx momentarily stops behind you to greet the two girls, "Hey Fatima. Nice top." And she's walking away again. But not before punching you shoulder, almost sending you flying against the edge of the table and breaking a couple ribs.

"Jeez." You grumble under you breath as you glares holes into Jinx's back as she walks away. Out of nowhere Fatima sits up straight and her face fills with realization.

"Holy shit. You can hook up Jinx." Your stomach drops to your ass.

"Huh?" "What?" You and Bailey say at the same time. Fatima looks at the two of you like what she said should've been obvious.

"What? She literally hooks up people all the time. With girls. She's exactly what you're looking for, don't try to convince me otherwise."

"She's an asshole to me! Are you forgetting we hate each other?" You protest.

"So what? Then the sex will be better."

Bailey slowly turns her head to look at you who's currently trying to control you breathing. For some reason the idea has your heart beating rather fast. "I heard that she had a pregnancy scare once, and never hooked up with a guy since." Bailey hushes quietly, making you gasp.

"Ew..." You grimace slightly. Jinx with a dude? Highly unlikely. Why does that thought make you a little mad?

"Pft yeah I heard that before." Fatima chuckles.

They veer onto a different topic right until the bell rings signaling the end of lunch. When you sling you bag over your shoulder Fatima goes to stand beside you. "Just think about it. Remember you can ask Mikey to help you sort it out." Her and Bailey send you reassuring smiles and the three of you go your separate ways to your respective classes.

A few days pass by and you are sitting in the cafeteria again. You’re on your free period right now, but you’re still rubbing your temples to ease the slowly dissipating headache from the previous math class.

You’ve been thinking about your discussion with the girls ever since it happened. And after deep thought and consideration...

Jinx sits at a table not too far from yours. A couple boys are with her and they seem to be laughing at something on one of their phone screens. Jinx is facing away from you, but you have a good view of her exposed back. Her long blue braids cascade behind and passed her shoulders and you can see the muscles jump whenever she leans farther across the table. You have also noticed that Jinx always seems to sit with her legs spread, and you realizes that that's always been a trait you like on women.

...You’re starting to believe that you might just give in.

But then Mikey comes bounding into the area all happy and gleeful. He looks around and goes to Jinx's table, talking and laughing about god knows what, then approaches another popular dude carrying a basketball.

Minutes pass until Mikey is finally walking up to your table. You swear, this dude knows everyone. He's part of the reason why you even know who anyone is, and why they know you exist.

"What's good, Y/n?" He plops himself down across from you and pulls his own phone out to place it on the table.

You shrug only giving a small smile. "I'm fine."

Mikey notices you look conflicted about something and decides to dig farther. He squints his eyes at you. "Something is on your mind. What is it, tell me?" He waves his hand beckoning you to talk to him.

You puff hair into your cheeks then blow it out. You’re not sure you should bring up the topic from before. You’re afraid he'll have something negative to say.

What if she has a girlfriend— or worse, a boyfriend that you don't know about?!?!

"I was talking to Fatima and Bailey a couple days ago about... who the right people to hook up with would be." You start. Mikey hums and nods. You just stare at him hoping he'll get the hint.

"Soo you wanna hook up with someone?" Thank god.

"Yes." You sigh. "And we came to the conclusion that—Jinx," you choke, "could be a good person. Or whatever." You pause. "Look I wanted to choose a girl instead of a guy because if I'm gonna hook up with some rando, I want it to at least be enjoyable and not super uncomfortable..." You don't want to bear the pain of having your cherry popped by some impatient horny dude.

Mikey just looks at you, seemingly processing the information and thinking about it.

"Well, with Jinx it's a 50/50. It depends on her mood. She doesn't get into details about the shit she does, but with you... Ehhh she'd probably be a bit rough." He explains. Why he knows this information, you don't wanna know.

And you guess what he meant by that is how you and Jinx aren't on the best of terms, and that if it came down to it she'd probably be tempted to strangle you to death in the middle of it or something...

"Okay.."

"I can go ask her what her type is. Find out if she likes ass or tits." He holds his hands out as if weighing two options. "Wait wait. You know how she fucks depending on her mood, but you don't know what her type is?" You say a little too loudly in the quiet cafeteria. Jinx glances behind her at your table.

Mikey shrugs his shoulders now looking like he's being accused. "Listen, I don't go askin' her what she likes and dislikes, I don't care. She tells me what she tells me on her own. Now do you want my help or nah?"

You groan and lean back, fingers clutching at the edge of the table. You think about it to yourself one last time.

You’d be shocked to find out if Jinx is actually open to hooking up with you. You yourself aren't an eye sore, many people have tried hitting you up both online and in person. But you and Jinx's relationship have always been a bit rocky seeing as you just never got along due to your differences and.. lack of tolerance. So you’re not sure if Jinx would be able to ignore that for once just to spend a little while fucking... Oh jeez.

You glance past Mikey at Jinx's figure once more and sigh. You play with the rings on your fingers, "Fine, go." You wave him off curtly. He gets up and leaves.

Mikey, please don't make this obvious. You think to yourself as you watch him casually sit himself down beside Jinx and dap her up.

You squirm in your seat and distract yourself with your phone when the two seem to fall into conversation. You doesn't expect Mikey to come back only minutes later.

"That was quick." "Yeah. So, she said she leans more towards tits but ass is good too." "Did you find out her type?" "Ehh, she didn't really say anything specific. So, I think you're good."

He gives you a thumbs up.

You breathe out a sigh. So, you guess that you’ll just make up your mind from here and find out if Jinx is game or not. You tap your long nails against the flat surface before finalizing, "Okay. I'm down."

Mikey smiles at you approvingly. "Alright~ I'll ask her at lunch."

The sun had gone down. The street lamps seep in through the sheers covering the windows. You sit quite still on the edge of your bed, knees pulled up to your chin as you stare down at the floor ahead of you.

Earlier that day after lunch, Mikey had found you looking like he was in an oddly good mood. Turns out Jinx said yes and now you’re to expect the girl to message you at some point.

Why? Why did Jinx agree? Could this be a set up, or a joke to her? Will Jinx meet you somewhere and just make fun of you the whole time until you leave feeling humiliated with yourself? You know Mikey would never do that to you, but Jinx...

You bite your lip, your gloss shining in the soft glow of the pink LED lights stuck to your walls. They're always able to put you in a good mood, paired with some music playing softly from your speaker. At the moment they're struggling to do so.

Right as soon as you huff and fall backwards onto your mattress, you get a notification from Snapchat. Your heart leaps and you slowly lift the screen up to your face. And what do you know, it's none other than a message from Jinx.

You tap the screen and open it...

Jinx: so me, huh?

Y/n: oh don't get so cocky.

Jinx: isn't that what u wanted??? 😹

Y/n: don't start pissing me off now.

Jinx: jeez louise nobody can joke with ya 😒

Y/n: anybody but you.

Jinx: we'll see abt that

Well... this is magnificent. This is actually happening. You’re going to fuck Jinx. Or the other way around— Both perhaps? You’re confident in yourself, you always have been. You may not have firsthand experience but you knows the basics.

Now you have to prepare yourself. At this point there's practically a week left of classes, so you’re aware this is going to happen soon. You only hopes Jinx won't be too unpredictable and give you whip lash with whatever plans she comes up with.

The when and wheres have you on edge already. You try to look at the bright side, and all you can come up with is the fact that at least Jinx isn't a stranger...

The car ride is deathly silent for nearly the whole time. Save for a couple of questions made in a lame attempt at small talk.

You have no idea where Jinx is taking you two. She had said a while ago that there is a couple of places that people go to hookup. You can guess you have no idea what these places are, or what they look like. Or if it's even safe or far enough out of public's eye.

You feel a need to act a certain way in hopes of not coming off too boring or unemotional. You cross you legs and rest your chin on your fist, staring out of the window and at the passing trees. Only sparing the blue haired girl a few glances. The girl in question stares straight forward, left hand clutching the steering wheel and her right arm resting on the middle storage compartment cushion.

You wonder if Jinx is high and that's why she agreed. But this had been planned for a week now. Oh how you wish you hadn't suggested the girl to your friends.

You're growing increasingly nervous and scared about how it will go. How Jinx will treat you. Or if you will embarrass yourself in front of her. It's embarrassing enough knowing that Jinx now knows that you're a fucking virgin. You can feel your dignity slowly draining like a leak while coming to terms with the fact that you're quite literally giving your virginity away to your enemy.

The only positive thing your can tell yourself is that at least she's better than a near stranger.

"What'd you tell your parents as a cover up?" Jinx's raspy voice cuts through the soft rumble of the car. Your look over at her.

"Or are you so much of a goody-goody that you told them what you're doing?" Jinx turns her head and a smirk spreads across her face as she looks you seated beside her; sitting almost poshly in a way that makes her want to roll her eyes and laugh.

You glower at her even after she's turned away. "Obviously I told them I'm hanging out with a friend. What else would I have said?" You mumble the last part as you look away to stare out of the window once more. You're expecting a retort but shockingly one doesn't come.

You've driven out of the main city and have now been driving through woodsy areas for the past almost 10 minutes. And although the nice warm sunny weather makes up for it, you're starting to get antsy.

"Are we almost there?" You mumble loud enough for Jinx to hear as you sit up in your seat. Fingers now fidgeting in your lap.

"Getting excited are you?" You hear Jinx tease. You don't even bother sparing her a glance. "Shut up, that's not what I meant." Truly, you just want to get this over with.

Jinx let's out a hum as she turns onto a rocky road. Dust wafts up past the windows and soon she pulls into a small-ish secluded parking lot behind an old building. It's shaded by large trees, and vines slither up the cracking and chipping brick building. Only slivers of sunlight manage to peak through the leafy branches above them.

If it were under different circumstances, you would quite like this spot. However you can't lie that you aren't apposed to it. In fact you're feeling kind of—

"We're here." Jinx's voice cuts through your thoughts for a second time today. You had barely noticed when the girl had stopped the car and sat there looking at you for a moment.

You stop your inspecting and slowly turn to face the other girl while you nod your head. "It's nice."

Jinx takes a deep breath and sighs, her hand still resting on the wheel as she looks forward. She looks like she's fighting to find words to say. She scrunches her face up for a moment and then it's back to neutral. You're just watching her.

All of a sudden Jinx is opening the door and closing it after she steps out. You watch her walk to the back door and open it; she leans in and fiddles with something until the back seats slide 20 or so inches backwards.

Oh. She's giving us more room...

You feel your stomach flip. You turn back around burying your face in your hands, whispering to yourself, "I can't believe I'm doing this."

You unbuckle yourself with trembling hands and let yourself out of the passengers seat to go meet the girl waiting for you. Who's now found herself a spot and began fiddling with something on the floor.

You open the door and ungracefully sit yourself down, shutting the door harder than intended.

"Careful, would ya?" Jinx sits up and frowns. "I pay for this thing." You curl your lip and roll your eyes while looking away, mumbling a half assed "sorry."

Jinx shuffles a bit and sniffles before facing you and giving her full attention. Her expression gives away that she's analyzing you. Now you feel like a freak.

"Soo, how much experience do you have?" Jinx casually asks. You open your mouth to reply but nothing comes out.

God how can people do this? And like it's nothing? How is she so chill about it?

"Um.." You shrug. "I know how to kiss." You timidly meet Jinx's eyes which were unknowingly staring right into yours.

"That's better than nothin'." The bluenette says. Her eyes rake up your body until she meets your eyes again. She scoots closer until your knees are touching and she reaches out to grab your arms; your hands previously fidgeting in your lap.

"Mind if I kiss you?" Jinx's rough teasing voice is so close to your ear. You involuntarily take a breath through your parted lips. The lips that Jinx is gazing at every few seconds before looking into your eyes.

You look down at Jinx's lips. They're shut, but still plump and soft and shining with what looks to be lip-chap. You think you can smell cherry cola. How typical.

But you really don't want to keep Jinx waiting. Only a couple of seconds have passed but it feels like it's been 5 minutes already. Your jaw clenches; eyes quickly flicker up to Jinx's making momentary eye contact before going back down to her lips and closing the gap.

Jinx is slightly taken aback but she's quick to reciprocate. Her hands move to rest on your bare thighs, fingers gently caressing the supple skin. You feel your breath catch in your throat. One of your hands timidly reach up to Jinx's toned arm, slowly gliding up her bicep until it's resting on her shoulder.

You two separate for a second to catch your breaths at the same time Jinx's sneaky hands begin sliding farther up your thighs. You let out a hot breath against Jinx's lips, who lets out a breathy chuckle and presses her lips back against yours.

Jinx's tongue slides against your bottom lip. You gladly grant her entrance and the bluenette wastes no time slipping it inside of your mouth. You didn't really lie that much when you said you knew how to kiss. You have a general idea. You only have minimal experience with it...

You tentatively stick your own tongue out to glide it against Jinx's. She responds by pressing hers harder against yours and pulling away until there's a line of saliva connecting between your lips.

The kiss then turns into a full out make out session. Jinx's hands clutch tightly at your waist, pulling you closer while you cup her face. You feel Jinx keep tugging on you and pulling you closer, and you get the signal to shuffle around a bit and swing a leg over her thighs, now straddling her.

Now this is starting to feel super intimate. And the fact that you're is doing this with Jinx... You almost can't believe it.

But you also can't complain. Because Jinx knows exactly what she's doing; her hands sneak under the hem of your shirt and glide up the smooth skin of your back, making you involuntarily arch into her while goosebumps rise across the expanse of your back. Before gliding all the way down until her hands cup your ass and give a firm squeeze.

You let out an involuntary hum. Jinx pulls away to place a kiss onto your jaw, and quickly starts trailing her lips down your neck.

You let your eyes flutter shut. You try desperately to let herself relax, for you can still feel the tension in your body and you're sure Jinx can sense it too when she pulls her face away and peers up at you with a quizzical look.

"You needa relax, toots. 'Course, I can help ya with that." She starts moving you over sideways, making you momentarily confused before coming to the realization that she's trying to lay you guys down. Oh gosh.

Jinx pushes you down onto your back and maneuvers herself between your legs, her hand reaching down to wrap one around her waist. She leans down and places a deep passionate kiss onto your lips, nearly knocking the air out of you.

"Breath." Jinx murmurs and places her lips back onto your neck, right below your ear. And that sends a bolt of arousal right down to your core. You take Jinx's advice and take a deep breath, then exhale into the air that has become increasingly hotter in the tiny space.

Your hand reaches up to rest in Jinx's hair, lightly tugging on the blue strands, pulling a hum out of her. Her low voice so close to your ear uprises the sensation that your whole body is tingling and vibrating. You're only just getting started and you've already began to turn into putty under the girl's touch.

Dark marks have began to form on the supple skin of your neck thanks to Jinx. It stings just a tad, but you don't have much time to think about that because Jinx is tenderly kissing your cheek and then your lips again. However This time much more greedy than before, teeth clashing and saliva smearing over your mouths and chins.

Jinx moans softly into your mouth as she gets intoxicated by your scent, letting her hands roam your body. "Fuck, your perfume, it tastes nice." Jinx mumbles, biting your bottom lip. That makes you chuckle, "It 'tastes nice'? I reckon if you were to taste perfume it would taste pretty bad."

"Yeah well, it actually tastes pretty good." She pulls you back into a kiss, slipping her tongue into your mouth. "You taste so sweet..." She mumbles softly into the kiss.

She rests her forehead against yours for a short moment. Then pulls back and flitters her eyes across your face, taking in every feature and detail. Her hand starts to travel down your side slowly, testing the waters. Nimble fingers dance over the inside of your upper thigh; your hands fist at the back of her shirt in growing anticipation.

And finally, Jinx's fingers touch the place you had been wanting her to so badly. She presses against your clothed clit earning a short moan from you. She gives the most sexiest smile and moves downward, places a kiss below your bellybutton, then starts pulling down your skirt and panties.

You lift your hips to help, and once they're slid passed your ankles and tossed somewhere at the front seats she wastes no time kissing down your thighs.

Jinx hooks your legs over her shoulders and you hold your breath. The closer she gets the stronger the throbbing ache grows. Your eyes stay trained on her, who looks up at you for a faction of a second before licking a stripe up your folds.

There is no holding back your gasp. You're not sure what you were expecting. It felt warm and wet, but.. soft? "You taste sweet, who woulda thought?" Jinx rasps. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. You forget what she even said though once her tongue splays against your flowery folds again.

Jinx's tongue feels so good against you, working you up as she swirls her tongue around your clit. Forcing your hand to shoot down and bury in her blue hair.

Jinx peers up at you for a moment, checking in to see how your taking it, and she smirks when she sees your head thrown back and your plump lips parted as you let out huffs and soft whimpers.

This feels way better than masturbating. You assume it must be because someone else is doing it for you; you can't predict what Jinx will do next or when she'll change the pace. Or when she'll twist and hook her fingers just the right way to hit that sweet spot inside of you.

That almost makes you jolt out of your skin. That was very unexpected... then you think that maybe it actually was. You don't complain though. Not when the added sensation has you tingling from the souls of your feet to the top of your head. By this point you've pretty much stopped caring about who is actually fucking you right now.

"Oh fuck~ right there." Your hand fists in her hair, the other moving around to anchor onto anything in reach. Jinx hums into your wetness, sending the vibrations tumbling through you and bubbling your brain. She pulls away for a moment, using just her fingers to please you as she praises. "You're doing so well, babe."

That makes your skin flush and the sweat that you've been ignoring before, forms as a thin sticky sheen over your body. Your hips move with her fingers, chasing your high that has begun to form as a coil deep in your abdomen.

Your thighs tighten around Jinx's head. Even though she loves to be smothered by a girl, right now she wants all the room and access she can get. You whine when her fingers leave you to spread your legs wider again, making you lose the delicious friction you were getting. Jinx chuckles. "Patience baby, I'll get you there."

Instead of going back inside, Jinx decides to play with your clit instead. Her thumb rubs circles over the sensitive nub, perfectly lubricated by her saliva and your juices. You sigh. "F-faster please. Feels s'good." Your words are slurred, mind hazy as the pleasure pools in your core. But you need more.

And that's what Jinx gives you. As if reading your mind, she plunges back inside of you without warning and curls her fingers, causing a lewd squelch to emit from your pussy. "Oh fuck, right there! Please don't stop!"

You beg and cry, tears forming in your eyes, both hands now on Jinx's head as you push her face deeper against you. You can hardly catch your breath with the way Jinx is making you feel. Your legs are quivering and starting to feel boneless, Jinx has to hold them up a bit when they start to give out. Not that that would've been much of a problem anyway. The feeling of her strong hands gripping firmly onto your hip and thigh only fuels the coil that is so close to snapping.

"C'mon Y/n, you can do it." She mutters into your pussy, puffy folds spread wide for her as her glazed eyes go back and forth between her fingers drilling into you, and the way your head lawls back as you tremble beneath her. She could watch you for days and never get bored. You look absolutely stunning to her.

Your pathetic attempts at holding back your loud moans are pointless now. Jinx’s words have you teetering over the edge, encouraging you. The blue haired girl’s tongue dances over your clit again, and that action is what finally gets the job done. The coil low in your stomach snaps, and all you see for a few seconds is white.

You’re not even aware of how loud you get. You just know that nothing has ever felt this good in your life. It’s almost otherworldly. Your mind and body in pure bliss as Jinx fucks you through your orgasm, gummy walls pulsating around her fingers. Her mouth slurping up every drop of your sweet juices.

As you come down from your high she’s still tonging at you, cleaning you up before pulling away and placing a kiss to your inner thigh. She places a few more up your belly before she’s hovering above you again, and you now have a full view of her face.

It’s slightly comical, you can’t help but giggle when you push some of her hair away behind her ears. She’s about to kiss you when she notices and frowns.

“You got some stuff on your face.” Her cheeks, nose and chin look like they just got splashed with water. “Ah.” Jinx smiles and wipes her face with the back of her hand. Then finally she kisses you. You can taste yourself on her lips, and it’s kinda odd… Oddly arousing.

Your arms wrap around her neck, feeling yourself melt into the kiss. You want to feel her closer, resting against you. Not in a sexual way, but simply just to feel her. Damn, does this usually happen after sex?

Jinx hums and pulls away, her thumb idly rubbing circles on your side. “You took it better than I expected.” Hah, there’s the Jinx you know. You pout at her teasing smirk. “Do we really need to start something right now?”

Jinx’s low raspy laugh thrums through you when she sits up and pulls you with her. She helps you seek out your clothes, checks in on you when you when you guys get ready to leave, and the drive back to your house (which will actually be the end of your street), is comfortingly quiet.

The car pulls over to the side of the road. While you gather your things Jinx clears her throat. “All jokes aside I had fun toots.” You turn your head to look at her. She’s staring at you with a hint of a smile, her blue eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them before. You return the smile with a small nod.

“I did too.” You open the door and step out, waving at her before shutting it. You see her wave back before driving off down the street until she’s out of sight.

While you slowly walk down the sidewalk back home, you realize that this has probably changed things. You like to believe for the better.

But holy shit, you just slept with Jinx.

#lesbian #jinx x female reader #jinx x fem!reader #jinx x reader #arcane jinx #jinx arcane #jinx x y/n #jinx smut #jinx x reader smut #jinx x fem!reader smut

174 notes · View notes

euphorajeon · 9 months ago

Text

wednesday night(s) | jjk

— pairing: jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff? | college au

— word count: 2.9k

— warnings: laundromat!jk (!!!), stalkerish behaviour (not jk or oc), dubious-consensual kissing (but they talk about it after), jk is a sweetheart and oc is just a blabbering mess

— summary: on a wednesday night seven weeks ago, you met someone in the laundry room. this wednesday night, you meet him again.

— author's note: i suck at summaries,, the story is better i promise (i hope,,, T_T) anyways. i had this in the draft like a few weeks after seven mv was released and then got stuck, revisited it months later then finished it like this. hah. i hope laundromat!jk with his grey hoodie and curly hair is enough to keep this enjoyable :]

masterlist

The dim lighting of the shared laundry room in your apartment building greets you as you step inside with your laundry basket in hand. It’s devoid of other people when you look around, the whirring of the washers and dryers the only sound competing with the silence of the night. You exhale a breath of relief, quickly making a beeline for the nearest empty washer to load your dirty clothes that’s piled up for a week.

Being a college student doesn’t give you many options for your living arrangement, only being able to settle on a one-bedroom apartment with a communal laundry room. In the first months of moving into the apartment, your schedule only allowed you to do your laundry on the weekends, which was apparently the same case for most patrons of the building. The laundry room was always full of people and you had to secure a washer by waiting for someone else to finish, wasting precious hours away from your supposedly free weekend. That, and your social battery was always drained from all the loud conversations among roommates and friends alike when they were also waiting for a washer to free up. You couldn’t stand having your energy gone even before Monday said hello, so you tried to clear your schedule to avoid doing laundry on the weekend.

Wednesday nights are scheduled for laundry now, after a day of two classes at campus and one shift at the coffee shop five bus stops away from where you live. Usually you’d be tired after the long day, but the laundry room is mostly quiet in the middle of the week, so you use the time to decompress while preparing yourself for your 10 am shift at the coffee shop Thursday morning. The burn in your arms after folding your shirts and pants for nearly twenty minutes helps you tune out your surroundings, which normally consists of the occasional one or two other patrons coming in and the whirr and beep of machines.

“You showed up late tonight.”

Ah, that’s something you forget to mention. Or rather, someone.

Your heart jumps in your chest, beats stuttering a bit faster not because you’re flustered in his presence, but because he just popped out of nowhere. Wasn’t the room empty when you scanned it upon your entry?

Maybe you were too busy trying to declutter your mind from the day’s events that you didn’t hear him loading his own laundry into the washer. Didn’t hear the beep when his washer started, didn’t hear him calling you upon noticing your presence, didn’t hear him walk closer, and certainly didn’t hear when he sat on top of the washer right next to the one you’re using. Or maybe you did hear something, but didn’t care enough to find out who it was.

“Did you go on a date?” He gestures to the black tanktop you have on underneath your denim jacket. Probably referring to your face too, which is still caked with make up because you haven’t had time to clean it off yet. You spare him a glance with a downturn of your lips, by now a standard response to whatever he says, really.

You met him for the first time around seven weeks ago, when he accidentally knocked you over with his gigantic laundry basket. He had apologized profusely with that big, round peepers of his and you had brushed him off with a polite smile, hoping he’d just drop it and leave you alone like any normal person would. He had been silent for the rest of his laundry cycle, but you could feel the way his eyes never left your figure for the remainder of the night.

A week after that, you found him using the exact same washer as last week and tried to avoid the one next to his, planning to load your laundry quietly and duck out of there before he had the chance to realize that you were in the vicinity. The plan was … partly successful as you managed to get out of the laundry room to wait out the washing cycle in your room, but not before he appeared beside you when you were putting in fabric softener into the washer. He had waited until your washer started running to once again voice out an apology for the laundry basket incident, something you told him to chill out about. He was just about to tell you his name when you mumbled out an excuse to flee, leaving him gaping in the middle of the laundry room. You did not want to know his name.

You found out anyway on your next Wednesday shift at the coffee shop, when you were munching on a chocolate muffin in the break room with one of your coworker, Mingyu. He had been showing you his Instagram account, scrolling through the photos when you recognized the Laundry Guy in one of them. “You know him?” Mingyu had inquired upon noticing your thumb had paused scrolling. A recount of what happened two weeks ago involving a certain doe-eyed boy and his enormous laundry basket was told, pulling out an amused laugh from your coworker. “His name is Jeongguk,” Mingyu kindly informed you (even though you didn’t ask.) “He’s in a few of my classes. Likes doing laundry. One time I went to his apartment to hang out and he did laundry in the middle of the night.”

Maybe you would’ve liked this Jeongguk guy if he kept doing his laundry in the middle of the night, out of your sight.

“Hey, Star, someone is looking for you.” The sound of Jeongguk’s voice pulls you back to the present.

Star. The nickname he started calling you by when he saw you loading your blanket—which is dark blue in color and has yellow stars all over it—into the washer one time. You’ve never really responded to it, but he sticks by the nickname like he’s been calling you that since you both were five. You let him have it then, seeing it as a win-win because it keeps him from knowing your name but still lets you know whenever he’s around and talking to you.

But beyond the nickname, the words after that caught your attention. Jeongguk’s nudge on your arm is barely noticeable, but the way his eyes are fixated on the doorway makes you follow his line of sight. There, just outside the laundry room, stood the person you want to see the least right now. Not after the shitty presentation you gave in class this morning (that in turn, got you scolded by your professor), not after you did terrible on your quiz on the second class, and not after you got an earful from your manager at the cafe for not handling a customer complaint professionally. Oh, and certainly, not in front of Jeongguk.

The person outside the laundry room yells your name. “Fancy meeting you here!” he continues, the cheery tone grating your ears. Fuck, how did he know where you live?

Hyun is—was—just a regular customer of the coffee shop you work at. You always see him on your shift, and in turn, have memorized his name and order because he always orders the exact same, simple thing: a medium caramel macchiato with two extra shots. Heck, it’s simple enough that even Mingyu has it drilled into his brain as well. There are multiple occasions where either you or Mingyu had already had Hyun’s order keyed in when he’s just approaching the cashier. Efficient work time, and all.

Unfortunately, this act of memorization is seen as flirting by the guy. He’s started smiling more at you, giving you cheeky winks, even sliding you his phone number on the napkin by the pick-up counter. You’ve tried to reject him politely, but Hyun is so dense that he interpreted your polite rejection as you playing hard to get and thus has been trying even harder to get you to date him. This makes you furious but Mingyu thinks it’s hilarious.

Wait. Mingyu…

He could be the one who told Hyun where you live. That motherfucker.

In the midst of your misery, you miss the way Jeongguk’s eyes light up at finally getting to know your name after seven weeks. Completely miss the way his eyes fill with mirth and his cherub cheeks lifting up in the beginning of a teasing smile, which dims as soon as he sees you bury your head in hands.

“Can we get out of here?” you grit through your teeth. You don’t even know when I turned to we, and with Jeongguk, of all people. You could’ve just bolted out of there, wait out your laundry cycle in your room like usual and pretend you don’t notice Jeongguk’s disappointed gaze that follows. Could’ve left him to deal with Hyun who’s inching closer towards you and have fun imagining him fumble trying to explain nonexistent shit to Hyun.

But that route could end up very badly if Hyun decided to abandon Jeongguk and follow you up to your room instead. It’s scary enough that he knows precisely what building you live in—you don’t need him knowing the exact room number. Hence, using Jeongguk as a shield at this moment feels like a safe choice.

“Heyyy,” Hyun’s voice reaches your ears again, prompting you to glance up, seeing him just a few steps away from you. In a desperate attempt, you grip the material of Jeongguk’s grey hoodie, whisper I’m so sorry before pulling him down to kiss him right on the mouth.

It’s awkward. You can feel how shocked Jeongguk is by the way his lips are still, frozen like a statue for the first few seconds of your kiss. Can’t blame him, though, after his numerous attempts of camaraderie were only responded with a cold shoulder by you. Heck, if you were in his position, you’d slap yourself across the face for pulling this crazy stunt. But Jeongguk is not you, so instead of that, he relaxes his lips before lightly gripping your jaw to angle your head better so he can kiss you properly.

And kiss properly you do, until all you can hear is only the smacking of your lips and the few soft sighs Jeongguk slips in between. He kisses you slowly, sucks on your bottom lip softly like it’s his favorite gummy candy and he wants to savor the taste. He must’ve had a lot of practice to be kissing someone this good.

“Really?” Hyun’s voice sounds far away in your head. “You think I would fall for that?”

When neither of you responds, still busy sucking each other’s lips, Hyun continues. “Please,” he says sarcastically. “Anyone could see that this is all fake.”

You feel Jeongguk pulling away from the kiss, his lips just a breath away from yours. You keep your eyes closed, your breath held, in fear that you’d melt into a puddle right then and there if you see Jeongguk’s face this close. When he speaks, the faint brush of his lips against yours makes you shiver.

“What makes you think this is fake?” he says. There’s a quirk on the corner of his lips when he kisses you again. “Never seen people kissing before? Or are you just trying to convince yourself that this is fake?”

Jeongguk’s hands move from your face to hold your waist, where he squeezes lightly before once again capturing your lips in his. You let out a muffled yelp when his hands slide lower to hoist you up onto a washing machine. The kissing resumes, more smacking sound is heard, and Hyun’s presence gets pushed to the back of your mind. All you can think about is Jeongguk’s lips, how warm and plush they are, and how they are pulling away from you again.

The tiny whine you let out gets lost in Jeongguk’s grunt, still addressing Hyun: “Scram, bro.” When that gets no response, he adds for good measure: “Shoo.”

You hear Hyun click his tongue in annoyance and the stomps he makes while walking away after, but find yourself unable to focus on either as Jeongguk goes back to sucking your bottom lip. The reason why you’re doing this definitely gets forgotten as you let yourself be carried away in Jeongguk’s kisses.

When someone tears open the door of the washing machine next to you loudly, you tear yourself apart from Jeongguk. He’s panting lightly, cheeks flushed and lips kiss-swollen. He’s also smiling at you, pointedly ignoring the dirty look thrown by the only other person in the laundry room other than you two. You grimace at the person, bowing slightly as a pathetic attempt at an apology.

Then you face Jeongguk again. Who’s still flushed. Whose lips still glisten red. Who’s still smiling at you, this time with mirth in his eyes. You fumble.

“Uh, about earlier—“

“Do you want to get off the washing machine first?”

Uh, what?

Right, you’re still sitting on top of the washing machine. Hoisted up by Jeongguk’s hands. On your thighs. Then kissing, licking, sucking—

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” You clear your throat, bracing your hands on the machine but Jeongguk beats you to it by once again taking hold of your waist to help you step down. Unfortunately, that means your legs haven’t caught up with your brain yet so they buckle like a pair of useless jelly underneath you. Again, Jeongguk steadies you with his firm hold, still with upturned lips.

“Woah, there. You okay?” He giggles—giggles!—eyes scrunching up into crescents. His hands never leave your waist even after you’re standing solid on your own two feet.

“Yeah, um, thanks.” You try to look at anything but him. “Listen, Jeongguk. I—“

“Wait, how do you know my name?” Jeongguk tilts his head, the unruly strands atop his head making him look like a puppy. “I never told you, did I?”

“Oh, Mingyu told me—“

“You know Mingyu?”

You lift your hands to place them on his shoulders firmly. “Let me finish first?”

Jeongguk smiles sheepishly, but nods to let you continue.

“Okay, um. I’m really sorry about earlier … the drama with Hyun and the— kissing…. I just couldn’t think and didn’t know what else to do. I’m really, very sorry.” You let your head drop, the weight of kissing a stranger starting to get to you.

Jeongguk is quiet. You’re conjuring up another speech of apology with some backstory to help you justify yourself, just in case he decides that your first apology isn’t enough.

“It’s okay.” Huh? “I liked kissing you, anyway.”

You choke on air. “Wh—at?”

“I liked kissing you.” Jeongguk smiles again, that same mirth still in his eyes. “You know, Star, for someone so confident in pulling me down for a kiss, you sure are stuttering a lot right now.” His smile turns into a teasing one. “Did you like kissing me too?”

The person next to you slams the washing machine door closed. “Get a room, people,” she hisses before walking out of the laundry room.

“Nice advice.” Jeongguk gestures to the retreating girl. “Should we, Star?”

Your eyes are round in shock, mortified at Jeongguk’s suggestion. Though, you suppose it’s karma for kissing a stranger only for your convenience. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, type of shit.

When you’re still frozen after five seconds, Jeongguk lets out a laugh. “I’m kidding, kidding! Oh, God, you look so scared. Seriously, though, it’s totally okay. You have nothing to be worried about.”

Despite the huge sigh you heave, you’re still not convinced. “Are you sure? I completely understand if you’re mad, though.”

“I’m gonna be mad if you keep apologizing,” Jeongguk says. “Or, if you feel that bad about it … you could pay me back with a date.”

This time, his smile is hopeful. “A date, where you could tell me your real name, how you know Mingyu, and the story about whoever the hell that was that interrupted our kiss.” Jeongguk raises an eyebrow teasingly. “Then, we could end it the way we started today … with a kiss. If you want?”

“Oh, well, if it’s to pay you back for the kiss, sure…” you trail off, feeling weird about how the situation has come to. “Damn, when you ask for my consent like that it makes me feel worse for not doing the same to kiss you earlier.” You physically face-palm.

“Since you feel so bad about that, do you want to ask for my consent now?” Jeongguk looks at you with his big, round eyes, appearing innocent like a child. You wonder if this is the same boy you just kissed some minutes ago.

“How, like, ‘Hey, Jeongguk, someone I don’t like just walked in, can I kiss you?’” you say, half giggling.

“Sounds like a mouthful, maybe just the last four words?” Jeongguk licks his lips.

You tilt your head in amazement, your lips curving up into a small smile. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes you can, Star,” comes Jeongguk’s reply, his hands going back to your jaw. He gives you a wink before dipping down.

“Yes, you can,” he whispers before kissing you once again.

Maybe now you’ll look forward to your weekly laundry schedule—after a day of two classes at campus and one shift at the coffee shop five bus stops away from where you live—on Wednesday nights.

Because on Wednesday nights, a certain boy with big, doe eyes and unruly hair does his laundry with his huge laundry basket and calls you Star. This Wednesday night, he kissed you—uh, you kissed him.

Next Wednesday night … you’d just have to wait and see.

a/n: thank you for reading!! hope you enjoyed this drabble while we wait for bangtan to come back :')) also you can give me feedback here! :D

#bts #bts au #fanfic #bts fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts fic #jungkook drabble #jungkook oneshot #jungkook au #bts jungkook #fic #bts college au #jungkook college au #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you

260 notes · View notes

spideyhexx · 2 months ago

Text

12 am thoughts with kit;

sfw; billy bonney

A deep voice calls out from a few paces behind you.

"You good up there?"

You stretch out your limbs on the grass, the heat burning down on your skin. The grass tickles your ankles, but it's nothing more than a friendly embrace to you.

"Mighty good," you reply, leaning up against your elbows and tilting your head to see the culprit of the voice. One mister Billy Bonney, outlaw extraordinaire as you liked to call him.

"I never find you in civilization," he says, his drawl sounds somehow thicker than you remembered it to be. He plops into the grass next to you and places his hat on the ground, arms resting over his knees.

"You don't know me as well you think you do if you're searching for me in town."

Billy chuckles at that and shakes his head, glancing down at you. His eyes squinty and his forehead a little wet from the heat.

It's probably been about three weeks since you last saw him. He stopped around and begged for some bread, which you gave him. If only he'd get a wasp's nest down from a tree near your home. Billy did it, no questions asked.

"How've you been?" He asks, and he's watching you intently. His gaze doesn't look out over the valley ahead, or at the sky where you're looking. Billy is watching you.

"Same old," you start, "Heard of you less."

It's true. He had rumors about his name going left and right for quite some time, but he's laid low enough for now that you've barely heard a peep.

"Tryin' to go straight," he tells you. And that's when his eyes look elsewhere, almost like he's embarrassed to admit it.

You lay back fully down, eyes at the sky, fingers absentmindedly digging into the earth. "I think ya could," you say, glancing at him, noting the curls at the nape of his neck that stick to his hot skin.

"Maybe I gotta be like you. Out in the middle of fuckin' nowhere," he chuckles again, a sound you could get used to. Without thinking, he grabs your hand, the one that's closest to him.

Billy's brow furrows, wiping away the dirt you willingly let hold your hand. It flashes you back to when you first ever met Billy almost a year ago, half of him was as dirty as a pig sty and you were scrubbing your tub for hours after he used it.

"There's dirt in your fingernails," he mumbles, mostly focusing on your hand, but he can't help but try to get the dirt from your nails too.

You let him.

"And you smell like you haven't showered in days."

Billy flashes you a small smile and then gently sets your hand back in the grass, giving it a pat before his hand return to himself, tapping to his thigh. He's jittery.

"'S a little hard to when you can't stay in one place long. I like it though," he says, inhaling, then letting out a deep breath, shifting to lay down fully next to you.

"Going to different places?"

He nods. "I don't know how you can stay here. In one place, I mean," then he adds, "how anyone could." Billy's hand rakes through his hair and he looks at you.

You return his gaze, and prop yourself on your arm to see him better.

Trailing your fingertips on the blades of grass in front of him, you find the right one, the one yearning for you, then pluck it, showing it to him, "all of the grass is the same on a first sight, yes? But this is still an individual blade. There is always something important about every part of the land. Something new to learn, to think about, all when you're not able to travel. Gotta use this..."

You knock your knuckles on his head to indicate his brain.

"And why can you not travel?" He asks out of curiosity. If anything, you would be a person who would want to travel all the time. See nature you've never encountered, discover everything new the way he has. That seemed exactly like something you would want.

"I think the trees here would miss me," you tell him, giving a little shrug. You expect him to laugh. To pry more. To question why that was your train of thought. But he doesn't.

Billy just nods, his expression focused as he replies, "I missed you when I left, so I think I can understand the trees' feelins'."

You should not let yourself smile as much as you do at his words, but it's hopeless. Billy reciprocates it.

"Missed me? You probably missed my jam," you say, deflecting his kind words.

He rolls his eyes dramatically, bringing one of his knees up and knocking his knuckles on it. Still jittery.

"I did miss your jam, you're right."

You place the blade of grass in his hair, then you turn onto your back again.

"Think I could stick around for a bit?"

Billy says it quieter, he might be unsure. Or nervous. His jitters don't tell you anything because Billy's hands were restless all the time, even when he was calm. You can usually tell with him, but you're not looking into his eyes. They always told you everything.

"I could use a ranch-hand," you mumble, pretending to mull it over.

The sun continues to beat down on the two of you, the clouds in the sky doing nothing to stop the effervescent power of the ball of light.

And when he nudges you with his elbow, waiting for your answer, you feel that ball of light accumulating inside the pit of your stomach. You will it away, gripping the earth at your side to push yourself more to the ground.

"I 'spose you could. Company would...," you glance at him and he's already grinning, "be nice."

100 notes · View notes

thezombieprostitute · 15 days ago

Note

Sending you good vibes. ✨

And this man.

You know, I've never written for this giant of a man.

A/N: I do not speak German. I'm pulling a few things from this post and The Little Book of Foreign Swear Words by Sid Finch.

A/N2: Tall reader. Also, for context, König is almost 7' tall.

Warnings: Bad German. Please let me know if I missed any.

Working customer service was a sure way to get you to dream of running away to the middle of nowhere and never interacting with people again. And it's not just the customers, either. If you have to hear your manager bitch about "kids these days" one more time you're gonna start throwing things.

You swear your manager, Lance, gets a kick out of making you, the tallest employee, restock the lowest shelves. For a guy who seemed so confident in himself he sure felt the need to put others down for his own ego. He even chuckles to himself as he walks by and you're bent down for those bottom shelves.

With your knees not able to take much more, you let yourself stand up for a breather. You're startled by a "Scheisse!" On the other side of the cart you were unloading is a veritable giant of a man with grey blue eyes. He looked just as surprised to see you as you were him.

"Tut mir leid," he says. "I...I didn't see you."

"I um...I was pretty well hidden," you stutter. You're so caught off guard by the handsome man you have to look up to that it takes you a few seconds to regain your professionalism. "Um, is there anything I can help you with?"

"Oh, nein," he shakes his head. "Just trying to find some beer. Good stuff that doesn't uh...schmeckt nicht nach Pisse."

"Well, let me go ahead and get this cart out of your way then so you can see all of the options."

"Danke." He almost sounds relieved that you took the initiative and he didn't have to ask. Considering he immediately goes for the beer that your cart was blocking you get the feeling he was looking at it for some time. You wouldn't be surprised if he tended to feel awkward, socially at least. You know what it's like to be too tall for your own good.

Of course that's the moment Lance decides to check up on your progress. He's already upset at seeing you standing at full height, but with the giant standing next to you, he apparently feels the need to metaphorically swing his dick around.

"What the hell, Giganto? You get too tired of being on your knees? That cart needs to be emptied. You're way behind!"

"Mr. Tucker, there's a customer," you warn.

"What is he your cousin or something? Probably can't find anyone big enough to put you in your place unless you're related to them, damn inbred---"

He's cut off by the giant customer grabbing his neck.

"Dein Schwanz ist so klein, dass es 'ne Maus nicht merkt, wenn du sie fickst."

As much as you don't want to stop him, the customer is assaulting someone. "Sir, I really appreciate your help, but I don't want to have to call the police."

He lets go of Lance, "you are right, Häsechen. He is not worth the police visit." He reaches into his pocket and writes something on a piece of paper before handing it to you. "Should you seek...different employment, give a call. KorTac is hiring and someone as...patient, smart as you could do well."

You smile as you take the paper from him. Given the glares Lance is giving you, you'll likely need to call by the end of the day. You hope you'll get to see him again. Looking at the paper he gave you it has the number followed by "KorTac. König"

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly

#zombie asks #könig x reader #könig x tall!reader #könig x you #könig imagine #konig x reader #konig x tall!reader #konig x you #konig imagine

101 notes · View notes

hottpinkpenguin · 5 months ago

Text

Easy Company HC's: Letters Home

A/n: I'm really rolling with these BofB headcanons! hope you enjoy :)

Characters included: Dick Winters, Lewis Nixon, Ronald Speirs, Carwood Lipton, Buck Compton, David Webster, Joe Liebgott

Dick Winters

Writes frequent, short letters

Meticulously dates his letters and includes a blurb about the weather. January 12th, 1945. It’s snowing outside, dark and cold.

Starts each letter with My dear y/n

Always asks how you are, even though he’s the one fighting a damn war

Follows up on every little question or story you include in your letters. How was the bake sale? Did you ever hear how Louise Graham’s brother is doing after taking that shrapnel to the shoulder? Hope you were able to get someone out to look at the washing machine.

Ends his letters with classic but sentimental sign-offs, like Affectionately yours and All my love

Makes sure not to include anything in his letters that would worry you. Doesn’t necessarily lie or fake being happy, but just gently side steps that.

Although every once in a while you get a longer letter where Dick’s handwriting is a little messier. You know it’s from writing fast, you can almost feel the pressure behind the penmarks. He opens up more in those letters, talks about losing too many good men and sometimes will say things that just absolutely break your heart, like sometimes I wonder how all of this is really going to end for the men who are over here fighting.

Even in these letters, Dick never says “I” or “Me”, always writes about the men and the boys. You know - and so does he - that he’s including himself in those boys.

His next letter he always makes sure to reassure you. And it’s genuine, you can tell. He’ll say something like I have to put some of these heavier thoughts somewhere, and there’s nowhere I trust more than with you.

When he comes home, you find a stack of letters you wrote to him tied up in a neat bundle and stashed in an inside pocket of his Ike jacket that he sewed in especially for that purpose. You could tell by the flimsy, near-ripped creases and dirty paper that he’d read each one about a hundred times over. Buried in the middle of the stack was the picture you’d given him before he’d left for training. On the back, he’d written simply your name, the date the photo was taken, and a short instruction: in event of my death, please send all personal effects to with your home address. It made you sob but you never told him you found it.

GIF by mads-weasley

Lewis Nixon

Rarely writes. Actually drives you crazy with worry most of the time.

When he finally does, you can tell that he’s initially annoyed at having to put his thoughts down on paper. Letters start off with short, sarcastic sentences like nothing new here. Still fighting the war, in case you hadn’t heard. Enjoying German hospitality.

But as the letters go on he relaxes into it and stops being so grouchy.

Because he’s always grumpy at having to write (you should probably thank Dick for cajoling Lew into actually sitting down to write to you), he usually doesn’t write any sort of introduction or sweet address, just dives right into it.

His letters usually don’t say much, he just kind of rambles about how much he hates being away from you and how he can’t wait for the whole damn thing to be over.

Sometimes he’ll write something so incredibly romantic it takes your breath away, like I’d fight a whole division of Panzers myself if I could just get one more sniff of your perfume.

Those are the letters you save and reread to yourself over and over again when you’re waiting weeks for the next one.

Always signs off with something kind of sassy but also sweet?, like You know I love you or Keep our bed warm for me.

Sometimes you feel like you can smell whiskey on the paper, which both worries you but also reminds you of Lew

When he finally gets home and you ask him about what he did with your letters, he kind of looks at you like you’ve gone crazy and says I read them of course, what else was I supposed to do with them?

This hurts your feelings at first which of course he doesn’t understand, but after a few weeks you start to realize that he actually did read them and not only that he memorized their contents. Like he refers to your mother as “the Wicked Witch of Wichita” (something you called here after you wrote him a long rambling letter about how angry she made you at your sister’s bridal shower) and buys you a bouquet of daffodils because you wrote him a letter with a daffodil doodle in the margins of the page talking about the spring gardens.

You realize that Lew shows his love in the little details, and it makes you appreciate him all the more.

GIF by beautifulguycollector

Ronald Speirs

Ron’s letters read like military bulletins.

Doing well despite the cold. 1st sgt sick with pneumonia. Think of you often.

Writes predictably once per week. Never misses a letter. Ever.

You always write him long, lengthy, romantic letters. Sometimes even a little raunchy, if you’ve had some wine. After one particularly *ahem* suggestive letter, you feel ridiculous and say so the next time you write.

In typical Ron fashion, you get a short, to-the-point reply, but it still puts a smile on your face and a blush on your cheeks: Loved your letter. Keep writing.

Towards the end of the war, Ron starts a countdown to when he expects to be coming home. Two months now, maybe less. Home for the Fourth of July.

Also signs off with R.S. Which makes you laugh, as if you could forget who was writing to you.

Whenever your girlfriends find a letter from Ron (you keep them all in a shoebox in your closet), they tease you and ask how you can possibly be in love with someone so stiff and formal. To which you can only chuckle to yourself, because you know it’s just that they don’t understand that Ron doesn’t tell you he loves you, he shows you. Writing a letter every single week. Updating you on everything going on, even short updates, because he wants you to know how he’s doing. That’s Ronald Speirs’ love language.

Maybe three weeks before Ron comes home, you start getting boxes of (stolen?) German silver at your door. At first it freaks you out and makes you feel slimy for having lavish riches from an enemy country, so you don’t unpack the boxes and you just stack them up in the back bedroom. When Ron gets home and sees the boxes unopened and shut away, he immediately asks you what’s wrong. You stammer out an explanation and without blinking an eye, Ron loads them into his truck and takes them to the dump.

(Later you convince him that a better use of those would be to donate them to the local orphanage, so off he goes in his truck to get the boxes back out of the dump and bring them to shelter.)

One night when you’re lying awake, head on Ron’s chest, talking idly about things that don’t matter, he interrupts you to ask Can you guess which letter I kept?

You instantly blush, thinking of that risque letter you wrote him when you were halfway through your second bottle of white wine. He shakes his head and pulls a letter out of his nightstand and hands it to you. You don’t recognize it immediately, although you do see that it’s too short to be one of the naughtier correspondences.

It’s too dark to read, so you ask him which letter. He says it’s the one you wrote to me for my birthday.

You don’t remember that one and you tell him as much, so you ask him why he kept that one instead of some of the others. He looks down at you with a serious look in his eyes, a little surprised that you can’t figure it out. Then he tells you: it’s the first time you wrote that you loved me.

The next day, you sneak a peek at the letter and realize he’s right. You signed it, I love you Ron.

From then on, you make sure to tell him that every night before he falls asleep.

Carwood Lipton

Formal, sweet letters. This man is a king of romancing by words.

Writes as often as he can, but you know that Lip needs peace and quiet for an entire evening to get one of those letters done (he probably definitely writes a draft or two before he gets it right). And let’s face it, Easy Company doesn’t have the luxury of many quiet evenings.

Always, always, always starts his letters off with Dear (future) Mrs. Lipton, which you honestly think is hopelessly corny but it’s way too adorable to tell him so. And besides, you secretly love it.

He always reminisces about home in his letters. Tells you how much he misses the smell of your baking, the squeak of the front porch swing that you two would sit on and watch the sunset.

He worries a lot about you and his family. He always asks you to look in on his mother if it’s not too much trouble.

Lip doesn’t talk much about the war, in fact he hardly acknowledges it at all. And he never uses the term ‘war’ or ‘battle’. Instead, he says things like The boys over here are still committed to doing the job or Easy presses on.

Lip’s letters get a little shorter and less soft after Bastogne. He starts including the names of the casualties in his company in the P.S. Even though you don’t know these men except by name - and some of them, not even that - you feel honored that he trusts you with their memories.

Lip has saved your letters and all the pictures you sent to him - he loves pictures, and asks for an updated one of you almost every month - tucked in his foot locker and safely between the pages of his Bible so they don’t get creased or dirty.

You also find that he’s kept stacks of letters from some of his men that died in the field. When you ask him what he plans to do with the letters, he gets a heartbreaking, far-off look in his eyes and says I reckon I’ll try to get them back to their families.

You take on the burden of doing that, and you write to some of the families introducing yourself and introducing Lip and offering to forward them the letters.

All the replies you get back mention that their soldier talked about how good a leader and friend Lip was. Their replies bring tears to your eyes. For some reason, you don’t show the letters to Lip, although you do tell him about them. He never asks to read the letters, he just kisses you on your forehead and tells you that he’s never loved you more.

Even after he’s home, he’ll still write you a letter from time to time, usually at Christmastime or for your birthday in the summer. His letters are always talking about his favorite memories with you, and there’s always a paragraph at the end where he talks about how in love with you he is. It’s borderline poetry and it makes you cry every single time.

GIF by balladofthe101st

Buck Compton

Basically just writes a list of questions for you to answer in every letter.

Wants to know everything about what’s going on at home. Especially sports teams.

Doesn’t write frequently, so sometimes it’s hard to feel like there’s a conversation happening.

But he always includes sweet little notes about how much he’s thinking of you and how he’s counting down the days until he can hold you again, so you’re not complaining.

Not the most poetic writer. Always says what he thinks and feels though. Completely honest and open.

Does not tell you anything about the war. Basically ignores the entire thing.

Sometimes you think about asking him about that, but you figure that he’s not talking about it for a reason, so you follow suit.

Calls you baby in his letters.

Doesn’t actually say ‘I love you’ in his letters, although says everything else. Miss you baby. Dream about you all the time. When I get home, I’m putting a ring on your finger.

One time he writes that he woke up last night out of a dream and swore I could taste you and it makes your toes curl.

You save that letter, tuck it in your underwear drawer.

Signs his letters very simply: Buck. Sometimes he’ll put something in like until next time or I’ll write soon. But usually nothing super romantic or sentimental.

Doesn’t save your letters, but that really doesn’t bother you too much because all you wrote in them was basically just rambling details that Buck requested about your boring day-to-day.

Buck’s always better in person than in writing - he’s a quality time and physical touch kind of guy - but you know that your letters were his only lifeline to normal during the war, and you’re just happy to have him back at all.

He does surprise you one night when it’s really quiet in the house and you’re sitting on the couch together, each reading a book. He suddenly turns to you and says You know baby girl, your letters saved my sanity over there. It’s the most he’s really ever said about the war, but it’s enough, and you kiss him so he knows that you get it.

GIF by balladofthe101st

David Webster

Unsurprisingly, Web is probably the best letter writer in all of Easy Company.

He helps a lot of the other guys write letters home, especially if they’re trying to say something important. Web just has a knack for words unlike any other.

He writes a lot of letters home, not just to you, but to the rest of his family, his siblings, some of his friends, and definitely his professors.

So because you’re close with Web’s family, you do get to read a lot of his writing.

His letters to you are different though. They’re darker and a little less polished. Sometimes, they frighten you a little bit. Web talks about things you’re not you really understand - like how pointless death is, how empty it makes him feel to see his friends get KIA, how he carries around guilt about surviving this long like an anchor.

Refers to you exclusively in his letters by your first name, his writing is always serious and somber and drenched with heavy emotions, so pet names just really don’t fit the vibe.

He quotes poetry and literature quite a bit when he writes. It all feels a bit Gothic, but you’ve always known that Web has found clarity in the world through books, so you don’t begrudge him a little poetic license.

Signs his letters Yours in perpetuity, David K. Webster.

Asks you to send books. Sometimes he asks for something specific, but other times he’s happy to get whatever you pick out for him. Your tastes are different from his; you prefer to choose shorter, gentle pieces about life in the British countryside or Western adventure novels. Web would prefer Wadsworth or Hemingway, but he figures it’s probably in his best interests to read things that don’t tackle dark themes. You always tuck a letter for him into the first few pages.

He doesn’t save your letters, per se, although he does save every single book you send to him. When he gets home, he puts them all up on the bookshelf in his office. Even though they’re beat up and stained and not at all fitting with the rest of his collection, they’re front and center.

Sometimes he takes a stab at sketching in his letters. He’s not bad, either. You try to encourage him to take lessons when he gets home, which he never does. He secretly loves how much you love his drawings though.

GIF by yourspeirs

Joe Liebgott

KING OF DIRTY LETTERS

You definitely like to re-read his letters… again and again…

Not every letter is a dirty one. But most are. Or at least have a dirty section in them.

You don’t know how this man makes you feel wanted from halfway around the world, but somehow he does. Lord knows you love a lot about your Joey, but you didn’t realize how good he was with words until you found yourself practically stalking the mailman, hoping for another delivery from Joe.

Uses a lot of pet names in his letters. Baby girl, Doll, Princess are some of his favorites. Literally never calls you by your name.

Always signs off with Your Joey.

Even when Joe is clearly in a dark place, his letters are saturated with how much he needs you and how he can’t stop thinking about all the ways he’s going to have you when he gets home.

When your mother finds one of Joey’s letters to you, she throws an absolute shit fit and freaks out that you’re sleeping with someone before you’re married. It takes a long time for you to convince her that you haven’t slept with Joey yet, you’re just… really into dirty talking.

She kinda chills after that but still looks at you suspiciously every time you get a letter from him.

She never tells your dad though, which makes you think maybe she’s more supportive of your relationship with him than you realized.

After working up the courage, you write Joe a letter that is so sinful you actually doubt whether you should send it in the mail, it just feels so wrong.

When I say this man goes crazy for that letter, it is an understatement. He is out of his mind and immediately writes you a reply telling you so. Basically begs you for more.

Even though your letters back and forth with Joe are pretty raunchy, there’s also a sweetness to them. He’s always sure to mention that This ain’t just all talk, Doll. When you’re Mrs. Liebgott, you’re gonna see exactly what I’ve been writing about. Which you know is still pretty dirty, but hey, he’s basically proposing to you, right?

You are not the least bit surprised to know that he kept your naughtiest letters when he finally gets home.

But, Joseph Liebgott is a man of his word, and even though he is clearly dying to and you’re practically begging him to, he doesn’t make good on all those dirty promises until after you’re wearing his ring.

Much to your delight, you find that he is just as good with actions as he is with words.

#band of brothers imagine #band of brothers headcanon #dick winters x reader #lewis nixon x reader #ronald speirs x reader #buck compton x reader #carwood lipton x reader #david webster x reader #joe liegbott x reader

132 notes · View notes

gallusrostromegalus · 1 year ago

Note

So how much are you willing to talk about Ulquiorra?

I will talk so much about him. There are so many things wrong with that man, but to make a brief list of his most notable features:

He's dumb as hell.

I say that with tremendous sympathetic affection. Ulquiorra barely thinks. It's easy for him to do nothing and go nowhere. He eats chocolate in the middle of the night in the dark. When he gets access to a garden, he often just stands around in it. He's often waiting for things to happen.

He just LOOKS smart compared to nearly everyone else in the fic because he doesn't have much to say, so he's not constantly opening his mouth to jam his foot down it.

Consequently, Ulquiorra starts off having little to no initiative of his own. Stuff just happens to him. Some of that is because he is colossally depressed, but he's depressed because the idea that he has control over his circumstances has straight up not occured to him.

The first person he meets that shows him that "You can just do whatever you want, forever" and the boundless joy it is to be a creature of free will is, unfortunately, Aizen. And Aizen left off the key corollary "-EVERYONE is allowed to do whatever they want, forever. We are all equal in God's dead, empty eye sockets."

So Ulquiorra wanders around trying out this "doing stuff" thing without any concept of ethics.

I realize I am infantilizing this character, but I am doing so in a twilight zone "hey, wouldn't it be fucked up to watch a fully anatomically functional person who is able to speak and blow stuff up with his mind go through the emotional development steps of a toddler?", because I think that's a fun high-concept premise to explore with him. Yeah, what if a toddler could speak articulately and also destroy you? How would he act? How does he feel, learning to have feelings?

It'd probably suck for him and everyone around him, and make him very easy to manipulate, for one thing.

So I don't think Ulquiorra is evil, because evil takes intent. He is dangerous to be in the general proximity of, though

Like a horse

lose

in a hospital!

I love that sketch as much as the next person but if an IRL horse got loose in a hospital it would be bedlam, but the horse would be mostly confused and probably willing to follow around the first person who looked like they knew what they were doing.

You know, like how Ulquiorra follows Aizen around because that's the first guy he's met who THINKS he knows what he's doing, and is good at convincing others he knows what he's doing!

So Ulquiorra's entire first character arc is being exposed to more and more people and realizing he does have control over his life, and that he can take actions, and that those actions have consequences.

Like being emotionally devastated by a teenage girl because he was an asshole to her and she's willing to scream at him about it.

Hm.

Consequences hurt.

He lives through the Las Noches arc, and decides to follow his own star!

He follows it right through a portal that was not meant for him and now he's sort of trapped in somewhere he's really, really, really, really, REALLY not supposed to be.

But it's a beautiful place

And nobody is forcing him to do anything.

And for a long time, he just stands out in the garden, waiting for something.

But then

Ulquiorra experiences a novel pair of emotions that he's recently learned from his new...

Orihime is too mad at him for him to call her a friend.

-but he did learn the names and therefore the experience of two new emotions from her: boredom, and it's natural remedy: curiosity.

So Ulquiorra's second character arc is him learning how to be himself without anyone telling him who he is and what he ought to be.

He's travelling up Maslow's hierarchy with the inscrutable but unstoppable instinctual drive of a salmon returning to its spawning ground.

This has lead to an important discovery on my part: Ulquiorra is terrific for comedy because he is the ULTIMATE straight man to everyone else's nonsense, because he's immune to nearly all nonsense.

He doesn't have societal taboos to be hung up on, nor any sense of what is "normal", so the sole thing he geta hung up on is a lack of internal consistency in others, meaning he can slip between straight man to the absurdist at the drop of a single scathing observation. Yet, he retains a sort of understated dignity that compels people to try to earn his respect.

Hence, I'm having fun turning him loose on the most absurd, internally inconsistent and frankly, insane batch of characters in the series:

The Royal Guard.

#AEIWAM #An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy #bleach #bleach fanfic #ulquiorra cifer #Ulquiorra #mild spoilers

482 notes · View notes

anundyingfidelity · 11 months ago

Text

NO SECOND CHANCES — Brother Day/Cleon XVII

Summary: A lonely space traveler happens to save from a certain death the most annoying person of the entire galaxy, the Emperor.

Pairing: Cleon XVII x female reader.

Word count: 8.1k. (oooops).

Warnings: well, spoilers for whole season 2. Language, angst (the reader wants to die, really). Talks about suicide, talks about suicide attempts, reader having nightmares, PTSD, reader is suffering too. Some hurt/comfort, some fluff? Filthy smut (included but not limited to hand jobs, unprotected sex, oral from both parts, dirty language, etc. etc.), and end of the world sex (to Beki's arsehole bitches yay🥂). Also Cleon refers to the reader as "woman" a couple of times lol. Reader has pierced ears? (wait for it). Bittersweet ending tbh.

Notes: just trying to make slow burn in a one shot because I'm a lazy fucker who doesn't like to write stories with chapters, otherwise I don't finish shit. Uh probably OOC Cleon??? I don't know. Fully inspired by my favorite trope ever: saving the bad guy and making him humble. I don't care we're four people watching Foundation, I need to write about this little piece of shit I love him so much. Cleon XVII is a himbo I said it. Not beta, we die like bitches of the Gossamer court.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

Tagging: @curiouswildi hope you like it 🥺💘

GEN MASTERLIST!

I. BEYOND

The last thing wandering his mind was Bel Riose. Fucking Bel Riose. That idiot. They had won over him; over him, who was Empire and still meant to be for years ahead. Next, the cold feeling of space was embracing him. But he felt he was not floating around anymore.

Cleon was tied to a surface. It felt like harsh, uncomfortable metal under his back. He slowly forced his eyes open, moving his limbs and trying to escape whatever it was restraining him to do so. His wrists and ankles, as his waist, were tied by a light blue particle field preventing the patient to move at all. He was met with the roof of a ship and equipment, but it wasn't any Imperial one. In panic, he moved until he was able to shake the surface he was on, panting and grunting, feeling some pain and sting resurging all over him. The headache was becoming unbearable and the sounds coming from his dry mouth finally transformed into screams. The room doors opened and a strange voice catched his attention.

"Finally, you're awake."

Cleon obliged to follow the shadow moving around, his eyes focusing to try and see who was talking. He heard steps and the sounds of metal and glass clinking around, probably looking for medication and tools as he was know fully concius. The figure finally came to view by his side.

"I will inject this, so don't move," you said, grabbing his bicep. Cleon was about to protest, but the needle was faster and the medicine was welcomed on his vurnerable system, easing the pain and calming down the headache. "Welcome back, Eminence," you smirked to him.

"And just so, who are you?" he asked chuckling to himself, licking his lips. "What have you done to me?"

"First, I saved your life and cleaned all your bloody wounds. You should say thanks at least," you sat down dangerously close by his side, on the same surface he was on.

"I did not ask you for mercy."

"Oh, but I did," you replied, a smirk on your lips. "Perhaps I shouldn't have, right?" you took a small pencil-like device in your hand from the pocket of your pants and used it to scan his vital signs. You touched his face carefully with your fingers, examining his eyes, his heartbeat, and any anomaly that might be on his system from head to toe, but the scanner found none. Cleon watched you doing so until he asked again, his voice softer this time.

"Who are you?"

"Just no one as important as you are," you said, saving the scanner back.

"Where are we?" Cleon asked, looking around. He observed he was placed in a small medical bay.

"In space, in the middle of nowhere I suppose," you shrugged, getting on your feet again. "It seems you're recovering quite well and fast. At least that's what my scanner says. So first, I think you should want some water, which I am leaving right here," you put a flask on the small table next to him. "And before I give you this to drink, I want to make sure you will not restrain or fight back at me."

He laughed, that narcissistic smile on his face. You wanted to punch him.

"You're no match for me, woman."

"Really? Then I could just throw you out there again, you know, it's not difficult. I'm spending resources on you, surely I won't oppose to that idea," you snapped back.

His smile faded slowly, thinking. If it wasn't for you, he would be dead by now, it was true. But he was so used to be immortal and undefeteable that the situation was kind of new. He only had been vulnerable and exposed to his doctors in the palace, and you were a complete stranger. And still, you had the heart to take him in your ship and save his life. He sighed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

"Fuck, fine. What do you want me to do?"

So this was his way of cooperating, you thought.

"After I turn off the restraints, you will have to sit down on the stretcher. I will help you. Do not try to get up yet, you might feel dizzy."

With a nod he said to you the orders were clear. Next, the restraints disappeared in the air with a push on a button and Cleon felt a small relief. As you promised, you helped him to sit and he realized that the clothes he had before were replaced with a set of new pale grey robes that allowed him to move freely. You offered the flask to his lips, but he watched you with a questioning look on his face.

"Is only water, I swear. See?" you had a small sip from the bottle and he looked more at ease after you swallowed the liquid.

You offered the bottle again and helped him to slowly drink. Once he was done, you placed a small tray with fruits and dry seeds on top of the same table beside the stretcher.

"You might want to eat something," you said, breaking the silence under his fixed gaze. Even when he was sitting down and you on your feet it felt rather intimidating. "I'm still collecting supplies and food. You were certainly not part of the plan these days."

"So you travel alone," Cleon said, taking a small red fruit between his fingers and began to eat it.

"I do," you nodded. "Sorry if the taste of the fruit is not pleasant."

"You're doing your best," he said while eating, studying the room around him. You were not sure if he was mocking you or not. "What was your name again?"

You chuckled. "You're very interesting, Empire. Why don't you finish eating and rest before taking a bath?"

The next few hours, you left him to rest and escorted him to your quaters, the only place with a comfortable bed, so he could get proper sleep. Since there were no further questions from him, you got to your business and requested more provisions to the merchants. Traveling alone had made you some contacts and traders, from time to time you would request for food giving in exchange money or rare knick knacks, and within a day you had a small capsule with supplements heading to your coordinates with everything you needed. You just had to wait for now.

After checking the estate of your ship and confirming everything was working correctly, you went back to your quaters to see how the Emperor was doing. You were startled to see him sitting on your bed with a book between his hands. He looked like he just had a bath because his shirt was gone and his hair was wet, some droplets running down his skin. Quickly, you studied him. He was handsome, muscular, his skin had a beautiful tan, and he was tall and heavy as hell, something you noticed when cleaning his wounds and taking him inside your ship. The earring on his left ear was also interesting, you thought, for a member of the most important dinasty of the galaxy. Very rebellious for the emperor.

You also knew he heard you steping in but never looked up from the book because he was the first one to talk.

"Never I could imagine you would have books in here," he said, clearly interested on the pages.

"Yeah, not all of us are barbarians as you work so hard to convice yourself we are."

He chuckled to himself, looking at you for the first time since you entered the room.

"Are you from Korell?"

"The book gave it away, didn't it."

"This is very old," he said, closing the book. "You are for sure not allowed to have this in Korell."

"That is one of the reasons I left," you replied, looking around the place. It was obvious to you that he was pearing within your personal stuff because the old myth book was secured down your mattress. At least he didn't leave a mess and everything seemed in the right place. "I was a threat in my planet so Argo kept looking for me for some conspiracy shit and terrorism when all I did was oppose myself to his repression and freakshow," you continued, his eyes drew back to you. "They wanted me dead in Korell, but I am the only one to decide that, even when and where will it happen."

Cleon shifted on his seat, wondering why you were sharing a piece of your life to him when he didn't even know your name yet. Words and thoughts wandered his head on how would he answer to your words, compassion or empathy sometimes were difficult things to feel. But before he was able to speak, you interrupted his thoughts.

"I will leave you alone to rest for a while and will come back when it's around supper. I follow Kornell cycle of time, so you know... Just don't poke around my underwear, Empire," you dragged his title mockingly.

He laughed softly, going back to his reading.

"Thank you for the idea."

That was the first time you would hear him expressing gratitude.

II. GHOSTS FROM THE PAST

Around more than a week passed, and Cleon was healing and his wounds were not so visible now. You made sure to inject him every day and gave your quaters and bed for him to sleep and recover. He had took a pad you had in the room so he could count the cycle of days in Trantor. Hardly to admit, he found himself missing home rather than hatred. Sometimes the rage mixed with sorrow, but he forced himself to try and understand that it was a normal feeling due to the sudden lose of everything he once had.

Cleon had been up from some time now as he counted the end of the eighth day on the pad, and wondered why your daily visit was taking so long. It was a habit you had, to come in and wake him up with the medicine, and after it was done, you would tell him to eat some of the fruits and food on the tray you brought for him. He got on his feet and put a shirt on before leaving the room to search for you. On the pilot cabin, you had an improvised, small stickable mattress on the wall that had saved your life before, so you used it to sleep and rest the past few days while he cured. Cleon observed your figure lying down on the mattress, walking slowly and sensing something was not right. He found you shaking and trembling, eyes still closed and chest heavily breathing as your hand held onto dear life what he realised it was a gun.

He felt somehow frightened and confused. If you wanted to kill him, you would already have done it. You had made yourself clear on that. The tremor of your body seemed it was increasing and Cleon, with a gentless he did not know he possesed, tried to soothe you with his voice, removing the gun from your embrace.

"Shh... everything is fine," he mumbled, not sure of his words, his other hand touching your shoulder in soft circles. He was able to withdraw the gun from your hands and placed it on the floating shelf near by.

Your eyes squeezed and some tears flowed down your face as you sobbed still in your sleep. Cleon hesitated on what to do next to wake you up. He leaned again, his hand slowly tracing the skin of your arm, like he did when his brother Dawn was a child.

"Woman? Wake up," he whispered, shaking you a little bit and pating your arm softly, and when he talked again, his voice was a little bit louder. "You're having a nightmare, wake up."

And as he repeated his words over and over, your eyes opened wide, feeling your lungs able to breath again. But your senses still were coming to awareness, and automatically you slapped the face of whoever it was touching your arm. You heard him groan in pain and you rolled over the mattres, until you hit the floor, taking out a small blade from below the makeshift pillow of fabrics you used. The blade pointing at him as you looked around the cabin to find out it was only both of you.

"What- are you okay?!" Cleon questioned with a frown, rubbing his hurting cheek as he remained on the other side of your bed, the only thing separating you from him was the mattress.

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine!"

He rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Of course you are not."

"Then why the fuck would you ask that?! It's obvious I'm not fine!" you yelled. Your body was tense and ready to attack. You felt a knot on your throat, like if you were to cry again. Silence envolved you, trying to calm down. That inner voice in your head began saying it was just a dream, and you wanted to believe it. It was all in your head. It was not real...

"Do you want to kill me?" Cleon's gloomy voice echoed.

"What? No! I would never-"

"Then why are you sleeping with a damn blaster shot and a blade on your bed?!" he confronted, screaming at you, but not daring to move as you also remained standing in the same place.

"Because I wanted to kill myself!" you yelled back, pointing the sharp of the knife to you instead. His face became stern and you realised what you had said, and what was happening. Ashamed, you threw the blade back under the pillow. "Sorry, I don't want you to know that. Forget it."

You wiped the tears on your face under his piercing and concerning eyes. You forced your head to compose and burry your nightmares and memories deep inside before talking.

"I have to inject you," you said and walked back to the room, sure he would follow behind. Once you crossed the doors, you prepared the needle but Cleon remained standing near the exit of your room the whole time, arms crossed over his chest, observing you with utter worry on his face. Why? He really did not know. Probably because you were the only human and intelligent contact he had for days now, and you had the decency to keep him alive. Though he was not going to let that in his head - yet.

"Why don't you seat?" you most likely ordered. Cleon slowly made his way to you and remained standing, tall and kind of threatening. He was Emperor, after all.

"What is wrong with you?" he asked with a careful tone.

"Nothing, Empire. Just sit," you said, coldly, waiting for him to do as you requested.

"No, I need to know," he demanded, coming closer to you, jaw clenching. Anger started taking over your being and held his gaze as you replied.

"I have the right to decide whether or not speak about my personal life, I am not one of your subjects, so sit the fuck down so I can give you the last dosis of this shit."

"I need to know if I can fucking trust you after what I just heard coming from your mouth," his voice boomed around the place.

"You really want to know?! Fine, back in Korell I lost my family, my brother, my parents, my home - everything I had they took it from me! I was the last one alive and I escaped after they killed my brother in front of me and that day is still haunting me," you muttered and felt the tears forming on your eyes, but this time, of rage. "So if it concerns your own well being, like it always has been, no, I will not kill you. But you are no Emperor here, so stop that game. Some of us never gave a fuck about you or the Empire, or the Foundation and Hari Seldon, or the Church of the Galactic Spirit -I don't care! I'm tired, I just want to be free and live peacefully!"

You had not noticed you stepped closer to him, feeling the heat radiating from his body. His face was blank, as if he had been slapped again, but this time to reality. A reality he was not familiar with on his own bubble.

Quickly you grabbed his bicep and injected the dosis with him standing up. He whined in surprise. It was fast. So fast that you just removed the needle from his flesh and left the room.

III. WHAT YOU REALLY KNOW

According to the Trantor cycle, evening should be now. When you left him alone in the room, Cleon spent the next hours by himself, and since he watched you looking up for garments and food around the ship before, he made sure to get those without speaking to you. Not that you wanted to talk either. He noticed you sitting on the main pilot seat, looking at the stars and the void through the glass the whole day. He got concerned for a moment, but decided to let you be as he, also, understood that some time alone was necessary.

However, Cleon thought to talk to you finally and say something. Anything to get you back to reality and forget your bad dreams. So he found himself making his way to sit on the other chair of the ship. He prepared the words to say inside his head, but it was more difficult to speak out loud.

"I think I owe you an apology," he finally said, taking in the view of space. You nodded slowly your head. Nobody turned to see each other.

"It's nothing. But apology accepted I guess."

"It's not nothing. I rarely thought about what other citizens and planets are going through... I'm so sorry it happened to you."

"I would like to say that was not your fault, but since the Empire withdrawal from Korell, living there definitely became so much worse," you confessed, very aware of the genetic dinasty and some of the things previous emperors did, which did not change much. They were the same man after all. Cloning again and again...

"Probably should apologise for that as well," he said.

"Yeah, it's too late, but thank you."

Cleon could still sense a feeling of resentment in your voice. He thought you were right to feel that way, but he was also going to try and make you understand him.

"I never had a mother, or a father, and my brothers are the same man as me, so it's hard to understand that some people lose their family and loved ones. I was born with that loss already... That's why I wanted to end the genetic dinasty."

"You are the eighteenth?" you asked, not knowing exactly why he was opening to you.

"The seventeenth."

"That's a lot of you though. Do you remember anything from the past?"

"I do not. But our memories are always saved. Everything that happens in Trantor is recorded and kept as data. If I want to know something about a previous Cleon, I would just request it."

You turned your gaze to finally see him, he looked in awe with space as he spoke.

"So what was your motive to destroy a planet?"

He turned his eyes to you. "I believe you didn't care about Empire or the Foundation."

"That doesn't mean I want to see a genocide, your Eminence."

Cleon stirred on his seat, with a strange feeling of guilt, sadness and regret. For some reason, the title falling off your lips made everything worse.

"You saw it," he said. "How? You're no part of the Foundation, at least you're lying to me."

"No, I am not! I did a stupid space jump without course and I ended here, unfortunately." You were growing tired of the conversation. "I don't know why we keep talking. We're both shitty people anyway."

Cleon chuckled, not to mock you, but because of the whole situation you were in together.

"I know you are. Brave enough to kill yourself, taking another life is nothing compared to your own."

You locked your gaze with his, thinking if he was he judging you or flattering you.

"And have you, like, tried to end with your life at some point? You must feel lonely, under the shadow of a clone, not allowing you to be, well, you."

He let out a deep breath, avoiding your eyes.

"I have not, but my genes are already compromised and adultered. No surprise if any of us dared to commit suicide before," he replied, looking to the void. "In any case, if something out of the ordinary is to happen to my brothers or myself, we have another clone with our same memories, same age, everything; prepared to be woken up and take our place. Like if we never existed."

"That's fucked up," you scoffed. "We are never trully free, are we."

You got on your feet to look up for something to eat and forget your small talk. You knew he had searched for fruits and dry food because you heard him moving around and then leaving a couple of times, but you had nothing through the whole day. Cleon followed your steps, leaving enough space between you both as you took a couple of apples, giving one to him.

"The jump, how did you do that?" he asked, taking a bite of the fruit. "You don't have spacers."

"The rebels are smart people. A lot of members of the Foundation replicated your technology."

"I thought you were not involved with them," he insisted.

"I am not, but I would never deny any help. That my support doesn't rely on them doesn't mean I will let a chance slide."

"You're not answering my question."

You pulled the sleeve of your shirt up to show your bare wrist to him. There was the same device Hober Mallow and the Clerics had, inserted on your skin.

"I use this.”

"This is a whisper ship," he mumbled.

"Smart. Yes, sort of."

Cleon scoffed. "So that means we can land somewhere."

"About that, uh, we can't."

He moved to throw the remainings of his fruit with a confused look. "Why?"

He heard your sigh as you covered your wrist again, looking away from his deep eyes.

"I- I threw myself to space because I wanted to kill myself," you started, avoiding his gaze. "I didn't care how long would take me, I just wanted to blow up my ship. Just end everything. But then I saw you, floating, dying... and for some reason I couldn't let you die. I didn't know who you were but I saved you. There's no energy or fuel to make another jump. I don't have that. We are far from what Terminus was now. From any planet, form of life or civilization... plus you are unarmed. You still are weak and anyone could kill you," you finished, and waiting for some reason that he could forgive you for giving him any sort of hope. "I'm sorry, Empire."

Beyond madness, Cleon felt you were worried for him. Not the kind of sentiment his brothers or palace workers would do, but a real one. Because you knew saving him was condemn him to death anyway. But this felt much better than dying alone. He had sins, past despiteful decisions and ghosts hunting him, as so were you. You just addressed your feelings and your life together in less than a day. And you were right, none of you were never trully free, but as crazy as it might be, being lost in space with you felt like freedom to him. Finally, he was far away from everything that was keeping chained to a life and responsibilities he never asked for, living under the shadow of an egotistical emperor.

There was a strong impulse growing inside him and before his rational voice began to scream it was a bad idea to continue, he had cupped your cheeks between his hands and his lips pressing hungrily against yours. You whined, surprised of the warm feeling of his mouth, his tongue hurriedly asking for permission to taste you. When oxygen was not enough you pulled away, shocked and panting. You barely noticed your hand around his forearm, recovering yourself from the best kiss you had in some time.

"Cleon," he whispered, kissing your lips one more time.

"What?"

"Just call me Cleon. I'm not Empire anymore."

You kissed him in response with the same eagerness he had before, heart beating strongly in your chest. His hands caressed every inch of your body, from your neck, breasts, your hips, your soft thighs, your ass... he touched you with desperate fire while you moaned against his mouth, liking where was this leading you, more than you wanted to admit.

That was the first time you gave in to him completely.

IV. TO LOVE AND TO BE LOVED

You moaned against his lips, those that forcefuly broke the heated kiss you shared as he ruts into you desperately to reach his own climax. His flesh hitting against yours made an obscene harmony that echoed the confines the ship, far from civil and coherent noises fell from his lips as he sucked into the skin of your neck.

"Fuck, yes, right there," a broken whimper escaped your throat, your nails scratching his back, your walls clenching around his cock. "Cleon..."

The sound of his name being moaned by your sweet, raspy voice, caused him to slow down his thrusts just a bit.

"I still don't know your name," he whispered, bitting your bottom lip only to kiss you wet again.

"And yet you're fucking me, isn't that enough?" you teased, rolling your hips to meet his own.

He gave you a smirk, that fucking handsome smirk you hated so much. He took you with his strong arms, flipping you around so he was now on his back and you got control on top of him. You sinked down his dick setting a reckless rhythm, his thrusts matching yours every time you went down, his grip hard on your waist, marking and bruising your skin. One of his hands massaged your bouncing breasts, one after the other, pinching and then, you felt his mouth biting your nipples and chest, as he leaned your body to him for easy access, with slow grunts and groans that didn't sound human anymore.

His cock repeatedly hit that sweet spot from the position you were taking him, increasing the tension inside you. The sensation of his hands coming back to your sides and making its way to your ass cheeks to guide your bouncing hips became too much so soon. You cried as you felt drunk and high, muscles tense as you finally came. Cleon held you tight, fucking into you as you reached sweet release. His tongue traveled down your collarbone and breasts.

"Cleon," you moaned, your hands on his chest to support your body better. You felt him twitch inside you, knowing he was dangerously close too. Quickly, you slid off him, taking his girth, slick with your own wetness, between your hand you pumped him hard, easing his own release. His seed coated your palm, sprinkling on his abdomen.

"Shit, you're great," he praised, voice dark from lust. His fingers tangled into your hair, his forehead against yours as you recovered from the intense sex session you had for the second time that day. He kissed you sweetly, like a sweetness he only had discovered in the short time with you. "I wish I could know your name."

"You can call me your savior," you gave him a playful smile.

After a shared lazy kiss, you got on your feet, legs still shaking, and left the bed to clean yourself in the small place you called bathroom right next to the only room of the ship. Once finished, you threw the cloth away, and looked directly the mirror, or poor attempt of it. In the damp glass, you watched Cleon appear to embrace your body against his, your back touching his chest muscles and his hands roamed your abdomen while he left butterfly kisses on your shoulder. His big arms around you, pressing your figure to his own, huge in comparison entrusting protection.

The nineteenth day it was, and you spent it exploring your pleassures, talking nonsense and overall for Cleon, thinking he might love you. The confinement had flourished different kinds of feelings and sentiments inside his heart. He finally learned to feel something else besides hatred, power, or selfishness. The more you spoke to him, the more he grew to like you. You were far from perfect and so was he, and the way you opened your heart to him - the man who was to wed a powerful queen, govern thrillions of people around the galaxy and kill a few others - caused him to feel unworthy of anything coming from you. The man he grew up to be slowly disappeared as long as you had him under your light and spirit; his old self was fading away. And it scared him, but excited him at the same time. Even when he was very aware you were near the end together, he had nothing to ask for but to perish with you.

"What's in your head?" you whispered.

Cleon had no longer been tasting the skin of your neck, his chin pressed on your shoulder instead with his mind running a million thoughts by now. He took a glance at the damp and dirty mirror of how perfect you looked, bare and exposed in body and soul, only for his eyes to witness the true beauty of being alive. Of being human.

"You."

A loving smile curled up on your lips, looking directly into his enamoured gaze through the mirror. He decided he wanted to remember you like this in the afterlife.

You finished marking the last spot with an 'x', a wide grin over your face.

"I won."

"Yet again," Cleon chuckled. His laugh had grew sincere with you as he settled on the floor on the cold floor of the pilot cabin, just giving enough space for the board between you and him. "And what is your question, person-I-not-know-the-name-of?"

You just had finished playing another round of a silly game. It was an old Terran game, and you were surprised it made it this far across the galaxy. It was good to pass the time though. It kept you and Cleon thinking about other things besides dying. The fuel and energy, along with the water, were lowering on their levels. Food on the other hand was not a worry, you knew you could request to the traders as long as energy was functioning to make communication with them. However, the energy of your ship had to be loaded in land, just like fuel. And you had no place to go now to do that.

Being together as long as you had the resources was the main goal now. So many things crossed your mind as you talked about everything and nothing at the same time the past days.

"Have you ever been in love?" you asked after some time thinking.

You thought maybe it was the first time in Cleon's life that he was finally able to think and behave on his own, with no burdens about a dinasty to protect or pleasing his council.

He was taken by surprise as you spoke. He immediately remembered Demerzel, his loyal advisor. His relationship was merely sexual, but there were no feelings that would assimilate to what love is in reality. For sure, his own clone should have been woken up by now with no further consequences. For Cleon, it felt like he was actually erased from existence forever. He was disposable, just like his brothers. But thinking about your question, his answer was no. He never knew what love was. Not from Demerzel, certainly not from Dusk, Dawn was slightly different though, he did love Dawn but not the way you were referring to. He never knew the love from a mother or a father, nor family. Sareth hated him, so even if they got to marry he knew there would be no space for such sentiment. His own future children with the Queen of Cloud Dominion would have grown up without an essential part of being human.

"No," Cleon finally gave an answer, his gaze went soft as he realised what you just became to him in a matter of days. "However I sense something different when I am with you. And I don't recall to know what that is."

You smiled. "Isolation tends to create adjustments in those who suffer it."

"And have you?" Cleon asked back. "Have you ever felt it before?"

"I did... With my parents, my brother, my best friends, and a couple of assholes who broke my heart."

He chuckled, admiring the charm you had to brush off the hardships in your life. You smiled back at him. Gods you loved seeing him like this, like if he was happy and nothing had happened.

"And how is it?" he said.

"It's affection, it's addictive, not everyone can escape from it. You feel like you belong somewhere, that your life is strangely complete," you mumbled, locking your gaze with his own. "And it hurts a lot. But as you go through that path, you get to know the most beautiful kind of pain."

"Does it hurt now?"

You swallowed hard, that familiar knot on your throat. You were not expecting to feel this way. Not for the Emperor, not for the clone, not for Cleon. Yet one does not control love. You don't decide to love someone without a reason. And what else could two lost souls do in the middle of the galaxy with no purpose but to wait and die? You had opened your deepest fears and secrets to him, not expecting Cleon doing exactly the same. He trusted you and you trusted him. You slept in the same bed, ate the same food and fruits, fucked like animals everyday and yet there was an emotional connection in between you thought would never know again after so many years. How could you not fall for him when everything was crumbling? Finally, you nodded your head, feeling the tears burning in your eyes.

"I always have been alone, Cleon, but my soul seems to have a little love to give. In the end, love is what makes us human."

Cleon put the board of the game away and leaned closer to you, his hand caressed your cheek, cleaning the tears falling down your face as he pressed his forehead with yours. He kissed you softly, swallowing your pain, as a way to say he was hurting too.

V. VOYAGE

It was the thirtieth day on the ship.

Your last try to get and land in any planet failed. As much as Cleon told you to stop, that everything was fine, you felt you had to keep trying until your last day. But the ship was basically to zero fuel and soon energy will follow. You used the control panel of the ship, hopefuly to find a near by land, but luck was not on your side. There was nothing. You don't know exactly how many miles you traveled with no course for a month. It was getting beyond bearing.

Frustrated, you pulled away the holo of the map and the calculations you did in the air, throwing a lose screw of your seat directly to the glass. It did nothing, but you were starting to hate the view of the stars and nothingness sorrounding.

"I told you to stop that," you listened to Cleon, who seemed just arrived to the pilot cabin.

"I had to try," you stood up, walking towards him. Your arms embraced his waist and he took you in with the same warmth.

"You're worried."

"I am not," you whined. "I should have sent for help with the merchants."

Cleon broke your hug and cupped your face between his hands, leaning closer to you.

"No, we should end this now," he whispered, his brows furrowed.

"No!"

"Why not? You wanted to do it even before you found me."

"Because now ending me is ending you too!"

Cleon felt your pain, but there was no other option to make than to blow up the ship anyway. Even if you were to land somewhere, what was for him? You were not able to go back home, and Cleon was discarded at this point. The throne could not have two of the same in the middle. Hiding and running away sounded like a good choice, but still, where? There was nothing left, but he found comfort with you.

"I am okay with this," he said. "I told you. You have to do it."

"Cleon-" you plea was cut by his voice.

"How much time do we have?"

"I don't know, a couple of days at last."

"Then do it. You said you were to decide when and how you would die, this is the time," he remembered with a stern voice. "Take it."

You let out a shaky breath and pushed him to press your lips to his own, like saying goodbye. But you still would not accept this fate. Not like this. You kissed him with hunger and need, your tongues tangled up as your mouths danced together.

"I just have- I can't yet," you mumbled once the kiss was over, leaving you both seeking for air. "Can we just fuck each others brains again and pretend none of this happened for a moment?" you asked against his lips, your hand now on his cheek, caressing the stubble on his face. You always remembered to help him shave and that was one of the most normal things you had to do since you found yourself confined with him. The most casual and mundane things to do became

He nodded. "Yes, my love.”

Cleon kissed your lips with the same hunger and desire, his hands caressing every inch of you until he lifted you up, your legs quickly went around his waist. With eyes closed, you let him guide you to the bar fixed against the wall of your ship.

He made sure to throw everything that was on the surface to the ground to place you in there. Once you were sitting, he pulled your legs apart to stand in the middle of them, and full with lust, his lips and teeth marked your neck and collarbone. You moaned sweetly, palming his groin still covered with the fabric of his pants. He traveled down your breasts, kissing over your shirt until he took it off. He was lucky you decided not to wear bra anymore. He sucked on your tits and nipples, grinding his hips against your hand.

You tried to pull his pants away, but he finished the job first, pulling away from your chest. After his pants were discarded, his shirt followed. He also got used to no underwear so he stood exposed all for you. A true god he was, looking perfect and like if every inch of his body was created for you to worship completely.

Cleon hurried in getting you out of your clothes, and in minutes you were naked and feeling his tongue dancing on your belly. His fingers and massive hands teasing your thighs, avoiding the place where you needed them the most. You moaned when he finally used a single digit to rub your slit, collecting your wetness. He rubbed your clit, mouth going slow and dangerously close to your pussy.

You laid your back on the bar and Cleon grabbed your thighs to have you exactly at the edge of the surface, ready to eat from your heat.

"Cleon," you cried out his name, your fingers tangled on his hair as his tongue licked your most sensitive parts.

He kept your hips in place, fucking you with his tongue and licking your folds, going to your clit. You couldn't help but whimper and moan, removing his hair to see just how much he yearned your cunt.

You tried to roll your hips but his grip was too strong. He looked up to lock his dark gaze with you, his humming creating strong vibrations down your core. He played some more, using a finger to tease your entrance. You were about to cum just by watching him.

"Cleon, please-" you gasped when he inserted a finger inside you, thrusting slowly. "Please, I want to taste you too."

He stopped, looking your flushed face for a moment. Your eyes were begging to suck him right now. He released your pussy with an obscene sound, pulling his tongue and hand away, but your wetness still shined on him. You got on the ground with his help and started to kneel down, kissing his skin, from his chest and then abdomen, licking and biting to leave your marks on his sculptured muscles. You made sure to adore and suck the skin of his navel, knowing he was insecure with not having a belly button. Still without it, he was more human than he could ever get to accept because you have seen that on him.

Cleon grunted once your hand wrapped around him, his hand on your scalp. You gave him a far from innocent look from your position before licking the head, rolling your tongue around it, lubing it with your saliva. His desperate groans led you to wrap your lips around him, pumping with your hand what you couldn't reach with your throat yet. You had to learn he was big for you, so a little of warm up for your mouth was a good start.

He cursed under his breath, thrusting his hips a little to go further, slowly, and you welcomed his cock with a small gag once he reached the back of your throat. He moaned darkly, your rubbed your thighs together when he started to fuck your mouth. Both his hands taking the sides of your head as you choked and gagged around his lenght. You felt him throbbing but he quickly pulled out, and left you empty and with drool falling from your lips, your pussy now aching and clenching around nothing.

"So beautiful," he purred, the touch on your scalp soft now. "But I want to finish inside you."

You nodded, obedient. Cleon helped you to sit down on the bar again, he stayed between your legs, spreading them wide, you held onto him, arms around his neck. He entered slowly, the warmth of your walls swallowing his cock, inch by inch, until it disappeared completely inside your dripping cunt.

You shivered, broken moans falling from your lips. Cleon muffled your low cries with kisses, waiting for you to get used to him.

"Fuck me, Cleon," you mumbled against his swollen lips.

He complied happily, thrusting and pounding into your heat, with a frenetic and brutal pace you had learn to love. You hid your face in the crook of his neck, yor nails scratching his arms and back. His cock touched all the right places inside you and he whispered sweet nothings into your skin, fucking you right under the light of the stars and the void of space.

He moaned along with you, wishing heaven or whatever it was after felt exactly like this. Like you, with your arms around him, your sweet voice calling his name lovingly and whimpering for more, giving your soul to him and only him. Your walls started to clench and his hips stuttered, aproaching a craving release. But in between, he heard a word against his ear you never mumbled before, turning his lustful eyes to you and slowing down his thrusts.

You repeated it again, he was visibly confused but kept ruting into you.

"My name," you said, fingers now caressing his hair.

He smiled. He knew it now. The stranger who saved him had a name after all. Cleon kissed you fiercely, repeating your name again and again between wet kisses. You were close to release, feeling one of his digits rubbing your clit as you moaned together. The wave of electricity took your body first, clenching your pussy around his cock. Cleon followed soon after, rhythm slow and tense muscles, until he spilled inside you, coating your sensitive cunt with his seed.

Catching your breath, you remained together. He sucked on your neck softly, your name was the only thought inside his mind. And as much as you loved his touch on you, you remembered there was something to do still.

"Cleon," you called, getting his attention and feeling he was pulling out of you with a low groan. He looked at you with loving eyes and you smiled. You brushed his hair with your fingers pulling him to yet another smooth kiss. "It's time."

He knew it was. In silence his fingers found his earring, twitsting it and pulling it apart. He took it from his ear and placed it on yours carefully. You were always amazed at his touch, how rough and yet soft and gentle he could be.

"So you can remember me," he smiled when he was over. You let out a laugh and curved your llps in a grin. "It suits you."

"Thanks, Cleon."

Cleon leaned down to kiss you one more time before cleaning both of you. You dressed together as if you were not about to meet finally death. For some reason, you saved everything that was not on their cabinets or initial positions, packing all you could, like if you could take those belongings with you, most of which were from your family. One day Cleon asked why you had clothes that could meet his height, being taller than a lot of people around. You told him it was from your best friend. You thought every piece of clothes or souvenirs would help someday, but it never crossed your mind that it was going to be this way.

When everything was was done, you and Cleon settled in front of the control panel, however, before you could start the holo, a loud explosion could be heard. You frowned, turning to Cleon.

"Did you-? Ah!"

The ship almost overturned as something heavy hit the side, making you trip and fall over with Cleon on the ground. Again, an explosion was heard, far from the ship but clear enough to say it was getting closer, and seconds later, the ship got hit but this time on the glass, almost breaking it over. Quickly, you both stood up and saw what was happening.

"A black hole..."

"Look, there are debris around," you pointed a huge piece that looked the size of your ship, but that definitely was part of a much bigger one. You saw the debris and metal being swallowed and destroyed by the black hole. It wasn't pacing fast, but wasn't slow either. It looked like it was talking its time for much bigger things to eat, such as your ship. Cleon called you, taking your hands and pressing his forehead to yours. You could feel he was shaking, and your skin grew cold. You realised it was really happening now.

"Do it," he said. "Destroy the ship."

After a moment of hesitation, you gave a nod. He kissed you deeply again. You turned the holo to activate the ship and program its own destruction.

"Self-destruction mechanism activated," the computer confirmed.

"We have sixty seconds," you mumbled, tears already forming in your eyes. He cut you off with a kiss. You would miss those warm lips on yours.

"That's enough for me," he said. You smiled and he did the same.

"I love you, Cleon," you embraced his body with a hug. "I am happy I met this kind of pain with you."

He cupped your cheeks, pecking your lips, smiling down at you, saying I love you too. You, the one who saved him and gave him a second chance. Or at least a moment of relief. A place and a person who allowed him to be himself and find things he never knew would have.

"We have more in common now," he whispered. "We are both alone and hurting somewhere in the galaxy.”

#brother day x female reader #brother day smut #brother day x reader #cleon xvii #cleon xvii x reader #cleon xvii smut #foundation 2021 #foundation fanfiction #foundation apple tv #foundation imagines #isaac asimov foundation #lee pace #lee pace fanfiction #lee pace x reader #lee pace smut #brother day foundation #foundation season 2

292 notes · View notes

gabessquishytum · 1 year ago

Note

Dream's family is convinced that Hob is a gold digger; after all he's just a bartender/teacher/quirky small business owner, he must be with Dream for the money -- no one ever chooses Dream for his personality. Besides, Hob claims he didn't know who Dream was when he met him, the whole family is famous, how could he not.

I read this and got the idea of Hob being like. Totally clueless about certain things? His friends joke that he was raised as a medieval peasant. Maybe he was in a kind of commune situation or his parents were just weird, but every so often he'll be like,, "What's a DVD player?" And he absolutely means it. He still doesn't really use the Internet or social media, and while he's a very good bartender he does sometimes just completely miss pop culture references.

("You don't know who Take That are?! Where were you in the 90s?" "Oh, funny story, I actually had a job sheering sheep in the middle of nowhere and we didn't really have a radio.")

Which is why he doesn't know who any of the Endless family members are. But it's not just that! Maybe Dream is an actor or a model, but Hob has just,,,, never heard of any of his work. If he's modelled for Versace? Hob is saying "who?" with this cute frown between his eyebrows. After they actually meet, Hob makes a point of researching stuff about Dream to get to know him better and to be able to hold a conversation with him. He actually gets to be an expert on Dream’s career! And he loves telling people facts about how cool and successful his boyfriend is.

Dream LOVES that Hob is like this. Partly because Dream is quite similar - knows a lot about his special interests, knows nothing about basic life skills. They understand each other. But it is kind of incredible to know that Hob really did pick him because of who he is as a person. He wouldn't even care if Hob takes all his money at this point. Lets be real, Hob would probably just spend it on some very strange antique furniture for the bar. But he's too busy being weird with his boyfriend to care about money anyway <3

#the sandman #dreamling

188 notes · View notes

minh-i · 4 months ago

Text

To Rin, Sae might be the older brother that he looked up to who abandoned him after he came back from Spain. And to some others, Sae might be the guy who came back, abandoned Rin and their dream because he felt that Rin was too 'below' him. But I feel like that might not be the case at all.

Hear me out, Sae came back from Spain looking tired, drained, because he went and 'explored' the real world, he knows that he wasn't as good compared to the real pros.

This kind of tells us why Sae hates the Japanese football team so much. Take Kira for example, like Sae, he was glorified, admired upon as the future of the Japanese football team. But then he, and Sae, both met people with bigger egos, skills and unlike Sae who had the chance to 'improve' in Spain (I'll just say it like that for now cuz there's no Sae backstory yet), Kira got coldly eliminated and was never seen again.

Sae knows that the JFU doesn't really care about football and just wants to make a quick buck, thats why he hates them so much.

Next thing, the relationship of Sae and Rin. We know that they got along really well as kids and suddenly, Sae came back, changed his dream, and abandoned his brother. That's how it is right? But I feel like there's more to it than just that.

Sae's original dream was to become a striker, but when he went to play for Real Madrid that dream was probably crushed as he realized that he is, in fact, not as good as he thought he was. So, instead of being the world's best striker, as someone who's faced reality, he's aiming to be the best middle fielder instead. So he can support his lil bro, side by side with him.

In this panel here, Rin said that Sae said that they'd fight together. And Sae, instead of fulfilling that promise as a striker he's trying to tell Rin that he can be the best striker instead, and that his big bro the 'world's best middle fielder' will be right by his side to give him the support he needs.

But as Rin spoke Sae probably realized how heavily dependent his brother was to him. Rin wasn't playing football for the sake of football or his own passion, Rin was playing football for the sake of being the second best after Sae, playing football because of Sae. I think that's what set Sae off.

If you really look at Sae's eyes here I think you can kinda see that Sae was hurt by the words that Rin said (at least that's what I see -the widened eyes mixed with the heavy eye bags makes it look like Sae is gonna tear up-)

But by now, Sae has realized how dependent his brother's goal was on him and Sae knows that with a half assed goal like that, Rin won't be able to get nowhere in the 'real world'. Like Sae said, and I quote "The soccer field is a battlefield" which means that there is no room to be 2nd best. You either give it your all or give it nothing.

Sae wants Rin to have a goal of his own, if the only reason Rin is playing football is because of him, then Rin won't be able to make it.

In conclusion, as kids, Sae and Rin shared a dream, to be the best and 2nd best striker. But Sae, who has faced the real world and realized how Rin never wanted to be the best and only to be '2nd best after Sae' felt that Rin's resolve is weak and feeble decides to end 'their dream' right then and there.

And for Rin, if he were to keep playing even after Sae shattered their dream, to have his own goal to keep going forward to. Instead of always aiming for 2nd best.

Sae knows that he's just that good now since he's been able to play with world pros and have improved massively. So if Rin were able to beat him in a one on one, it'd mean that Rin would have enough potential to make it even if he'd be aiming for 2nd best, It'd mean that Rin would have enough talent and skill to continue 'dreaming'. But if Rin loses, their shared dream would be over and it'd be time for Rin to figure out his own dream and goal in life. To aim for the top, and to aim to be better than everyone else, which ultimately means for Rin to be able to overcome himself and aim to be better than he already is. Rin aiming for 2nd will not give him the same result because he's aiming to be good but you'd never overcome his mental barrier of 'not aiming to be the best' and it'd stop him from being able to evolve further (if you know what I mean?)

In this panel, you can see Rin calling Sae 'big brother' even though previously, Rin wanted no mention of Sae being related to him. Which shows that Rin is still attached to Sae and that Rin's only goal really, even though he said was to overcome his brother, was probably to be able to get his brother's approval rather than to actually become better than him.

I swear, if Sae had admitted to him being proud of Rin (which I wished happened) Rin might've lost his goal, which is to overcome and beat Sae, and gone back to his 'lukewarm self'. But because Sae chose to compliment Rin's rival/Isagi instead of him it made Rin's hatred for Sae and Isagi grow even more. In the end, as shown in chap 269 and in the U20 game, if Rin remembers the 'unpleasant memories' of him and Sae (+ the restriction Isagi brings) it manages to bring out his ego and further evolve him.

So I guess in the end, even though I'd very much love for them to reconcile, this is probably the better decision for Rin's football career (I still rlly want them to make up with each other, the sibling angst is getting to me).

I was rereading blue lock and this is just my own interpretation of these scenes. I don't know how accurate this is but this is how I see it. Also, I didn't proof read, this is just a rant because Itoshi brothers lore is sad. I probably repeated a lot of words so apologies for that.

#Itoshi siblings rant #I feel like sae still just wanted the best for Rin despite not taking the most peaceful approach to it #Maybe Sae wanted to change Rin's goal from being 2nd best to being able to beat and overcome Sae #Who might i add is the best in Rin's mind #In chapter 269 Rin sees Sae as a person who is 'stronger than the rest'#blue lock #bllk #rin itoshi #sae itoshi #I love them sm

53 notes · View notes

wenigstenshabeichesversucht · 1 year ago

Text

Drinks and kisses

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

Summary: Four times you drunkenly confessed your love to Lockwood and one time you did it sober.

Warnings: alcohol consumption (OC is not an alcoholic, she just can't tolerate alcohol), English is not my native language

Word Count: 2,6k

For the story I used some of the Drunken Love Confessions from @creativepromptsforwriting, please check out her blog

Living the life of an agent aka child solider was most of the time gruesome. After dusk as the adults hid behind silver fences and thick walls, you and the other kids dared to venture into the dark night to fight against ghosts. Every agent knew another who had died on a mission. Life was pretty depressing if you didn’t take it in your own hands to enjoy it. Therefore, at Lockwood and Co., you celebrated every so little milestone and achievement. While Lockwood, your boss, landlord and crush, and George sometimes drank beer, you only drank alcohol at you little celebrations. To say that you could handle your liquor, was an exaggerated lie.

The first time you told Lockwood, that you liked him more than a friend was at one of this so-called parties. Lockwood and Co. had just finished a big case. That was reason enough to get together and drink.

It was already late that night, the song on the radio floated through the room and Kipps was asleep on the couch. Lucy was nowhere to be seen and George and Holly were in one corner of the living room lively talking about cooking.

However, you only had eyes for Lockwood sitting in his favourite armchair. His hair was shining so nicely, and you really wanted to touch it. Would it feel under your fingers as soft as it looked? That thought should have been warning enough that you were drunk. But drunk-you wasn’t smart and neither discreet with your staring. Everybody who took one second to watch you with Lockwood, would realize that you liked him. Thank God Lockwood was an even bigger idiot than you.

“What are you thinking about, sweets?”, broke Lockwood the silence between you two and normally, caught in your staring, you would have looked away. But normal-you and drunk-you were two totally different persons. Drunk-you was loud and bold, while normal-you shied away.

“About you”, you declared honest, and sober you would have never said something like this. However, drunk you didn’t even blush.

“About me?”, echoed Lockwood confused and reminded you by doing so of a puppy. You loved puppies.

“You’re cute. And a bit blurry. But definitely always so cute.” The words just tumbled out of your mouth. Even if you wanted to, you wouldn't have been able to stop them. But drunk-you didn’t know something like regret. Before Lockwood could say anything, you took a page out of Kipps books and just felt asleep.

The next morning you had no memory about what you said. At breakfast Lockwood acted like always except his ears turned a little red when you asked him for the butter. But you were too hungover to pay attention.

The second time happened at Lucy’s birthday party. The birthday girl and you were dancing in the middle of the living room, downing one shot after the other. You intentionally ignored Lockwood, who warned you to slow down. Maybe that was a mistake. Or the five tequila shots were a mistake. Or both were a mistake.

Anyway, one moment you were dancing with Lucy, having the best time of your life and in the next moment you felt awful. Pressing your hand over your mouth you made a beeline for the next bathroom. You barely made it to the toilet before you threw up.

Hurrying footsteps sounded behind you and then someone held your hair back. With a small whimper you puked again.

“Just let it out then you’ll feel better”, he whispered softly while he caressed your back. Sober-you would probably have sunk into the floor in shame. But hanging over the toilet bowl you were too drunk to care.

You didn’t know how long you puked your soul out of your body. Lockwood had taken a seat on the floor behind you and didn’t stop rubbing your back.

“Can you keep a secret?”, you slurred and rested your head against his shoulder. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him nodding.

“I have a crush on Lockwood, but you can’t tell him or anybody else.” He laughed, and you could feel the vibration of his chest.

“I would love to hear those words in any other place than this bathroom, holding your hair back.”

“But you can’t tell him or anybody else”, you repeated urgent. You couldn’t imagine that Lockwood liked you back, and you didn’t want to make the atmosphere in the house awkward. Therefore, Lockwood was never allowed to know how you felt about him.

“I swear, let’s get you cleaned up and in your bed, sweets.” Fishing a washcloth from the sink, he gently wiped your face. Then he scoped you up in his arms and started carrying to your room.

The third time: Bright giggles echoed across the attic.

“No-no-no it wasn’t like this”, Lucy laughed while taking another sip from the vodka.

You just returned from your case to a waiting Norrie. Norrie was Lucy’s girlfriend and was visiting her in London. As you had stumbled through the front door, Norrie had already handed you a bottle of vodka. Now sitting in the attic, you slowly nursed the alcohol.

“And how did it go in your opinion?”, asked Norrie, who was telling an embarrassing story about the time Lucy and her had still worked in the northern part of Great Britain.

“First it wasn’t so embarrassing how you make it sound.”

“Sure”, you butted in as you and Norrie shared a meaningful glance.

“Don’t join forces against me”, Lucy demanded, not blind to your actions.

“We would never!”, giving her an appeasing kiss, Norrie took the bottle from Lucy.

“Why does it feel like you’re lying to me?” maybe a little bit paranoid, maybe appropriately paranoid, Lucy raised one eyebrow. You meanwhile tried to look as innocent as possible. Of course, you would join forces with your best friend’s girlfriend against said best friend. Where else was the fun?

Seeing through your innocent act, Lucy pointed accusing her finger at you. “As punishment you have to get the snacks from downstairs.”

Rolling your eyes, you stole the bottle out of Norrie’s grip and took a big sip. Leave it to Lucy to find an excuse to not go down all the stairs. But it was OK, as long George and Lockwood were still not home from their case. If George caught you stealing the snacks, he would demand that Lockwood would revoke your biscuits rights. So, there was a big risk associated with getting the snacks. Was it a risk worth taking? Drunk-you said yes.

“I will be right back”, with a wink to the girls, you picked yourself up.

You noticed immediately that you were drunker, than you had thought. Your steps were a little wobbly and the world was turning more than usually. But you lived more than two years in this house. You knew which floorboard creaked and how many steps each of the stairs had. With your eyes closed, you would find your way from the attic down to the kitchen. So being drunk shouldn’t be too much of a problem.

You should be right for most of the way. You already reached the last stairs down to the kitchen without tripping over your own feet, when the front door flew open, and Lockwood and George came clattering in. Normally you weren’t easily startled. You were an agent for gods’ sake. But you were drunk and hadn't expected their loud arrival.

You weren’t sure who was more surprised. You, who lost your footing and tumbled down the stairs, or Lockwood, who was standing at the bottom of said stairs. At least he wasn’t drunk and therefore had quicker reflexes than you. Instead of stepping aside and leaving you to your fate, he caught you. For a moment nobody said something, there was only a shocked silence between you.

“I think I just fell in love with you”, you drunkenly joked.

“No, you fell down the stairs. You should really learn to hold your liquor, sweets”, Lockwood told you stern, without letting go of you. But you saw the creeping blush appear on his face.

“I get her a glass of water”, clearing awkwardly his throat, George rushed to the kitchen.

“You drive me out of my mind, sweets”, whispered Lockwood against your hair, but you were too busy getting lost in his scent. He smelled of lavender and bergamot. Your favourite smell in the whole world.

The fourth time you told Lockwood, that you loved him you were drunk, shocking you know.

You just came home from evening with your old friends from Rothwell and as always, you easily became too drunk.

Usually when someone of the team went out after dark, Lockwood waited for them to come home. This time was no different.

As you drunkenly stumbled out of the night cab, Lockwood was already opening the front door.

“Hi handsome”, you greeted him without shame.

“You’re drunk”, he blandly stated, but his eyes were sparkling like someone stole the stars from the sky and hide them there. He had beautiful eyes. You could spend hours gazing in his eyes.

“Yes”, you admitted before a wide grin took over your face, “and hopelessly in love with you!”

Pushing past him, you stumbled into the hallway. Behind you, you could hear Lockwood taking a surprise inhale. However, you were already busy with your next task, taking off your shoes without falling over.

“Say that again after two coffees at least and I will be yours”, he whispered barely for you to hear.

Then he rushed to you, “Sweets, let me help.”

Getting on his knees he carefully unclasped your shoes. Where his hands touched your bare skin, it felt like you were burning.

“We should get you some water.” That sounded like a really good idea. Allowing Lockwood to take your hand, you let him pull you into the kitchen.

“I hoped you had a great evening”, he carefully led you to your chair before he went to the sink and got you a glass of water.

“It was sooo great, only you were missing!”

“Maybe then I join next time”, Lockwood mused taking a seat in front of you.

“You should, my friends really want to meet the person, who stole me away from Rothwell.”

“And I would steal you again, sweets. A shame that you will not remember this talk tomorrow.”

The one time you told him what you felt while being sober:

It had been a nerve-wracking case. You felt like a wrack when you finally reached Portland Row. Everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong, and you were lucky that all four of you were still alive. Stressed you all went separated ways. While Lucy rushed to the attic, you scored the first shower to remove the remains of salt and sweat that stuck to you like a second skin.

When you return to the kitchen after the shower to get a glass of water, you expected to find it deserted. After a case like this the team usually retreated to each of their own room to lick their metaphorical wounds in peace. You were no exception. Therefore, you were even more surprised when you saw the light shining from under the closed kitchen door.

Not bothering to knock you entered the room, to see Lockwood sitting at the kitchen table, in front of him the open first aid kit. His dress shirt was unbuttoned, and you couldn’t help gaping. Slowly blood was seeping out of a large wound, you didn’t know about. Caught, he looked up when you entered.

“That’s not what it’s looked like.”

“So, you didn't hide from us that you were injured?”

Not waiting for his answer, you could lie to yourself, you pressed a compress on his wound to stop the bleeding. As reaction Lockwood just took a sharp inhale and a little part of you were glad, that it hurt.

“We are a team; we can’t help you if you don’t let us”, you started to lecture him. But as Lockwood looked down ashamed your anger vanished into thin air. You couldn’t stay mad at him for long.

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I will always worry about you”, you paused for a moment, not sure if you should really say what just popped up in your mind. But then you gathered all your courage and did it, “I will always worry about you because I love you.”

Your heart was beating like crazy, while you waited for a response. But now it was out and nothing you could do could undo it. That was somehow liberating.

“I know.”

On the list of the worst reactions after a declaration of love, “I know” was at the top. You didn't know whether to cry or to scream. However, in the end you couldn't do either. You could just stare at him while your mouth dropped open.

“You know?”, you echoed and could feel how something in your chest broke into two parts. He knew that you loved him and never said something. That could only mean one thing, he didn’t feel the same way you did. Shame slowly crept into your face.

“You already told me one, two, or maybe four times”, Lockwood explained to you and if it were up to you, he would have simply remained silent. He didn't have to try to reject you nicely, what he said was already enough for you. Standing up so quickly that your chair flew over, you tried to escape from the kitchen, but grasping your wrist, he stopped you.

“You already told me, that you love me, but there was never a good moment to reveal to you, that I love you too.” In total disbelief you gasped at him. He must be joking. Couldn’t he have told you this sooner instead of sending you on this rollercoaster of emotions?

“You love me too?”, you echoed and slowly started to feel like a parrot.

“Yes, I love you, sweets.”

“Why couldn't you say that right away?” Technically, you should be floating from happiness that he reciprocated your feelings. But you were just angry. Before Lockwood could answer you, you continued, “and when did I tell you that I love you before?” No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't remember it.

“You told me this four times when you were really drunk.”

“And you never thought to talk to me about it the next day?” Flabbergasted you shook your head. You just couldn’t believe it.

“I wasn’t sure if you really meant it and I didn’t want to embarrass you either.”

Up in the hallway, George discreetly listened to the loud voices.

“Didn’t she just tell him that she loves him?”, Lucy asked, also attracted by the noise.

“Yes.”

“But why are they yelling? Shouldn’t they be kissing or something like that?”, confused Lucy wrinkled her nose. Taking his eyes off the closed kitchen door, George looked at her.

“In response to her confession he said, “I know””

“What an idiot!”

“But an idiot in love, it seems.”

Back in the kitchen your chest rose and fell angrily. Still, you couldn’t believe that he had been aware that you liked him, and never acted on it while also being in love with you.

“You are an idiot, Anthony Lockwood.”

The biggest idiot you knew.

“But hopefully your idiot?”

Instead of answering, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, softly at first but with growing intensity. When you separated you felt dizzy.

“Yes, you are my idiot.”

#anthony lockwood #lockwood & co #lockwood & co fanfic #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood netflix #fanfic #lockwood x reader

234 notes · View notes