#and it is clear they adore each other and fit together like two very odd puzzle pieces | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

harrysgoldenbum · 2 years ago

Text

Don't Blame Me for Falling - Epilogue

I know there were quite a few of you who were looking forward to the epilogue for this series, and I just want to say thanks for your patience, I hope you enjoy it, please be sure to like, reblog, and send feedback.

You can read Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 here.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: none

~~~

Three weeks later

She hears the key turning in the lock a few minutes before eleven. She tucks her feet under her on his couch and tries to look casual, like she hasn’t been staring at the doorknob for the better part of the last half hour.

Harry opens the door and chuckles softly when he sees her sitting there. “Thought I might find you here.”

She gives him a look of mock indignance. “You thought! What about this text I got not too long ago.” Y/N grabs her phone off his coffee table and clears her throat, preparing to read his message in her sexist voice. “Use your key. I need you naked and waiting for me.”

She watches him as he sheds his suit jacket and loosens his tie as his eyes sweep over her, a dangerous spark gleaming in his enchanting green eyes. “Two out of the three isn’t too bad, love.” Then his eyes cut to the coffee table and his face breaks into a smile. “You are too fucking good to me.”

“I’m sure your dinner with that Bonbon chick was much classier than pizza and wine, but the portions at that swanky restaurant suck, and I figured you might be hungry.”

“Candy,” Harry laughs. “Her name was Candy.”

“And I know they don’t serve popcorn and Junior Mints at the symphony…”

He shakes his head at her and untucks his stiff white dress shirt from his pants. “Y/N, I’d rather eat pizza and wine and watch movies with you, over some overpriced seafood, and a symphony any day.” His fingers work the buttons through the holes of his shirt until he shrugs it off his shoulders. Her eyes take in his ink-covered skin, and a shudder travels through her body. God, he is glorious. She wets her lips as she greedily takes in his abs and soft hips. She wants to kiss her way down his butterfly and lick her way down his fern tattoo until she reaches his cock.

“See, this is why I waited to fulfill the second part of your request.” She rises from the couch and saunters toward him, the silky material of her robe brushes her thighs as she walks. “I figured we could just get naked together… unless you’re hungry.”

“I’m hungry,” he agrees, tangling his fingers in the knot of her robe. He growls impatiently when he finds it double-knotted. “I’ve been famished for you all night.”

“I hope you made it clear to Cherry that you had a girlfriend…” she deftly whips his belt out from the loops, once she’s unbuckled it.

He snorts softly. “You’re jealousy is actually quite adorable, darling. But yes, I told her upfront that while I was flattered she spent so generously, just for an evening with me, I was completely unavailable, and my beautiful girlfriend would be waiting for me when I got home.

“Hmmm… someone was confident.” Y/N coyly toys with his zipper, dragging it down slowly, before he assists her in stepping out of his pants. Neither one of them says what they are thinking; that she’s spent virtually every night in his apartment since the night of the auction. The odds that she’d have wound up there tonight, with or without his text invitation, were all but certain.

As it was in Mexico, they’re just so at ease with each other. Given how intense the start of their very unconventional courtship was, it seems only fitting that they’ve fallen into pseudo-domestic bliss so soon. Just yesterday, he had given her a key to his place and told her to feel free to let herself in any time, especially if she needs to crash between classes or clinic work.

Harry finally gets her knot undone, and he smirks triumphantly when he parts her robe. She gives a subtle lift of her shoulders, and it falls to the floor. Her nipples tighten and a chill runs through her as she stands fully nude before him.

“Fuck me, you’re perfect. C’mere.”

She holds up her hand and runs her tongue across her lower lip. “Not yet. You need to finish getting naked.”

He pouts at her, and she has to laugh because if he finds jealous Y/N adorable, she finds pouty Harry equally cute. As he reaches for the waistband of his briefs, her eyes wander to the outline of his cock, and she can see that he is already semi-erect.

“Oh, wait… I forgot. I have a present for you.”

She makes a face at him. “You gave me a present yesterday… the key, the one used to get in here tonight?”

“That was a necessity. This is complete indulgence.” She unabashedly watches his ass, hugged by the cotton-spandex of his underwear, as he fishes something out of the inner breast pocket of his jacket. He walks back to her and hands her the envelop. She turns it over in her hands, excitement coursing through her. “Thank you for letting me out with another woman tonight.”

She snickers, “Like I had a choice.”

“You trustes me, Y/N. Obligation or not, you can’t know how important that is to me. Having trust…” he trails off and briefly adverts his eyes, looking down at his hands. “Go on.”

She stares down at the bed-and-breakfast brochure, her heart swelling as she studies the photos of the picturesque inn and the bucolic setting. “Its perfect Harry,” she whispers, throwing her arms around his neck, pressing her naked body against his nearly naked one.

He hugs her strongly, carding his fingers through her hair. She whimpers softly when he starts massaging her scalp.

“Mmm… there’s one of those little noises I like… ‘the playing with your hair’ one.”

She nuzzles his neck and bucks her hips against the bulge in his briefs. “You’ll get to hear a lot more of my noises, if you’ll just get naked and fuck me already.”

He reaches between them, works his underwear down his legs, and nudges it aside with his foot. He wedges one leg between her and they stumble over to the couch. “Have I told you today how much I want you?” he asks, stretching his body out along hers. She arches up, pressing her breast flat against his chest.

“You might have,” she whispers, suckling at his pulse point.

“Hmm... well have I told you today how much I love you?”

She freezes, her mouth still suctioned over his skin. She drops her head back down and gazes up at him, too stunned to speak. He smiles, brushing his fingers along her forehead, smoothing her hair out of the way.

“Because I do… I love you Y/N…”

She sighs, her face stretching into a giddy smile. “I love you too, Harry. So much.” He presses her down into the couch cushions, kissing her passionately. “And you’re about to hear some new noises, just so you know…”

----

10 years later

“You hold tight to Kale, and I’ll hold tight to you, okay?”

She nods, her green eyes wide, and clutches her raggedy stuffed elephant closer to her chest. Harry leans down and scoops her into his arms, effortlessly.

“Now you-.” He turns his attention to Y/N. “You give me that bag.”

“Harry, no, I can manage. Everything else is check. I’m not carrying anything.”

“Bull-” He catches himself and stops, cutting his eye apologetically to their daughter in his arms. “You’re carrying the most precious cargo of all.” He curves his palm over Y/N’s slightly bulging belly. “Now stop arguing with me and give me that bag.”

She signs and helps him hitch the carry-on bag onto his free shoulder. Then she reaches up and smooths their daughters dark curls back from her face.

“You excited for your first plane ride?”

The big green eyes, so like Harry’s, shine as she nods. Y/N laughs and follows him down the jayway, smiling as she watches her little girl and her husband. The spindly little arms wound around Harry’s neck have lost all residual baby chubbiness, now that she’s a big girl of almost five. He talks to her, his voice animated, and Y/N hears him explaining all the things that are going to happen when the plane takes off.

“...And if your ears start to hurt, you just open your mouth and yawn a few times.”

“What if I’m not tired?”

Harry chuckles. “You don’t have to be tired to yawn. I’ll show you.” He opens his mouth wide and a second later his eyes are squinching shut and he yawn exaggeratedly.

The flight attendant standing at the door welcomes then aboard, and she makes a big fuss over Kale that elephant. Y/N smiles as their daughter’s eyes light up and she starts babbling about how this is Kale’s first plane ride too, and how she’s had Kale her whole life, and how it was a present from her Auntie Gemma, who they are meeting in California, and that’s where she’s going, and she’s going to see Disneyland with her cousins…

“Hey angel, did Daddy ever tell you that he and Mummy met on a plane?” Harry interjects, exchanging an amused glance with Y/N. She shakes her head at him. She knows the flight attendant would have continued to humor their little girl, but her chattiness does need to have limits sometimes.

“Really?” she squeals.

Harry nods. “Yep. Right over there.” he uses his brow to gesture to the fifteenth row of seats.

“Right there?”

“Well, not right there,” Y/N corrects. It was a different plane, honey.”

“I thought she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen… until you were born, of course.” he wiggles his eyebrows at Y/N and she playfully rolls her eyes at him.

“Mummy is the prettiest,” their daughter, concurs, her expression serious.

“Yes, she is.” He cranes his neck over his shoulder and presses a kiss to Y/N’s cheek. “And here we are, 19 A, B, and C.”

He holds her in his lap as he lets her peer out the window, and she shows her how the little window shade lowers. She pouts when Harry insists that she has to sit between him and Y/N. They both get her settled in the middle seat, fastening and adjusting the seat belt, and Y/N helps her secure the oversized headphones on her ears so that she can watch her shows on the iPad.

Harry leans over the little head, now thoroughly preoccupied, and he signals Y/N to come closer. She shifts in her seat and he kisses her, resting their foreheads against each other’s.

“I think this is the first flight we’re taking together since that very first one where I’m not punching your mile-high membership card, my love.”

“Harry!” Y/N blushes, stealing a quick glimpse at their daughter. They both pause for a moment, and Y/N can hear the soft, melodic voice singing along to the show on the iPad.

“Like mother, like daughter.” Harry smiles. He looks thoughtful for a moment. “You know its technically his first plane ride too.”

Y/N rubs her belly gently. “You’re so sure that this one’s a boy, aren’t you?” She’s just over three months along, and while they might be able to find out the gender at her next appointment, she and Harry agreed that like last time, they want to be surprised again.

“That I am. And I was right last time, was I not?” He tips her chin toward him for an other kiss. She strokes his cheek tenderly, gazing into his eyes. She never tires of looking at this beautiful man - her husband, the father of her children. He only gets better with age.

When the flight attendant begins the safety demonstration and preparations are made for takeoff, she settles back into her seat, hands on her belly, marveling in how one chance encounter ten years ago could lead to all of this.

~fin~

masterlist // come talk to me

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst

64 notes · View notes

mjolnir-steve · 3 years ago

Text

Foolish

Frank Adler x fem!Reader

Word count: 5027 (oop)

Warnings: light drinking, very brief mention of suicide, some cursing, smut (18+ ONLY!!!), unprotected sex (m/f) ... Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Hi, y’all! Here’s my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817’s Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge!!!! I haven’t written smut in a LONG time, so please be gentle with me LOL. Here’s what I got:

Frank Adler

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Breeding / mutual pining 🥴

I’d like to dedicate this to @rodrikstark for always sharing the Frank Adler feels and @sparkledfirecracker for bullying me (with love) into finishing this. ❤️

If you like this fic, please comment and reblog!!! I hope you enjoy. :)

Fridays never seemed to come soon enough. You looked forward to the beginning of the weekend as much as the next person, but over the last few months, Friday nights took on new meaning for you. You moved to the trailer park a little less than a year ago, wanting to buy a small place of your own and start making a home for yourself. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t expensive, and it was only a ten-minute drive from your office where you’d just secured a promotion. Roberta, the manager, helped you make it feel like home right away, insisting on going with you to pick out paint samples and providing copies of menus for the best take-out in the area.

Before long, Roberta introduced you to the trailer park’s resident certified genius, Mary Adler. Mary and Roberta spent Saturday mornings with you when you were free, which unfortunately, was pretty much all the time. You played games, sang karaoke, and even let Mary’s one-eyed cat Fred come over. He took a liking to your swinging chair in the living room, and if Mary couldn’t find him at home, odds were he somehow squeezed through your window and ended up in that chair.

Another two months had passed, though, before you met Mary’s uncle and guardian, Frank. You came to learn that Mary stayed with Roberta every Friday night because “Frank needs time to be an adult” and she was not allowed to come back to the house until noon on Saturdays. This information made you feel like Frank must be some kind of sad, perpetual fuckboy. You were right about the sad part, not so much about the latter. One morning while Mary played with your watercolors, Roberta let slip - ironically over a cup of tea - that Frank did have the occasional hookup, but usually, he drank himself sleepy on Friday nights and just needed the time to himself. He worked himself to the bone as a boat mechanic, often late into the night because it was too hot to do some jobs during the day. Frank took Mary in when she was just a baby after his sister, her mother, tragically committed suicide. He spent the majority of his scarce free time with Mary, so when Mary was still a toddler, Roberta offered the Friday night deal. Frank countered that he would do any repairs in the trailer park for free, but she refused to let him do that work without pay, saying he deserved to have a life, too.

She also informed you that Frank was a former philosophy professor, single, and very attractive, especially if you were into the rugged thing. You rolled your eyes with an amused exhale and took another sip of your tea. You’d be lying if you said your interest wasn’t piqued. Mary then shouted over her shoulder, confirming that she’d been listening to your entire conversation, “Frank is great, but he’s a grump. Good luck cracking that egg.” You snorted, nearly spitting out your tea, and she went back to reading your color theory book to Fred.

With that, you heard a sharp rap at the door. You set your tea down on the kitchen table, curious who your visitor might be. You didn’t know anyone else in the trailer park, or in town, really. You opened the door, taking in the sight of possibly - no, definitely - the most handsome man you’d ever seen. You quickly guessed it was Frank, judging by the grease smeared on his quite large hands. His eyes, though tired, had the same bright look as Mary’s, and he had the most perfectly imperfect fluffy hair and overgrown stubble.

“Good morning,” he said with a sweet, closed-mouthed smile. “Is Mary here?”

You had to remind yourself to breathe. Stammering, you opened the door wider, gesturing inside. “Hi, y-yes. She is!” Why am I like this? “She’s just painting with Fred. Please, come in.” You moved aside so he could fit his broad shoulders through the doorframe and then held out your hand. “You must be Frank. I’m Y/N. Mary is just wonderful.” You smiled at him, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

He took your hand in both of his, gentler than you’d expected. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’m Frank. It’s great to meet you, finally.” He smiled wide for the first time and you were certain you’d pass out. Who LOOKS like this? “And thank you, she really is wonderful. I couldn’t do it without Roberta. She’s family.” He smiled and waved at Roberta, who was looking at you over the lip of her mug.

Mary didn’t even bother to turn around and face Frank. “What are you doing here, Frank? It’s only 11. I have a whole ‘nother hour with my friends.” You tried to keep your laugh quiet, covering your mouth with your hand and shaking your head.

“Well, excuse me for thinking you might like to go out on the boat with me this morning. I guess I’ll go by myself.”

Mary jumped up from the floor, scrambling to clean up your paints and books. “Can Y/N and Roberta come?”

Frank crouched down to meet Mary’s eyes. “Of course they can, if they’d like.” He looked back at you over his shoulder, trying to gauge your interest, then turning back to his niece. “But do you remember what I told you?”

You could see that Mary was making a conscious effort not to roll her eyes. “You told me that my adult friends have adult lives that include adult responsibilities, and they might not always be available to spend time with me.”

“And?” he looked at her expectantly.

“And I need to invite them to do things without assuming they will do them.” She couldn’t hold back her eye roll any longer, but she made sure not to let Frank see. “Roberta, Y/N, would you both like to join us on the boat today?”

You were amazed by the exchange taking place in front of you, able to see where some of Mary’s brains and tenacity came from. The conversation between the two flowed so easily, playful yet intelligent. It was clear that Frank treated Mary not as a child, but as a person, and you chided yourself internally for thinking that was kinda hot.

Shaking yourself out of your mildly inappropriate thoughts, you responded. “I’d love to come, Mary.” You smiled at her, bending over to help her pick up the last of the paints from the floor. “Roberta?”

Roberta gave you a look and you just knew she planned this somehow. “I actually do have some of those adult responsibilities to handle today, but thank you for inviting me.” You sent a glare in her direction, quick but no less scathing. “Maybe next time.” She winked at you before washing out her mug and saying her goodbyes.

You spent the whole rest of the day and night with Frank and Mary, doing everything from building sandcastles to cooking dinner together. Mary eventually fell asleep in your lap as you were watching Oliver & Company, Frank’s favorite Disney film that had become Mary’s, too. “An underrated classic,” they told you in unison.

You helped Frank put Mary to bed, a task made easier after such a tiring day. “I guess I should get going.” You stood awkwardly in the small kitchen, unsure of yourself and painfully aware of how close your hand was to Frank’s resting on the counter.

“Yeah, I have a job early in the morning.” He looked down at his shoes, unable to look you in the eye, and you wondered if he hadn’t found your company as enjoyable as you’d found his.

“Listen, I don’t know if you’ve been to Ferg’s? The little bar down the road? I go every Friday night just to relax and have a few beers. Maybe you’d like to come with me next weekend?”

Is he asking me on a date? You could feel your heartbeat racing. The look on your face must not have matched the excitement you felt at the prospect of spending time alone with the dreamy, kind, sarcastic man in front of you.

He felt like an idiot when you hesitated to answer. He clearly read everything wrong. He had to fix this. “It’s a good place to meet people, you know? I know you’re fairly new to the area, so if you’re looking for more local friends, it’s a good place to start.” He winced, hoping you couldn’t sense his embarrassment at thinking that you would want to go on a date with him.

You swallowed, trying not to let your disappointment show outwardly. Of course he’s not interested in me. Stupid. “Oh, yeah! That would be great, Frank. What time?”

Frank let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, relieved that you didn’t seem offended by his offer. “How’s 7? I’ll pick you up? We can walk over together.”

And that’s how Fridays came to mean so much to you. Almost every Friday for the last six months, Frank met you at your door and you walked to Ferg’s together. Frank told you it would be a good place to make new friends, but you paid no mind to the other patrons. You only had eyes for each other, yet neither of you could see it, even though Roberta pointed out (repeatedly) that neither of you had taken anyone else home in all that time.

The more time you spent with Frank, the more certain you were that God was real and your life was His favorite trainwreck reality TV series. Even if you could have customized a dream man Build-A-Bear style, Frank still would blow your creation out of the water. He was smart and funny, not to mention an adoring parent to Mary, to whom you grew more attached each day. He was kind and thoughtful, talented and hard-working. Although he was a grouch, as Mary would say, he always was sweet to you. He took a genuine interest in anything you had to say, whether you were venting about work or filling him on the latest episode of whatever show you were binging. He was ridiculously sexy without even trying. All those hours he spent doing manual labor in the sun did wonders for his physique. You’d only seen him completely shirtless on one occasion, and the image of him with sweat dripping down his chest was burned into your memory, fueling your late-night thots and causing you to break out your vibrator on what was now a regular basis.

Six months had come and gone in the blink of an eye, and you’d begun to accept that Frank didn’t want to be anything more than friends with you. You decided tonight was as good a night as any to talk to someone new, to start letting go of your unrequited feelings.

You swapped out your usual jeans for a sundress, t-shirt bra for a push-up, and lip balm for lipstick. Putting your phone and some cash in a wristlet, you considered wearing your new strappy sandals. The walk to Ferg’s was about five minutes each way down a sandy road, though, and memories of the sticky floor inside aided your preferred pair of Converse in their victory for the night.

Just as you finished tying your shoes, you heard a knock at the door. You adjusted your cleavage and fluffed your hair a final time with one last look in the mirror. Here goes.

Frank felt like he had the wind knocked out of him in the best possible way. He suddenly felt entirely underdressed in his aloha shirt, even though it was his go-to for nights out of the house. He’d never seen you dressed so nicely when you weren’t going to work.

You were the kind of beautiful that didn’t require makeup. Your natural hair always framed your face perfectly, even if you didn’t think so. He thought you were adorable when you were concentrating on something, blowing your hair out of your face with a huff. Visions of your soft curves made their way into Frank’s dreams on more than one occasion. He had seen you in your swimsuit several times, sunbathing with Roberta and swimming with Mary at the beach. It wasn’t even all that revealing, but it accentuated your figure in ways that forced Frank into needing a cold shower or two. Above all, though, he admired your heart. You’d allowed Mary into your life without hesitation, spending time with her because you wanted to and allowing her to ask all those questions that Frank just wouldn’t be able to answer. It killed him that you didn’t see him the way he saw you, a perfect partner for him and a worthy maternal figure for Mary.

“Frank? You okay?” Your concerned voice shook him out of his thoughts, prompting him to close his mouth which apparently had opened wide in astonishment when you stood in the doorway.

“Yeah, um... You look…” He looked a little confused, his brow furrowed and lips pursed. “Why are you all dolled up? It’s only Ferg’s.” He wished he could’ve kicked himself in the teeth when your face fell at his question. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Shit. Let me try that again,” he nearly begged, running up to you to stop you from going back inside. “You look really nice, honey.” He ran his calloused hand up your forearm, but quickly returned it to his side when he realized what he’d done. “Is it a special occasion, though? Should I change?”

You gave him a watery smile, given that you were three seconds from slamming the door in his face and crying. “That’s better. Thank you.” You lightly pushed at his shoulder, trying and failing to ignore the electricity you felt at the contact. “No occasion, though. Just thought maybe it was about time I actually introduced myself to someone new.”

You couldn’t quite read his reaction. Little did you know he was certain he just felt his heart physically crack in his chest. “What do you mean?”

The two of you started walking, the tension between you thickening the very air you breathed. “Well, when you first invited me to Ferg’s, you said maybe I’d get to know some other people in the area, right? But we’re always with each other. I’m sure you’re itching to talk to someone other than me. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” Frank abruptly reverted to the quiet, distant state he usually occupied before he met you. He sped up a bit, walking ahead of you and desperately attempting to school his features before you caught up with him.

Frank practically ran to the restroom, not slowing down even to hold the door open for you. You took a deep breath and rolled your shoulders, relaxing before entering the bar. Normally, whoever made it first would order drinks for you both, but Frank made it painfully clear that he had no desire to be in your company tonight. You ordered your usual, an Angry Orchard with a shot of Fireball in a tall glass. The combination tasted like apple cider, but the burn in your throat was caused by liquor rather than heat. It was strong enough to get you buzzed, but not so strong that you’d be stumbling home. You swallowed half the glass in one gulp, wanting to feel the warmth in your veins boosting your confidence as quickly as possible.

“Y/N? How are you?” You turned around, eyes meeting those of Jamie, your coworker. He leaned in for a hug and you accepted somewhat reluctantly, having interacted with him only in passing.

“Hey! I’m all right. What’s up?” You smiled at him, taking another sip of your drink. Jamie was not very subtly staring at your chest. You weren’t crazy about him, but the attention felt nice, so you allowed it.

“Not much. Just happy it’s Friday, ya know?” He looked around for a moment before returning his attention to you. “You’re usually here with that mechanic dude, right?”

You stifled a laugh thinking about how Frank would react if he heard himself referred to as “dude” by this prick. “Yeah, he’s around somewhere. We’re just-“

“-Just friends?” he finished for you with a hopeful look.

You nodded in response, looking him up and down. He was no Frank, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome. It had been so long since you’d even been kissed, and though you hated to admit it, you were touch-starved. One night couldn’t hurt, could it?

Meanwhile, Frank was splashing his face with cool water. He couldn’t believe he’d fucked up so royally. He was sure you didn’t want him how he wanted you, and now he was sure it was too late to tell you how he really felt.

He knew from the moment he saw you that he’d never get you out of his head. Roberta had been talking you up to Frank for weeks, but he wanted no part of it, mumbling something about there being “a reason why no one used matchmakers anymore.” He had no choice but to make your acquaintance when he was looking for Mary, and he’d never been so happy that Roberta could say she told him so.

Later that day at the beach, Mary approached him while you were dozing on a towel in the sand. She sat on his lap and reached for his face, using her pointer fingers to turn the straight line of his mouth up into a smile. “Roberta says you have a ‘charming’ smile, Frank. We think you should use it more.” He chuckled quietly, careful not to disturb you, and pulled Mary in close, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. She grimaced at the feeling, dramatically wiping at her face until he let her go back to reading with Fred.

The sound of the jukebox starting up cut short his reverie. He had to get out there and explain himself. Frank dried his face and hands with a paper towel before smacking his cheeks and stretching his neck back and forth to each shoulder.

Frank exited the restroom only to find some douchebag staring at your ass as you leaned over toward the bar. He saw red when the piece of shit held out his hand behind his back while his friend slipped a twenty-dollar bill into it, seemingly winning some sort of bet.

Jamie didn’t stand a chance when Frank stormed in between the two of you. “That’s IT,” he yelled, so intense he borderline bellowed. He threw whatever cash he had in his pocket on the bar to pay for your drinks before he pulled you outside, almost getting to your door while you fought against his grip. He only stopped when you spun your body around like something out of Dancing with the Stars and jumped in front of him, forcing him to catch you.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, what are y-”

“-What are YOU doing, Frank? What the fuck was that?” You put your feet back down on the ground but remained facing him, arms crossed over your chest.

He groaned in frustration, suddenly realizing he actually had no clue how to respond. “Fuck.”

You looked at him, tapping your foot in anticipation.

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.” He rubbed at his temples in the way he did when he felt a headache coming on.

“And how was he looking at me, Frank? What does it matter to you?”

“He was looking at you like you were a piece of meat and I… FUCK!”

You both turned when your neighbor opened his window. “Can you kids keep it down out here?”

You waved bashfully at the old man. “Sorry, Mr. Parker,” you said in unison.

“Come inside, Frankie.” The nickname that typically made him roll his eyes at you never had sounded sweeter, now that its use confirmed you didn’t hate him for the scene he made. You both toed off your shoes at the door before you made your way into the living room, motioning for him to sit next to you on the couch when he tried to sit in the armchair across the room.

You leaned forward, pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger. “Now what’s going on in that sun-damaged brain of yours?”

He let out a laugh so soft you almost missed it, but you were glad you didn’t. Sitting back against the arm of the couch, you pulled a pillow into your lap and hugged it, giving Frank your full attention.

Frank cleared his throat, doing his best to accept that it was now or never. “That guy was leering at you, and it pissed me off. You deserve better, Y/N.” He pried your fingers from where they were locked around the pillow to hold your hands in his.

“If you want to meet new people, that’s great. If you don’t want to be with me, that’s a little less great, but I’d understand. He didn’t even pay for your drinks. And I th-”

You covered his mouth with one of your hands, and he knitted his brows in confusion. “You’re making it sound like it’s an option to be with you.” You were in disbelief, side-eyeing him, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to announce that you were, in fact, being Punk’d.

The corners of his mouth lifted into the soft smile he reserved for you. It was the same one he gave you whether you were on a tangent about how “Obsessed” by Mariah Carey is “the single greatest diss track of all time” or you were helping Mary put a harness and leash on Fred “just to see how he’d do” on a walk.

“For a distinguished professor, you’re kind of a dummy, Frank.” You took his face in your hands, thrilled to be feeling his stubble against your palms. Before he could talk back to you, you kissed him, unsure how you denied yourselves such a simple yet extraordinary pleasure for so long. It only took a moment for him to relax into it, his hands removing the pillow between you before finding your waist and pulling you almost into his lap.

You deepened the kiss, threading your fingers through his hair. He pulled away first, pressing his forehead to yours. “Seems like we’re both dummies, huh?”

You were going to ask why pulled away until you looked down to see a considerable tent forming in the front of his jeans. You laughed as he pulled you into a tight hug, one arm wrapped around you while the other hand held your face against his neck.

You kissed the side of his neck softly before leaning back to look at him. “All this time? I thought you didn’t see me this way.” You held his face, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “You asked me to go to Ferg’s and then said I could meet other people, so I thought that was it, you know?”

He covered your hands with his and pecked your lips softly. “Honey, I thought it was the other way around. I was trying to ask you out and you looked like you’d seen a ghost.” You giggled, spluttering a bit because tears had started falling at some point. He wiped your tears away before swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down a bit. “We’re fools, aren’t we?”

You nodded slowly and Frank saw something wicked flash in your eyes before you took his thumb in your mouth, sucking lightly. “Jesus, honey.” His length hardened underneath you and you could feel the wetness beginning to pool in your panties, prompting you to grind down into his lap.

You released his thumb from your mouth, pressing your chest into his before kissing him again. “I think we’re only fools if we don’t take advantage of the rest of your adult time.” You removed your dress easily, returning your hands to Frank’s shoulders to push off his shirt.

He surged forward to kiss you again, working magic with his tongue against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he picked you up, walking you into the bedroom. Placing you on the bed carefully, he removed your bra and panties before pulling off his boxers and jeans in one go. You thought you wanted him before, but now that you could see everything he’d been hiding under his baggy clothes, you didn’t see how you could ever let him leave your bedroom.

The next few minutes were spent exploring each other’s mouths while Frank stretched you with his fingers. You didn’t think you’d ever been so wet in your life and thought you might pass out if you didn’t feel him inside you immediately. You gave his cock a few strokes before sliding his head through your folds, coating him in your slick.

“Waitwaitwait, honey. Do you have a condom?”

“You don’t need one if you don’t want one. It’s okay.”

He looked like you just gave him tomorrow’s winning lotto numbers, taking a deep breath to steady himself before he looked at you again. “Oh, God. Are you sure?”

“Mhm. I wanna feel you. Make me yours?”

“Anything you want, honey, but if you change your mind, just tell me, okay?” He lined himself up, seconds shy of entering you for the first time.

“I figured if you were gonna be possessive of me tonight, you might as well take it the whole nine, Frankie.” You laughed as he let out an exasperated sigh. “Seriously, though, I’m clean, I’m on the pill, and I’ve wanted you for a long time.” You reached up to scratch lightly through his chest hair.

“The only thing I wanna hear right now is you moaning for me.” He drove into you harshly, but waited a moment for you to adjust once he was seated to the hilt. “So damn wet and tight for me, honey. You’re so perfect, so beautiful.” He kissed you again before he began to move, slowly but surely making you lose your mind.

He dipped his head down to take one nipple in his mouth, then the other, effectively shutting you up and emptying all thoughts from your head. He nipped at the swell of your breast, soothing the bite with his tongue. “Fuck, Frank, please!”

“Please what, honey?” He picked up his pace, fucking into you so vigorously you moved up the bed. “Tell me what you need.”

“Make me cum, Frank. Please, baby, I need it. Need you,” you cried, leaning up to bite into his shoulder, stifling your moans.

“I wanna hear you, Y/N. I wanna hear those pretty moans while I’m making this perfect pussy cum for me.” The combination of his filthy words and the sight of him sucking on his own fingers before rubbing at your clit sent you over the edge, making you scream his name over and over again for what felt like forever and not long enough.

You could tell he was close, his hips stuttering and losing their rhythm. He began to pull out, unsure if you were willing to let him finish inside you, but knowing he was too close to wait for an answer.

You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him close, pushing him back into you. “Fill me up, Frank. I wanna feel all of you. Please give it to me,” you whimpered. His release triggered another for you, chanting each other’s names surely loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

He stayed inside you as you both came down from your shared high, gingerly flipping you over so he laid on his back with you on his chest. He kissed the top of your head, fingers fluttering up and down your sides.

“What’s on your mind now, Frankie?” You looked up at him through your lashes, mildly terrified of the answer.

He looked down at you with the most adoration you’d ever seen, lifting your chin so your eyes met his in the moonlight. “That wasn’t too soon, was it? You mean so much to me and to Mary. I don’t wanna mess this up. I don’t ever wanna hurt you. You’re the best thing in my life besides Mary, you know that?”

You kissed his chest before looking back up at him, smiling. “First of all, I would argue that wasn’t soon enough.” He hissed as you clenched around his still softening cock inside you.

“You’re evil.”

Winking at him, you continued tracing patterns on his chest with your fingers. “Second, that all kinda sounds like you might be in love with me, Frank Adler.”

His hands stopped moving for a second before he responded. “Would you run away if I said I am?”

“Well, I wouldn’t run away. This is my house.” You thought your heart might explode in your chest.

“I didn’t even say it, but I take it back,” he huffed, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“What if I told you I felt the same way?”

He grinned, sitting up to kiss you feverishly on your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips. You could feel him starting to harden again inside you, leading to round two of… well, you lost count.

You ate breakfast and showered together in time for Frank to return home before Mary did, agreeing to talk more later and to hold out on Roberta for a while.

Frank stood on your doorstep, leaning in to kiss you once more. All of a sudden, you heard a familiar meow and thanked God you were dressed and not in your robe.

“Frank, what are you doing here? I thought I’d come see Y/N since I’m not supposed to come home until noon.”

You bit your tongue to keep from cackling. Frank ran a hand over his face, his blissful bubble burst. He was getting you a hotel room next weekend.

#shamelesshoesforchris2021 #maggie's writing #frank adler #frank adler x fem!reader #frank adler fluff #frank adler smut

455 notes · View notes

tsaritza-mika · 2 years ago

Note

Hey, if you’re taking HC requests, how about an MC who loves horse riding and somehow gains a foal as their familiar after the prologue ?

I can~ ^--^

The Main 6 with an MC w/ Foal Familiar

Asra

Immediately brings out all of the hair decoration things. Ribbons, beads, chains, charms, and a few fun hair pigments. That mane and tail is gonna be the most chaotic mix of odds and ends, but in all the best ways

Is so into this sweet little creature and how it just fits you so well

Only gave maybe about a half a second to thinking about how to keep it properly, then he heard just the cutest little whinny and it was right back to admiring them.

Yes, he totally bought some animal safe chalks and has drawn psychedelic MLP cutey designs on their haunch. Yes, he has also done a new one every day, and no, he will not apologize for art

Journeys are gonna be a breeze now that you have this adorable little guy! If they’re cool with it, they can help carry souvenirs from wherever you two travel. Oh yeah, and you can ride them later too!

Is just so happy and proud that you finally found a familiar to match your passion for riding, and that you can now have the same joy he feels with Faust

Nadia

You’ve always spoken of your love for riding, and while she had been planning to gift you a horse of your own, having discovered that one was your familiar is not only better, but now she doesn’t have to hope you’d like her choice to gift you

Honestly, some of your best dates and closest moments have been via horseback, and now with this little one, there’s sure to be more in the future

Blankets from her native Prakra to keep them warm, a comfortable stable to house them, and your own small team of people to help look after them as they grow

Of course after they’ve grown some, it’s only the best instruction to help them get stronger and even more stunning

When they’ve grown, the two of you go riding a lot more. Whether it’s just to get away for a while, or because they need their exercise, there’s nothing quite like the wind in your hair on a clear day to feel free

Her heart nearly melted when she found you sleeping with your familiar after a long day, in the stable she gave to you. You both looked so peaceful and happy, and to know she had a hand in that, lets her be happy too

Julian

Well that’s just fascinating... How exactly does this whole familiar thing work anyway? Is it based around favorite creatures in general, or perhaps the patron in question? Or is there some deeper meaning to all of this?

Still very happy for you, as now your familiar can enjoy your time together even more when they’re old enough for you to ride

Traveling will be a lot less complicated, since now you’ll have your own horse!

Gets along with it fairly well; he’s been around his fair share of horses and foals in his travels, so he’s excited to ride with you in the future

Instantly goes into mental logistics mode trying to figure out how to help you take proper care of it. It’s not like the clinic or the shop have enough room to house it, but he definitely wants to make sure you two stay near each other. And how much does it cost to feed it on a weekly/monthly basis?

His favorite thing is just how happy you two look together. To know that this spindly little foal is able to make you smile like that, it just makes him feel all fuzzy inside

Portia

Adorable, absolutely the best in every way! ...also keeps giggling whenever the poor thing stumbles cause it reminds her of her brother when he was young XDDD

Surprises you by building a little fence around the back of the cottage so you can keep them safe and close by

Absolutely wants to find a way to get Pepi to ride them!! I mean, can you imagine a more majestic looking scene!? And Pepi needs a hat!! They can both have hats!!

Braid party~!! Everyone is braiding everyone’s hair!! ...well, Pepi is supervising, but she’s the best supervisor, so it’s all good

The best at helping you take care of them. She loves nothing more than to help you brush them after a long day; it’s like brushing away all the stress and leaving a shiny, happy coat when you’re done

She could honestly talk riding and horses with you for hours. The way your face lights up, the twinkle you get in your eye, and just... you get so much more life in you when you talk about your passions, and she loves basking in that energy

Muriel

So chill when you bring the foal back to the hut. Before you even mention that it’s your familiar, he just starts building a little shelter for it nearby

Honestly just builds anything and everything you may need to help take care of it. Need a trough? Done. A chest to hold all of the brushes, tools, etc. to care for it? It’s in the corner

Muriel is honestly an undiscovered Disney princess, cause all the animals, even your new familiar, just fuckin’ love him without question.

He gets this cute little smirk on his face when the foal plays with Inanna right outside the hut. Just watching them run around and have some fun, and the fact that they’re such different species but are putting that aside, he just finds it beautiful

Surprises you by hand-making a saddle when your foal gets big enough. Also made sure to stain some of the leather to add some color, and press in some designs and a few metal studs for accent

So happy for you that you have a special connection with an animal friend like he has with Inanna. You’re important to him, and even if he’s never had a connection with many people, he really doesn’t know what he’d have done if he didn’t have Inanna

Lucio

OMG YES!! IT’S SO FREAKIN’ CUTE!! WHAT’S ITS NAME!? DOES IT HAVE ONE YET!? HE CAN HELP IF YOU NEED HIM TO!!

The best thing is how stupid excited he got when he realized that M&M and the foal were about the same size. He kept asking you if you knew for like a whole week, and it would have been annoying if it wasn’t so damn sweet

You’d be lying if you said he didn’t absolutely get them a pair of golden horseshoes

Nothing but the best for them, just like he does for you. He makes sure the best people he can find are hired to help you take care of them, and when traveling on the road, you have the most comfortable blankets, brushes, combs, feed, everything

He’s never really understood the whole... familiar thing, but he does get the feeling of bonding with animals, and since it’s not only adorable, but also a passion of yours, that just makes things even better!

He might not understand all of it, but he could honestly listen to you talk about your love of riding and horse knowledge for hours. Not much out there makes him feel calm, but watching you care for your foal, talking about caring for them and why, it just makes him feel so happy

35 notes · View notes

writewhatyouwanttoread · 2 years ago

Text

Fic Idea: 3

I truly adore the idea of a First Words soulmate au (the first words your soulmate says to you are inked on your skin) where Endeavor burns Shoto's words to shit when he's a baby so he doesn't know what they are. I'm also imagining that all words appear over the heart. But anyway Shoto can see that it clearly used to be a huge block of text because the dark part that used to make up the black words is still present, just burned to shit and very blurry because Endeavor MELTED his baby's skin with his hand. (You bet your ass Rei was PISSED). So Shoto knows that whoever his soulmate is says a LOT of things to him before Shoto gets the chance to respond

Shoto had probably decided that the only way he could tell if someone was his soulmate was to not speak first and then say something odd. So knowing this and wanting nothing more than to connect with this person who's meant for him so he can finally have something to look forward to in life, he comes up with the five most disconnected words in existence and whenever someone rambles at him upon meeting him, he says those five words (imagine like: frog, ashtray, lollipop, sailboat, molecule. This galaxy brained fool.)

Cut to UA. He's first meeting Izuku and our curly haired nerd goes on rambling about how cool Shoto's quirk is, fire AND ice, like holy wow, the things Shoto could do with THAT. Oh BOY does Izuku have ideas and QUESTIONS oh my he just wants to sit Shoto down and pick his brain. And after saying all of this and then getting a little bashful because he realized he was like rambming/muttering at Shoto, Shoto responds with, "Frog, ashtray, lollipop, sailboat, molecule," and promptly breaks Izuku's brain 😆 who's THRILLED to meet his soulmate

They have a cute little exchange that they cut short cause there are other people around and promise to meet up after school.

When they meet up after school Shoto and Izuku both want to see each other's words. Shoto kind of angrily explains about Endeavor burning his words but then Izuku is like, how'd you know to say the thing then? (Cause he'd seen him talk to other people and he'd never heard him say THAT). So Shoto shows him the scar so Izuku can see exactly how much real estate used to be taken up by black skin and explains that he knew that whoever his soulmate was, was going to say a lot of things to him when he first met them so he'd decided not to speak to anyone new first and to have a "code" of sorts to respond with so he knows if they were really his soulmate (this is something a lot of kids try and do but eventually grow out of because it's a pain in the ass so it isn't very common for people to actually choose to or remember to stick with it.) And Izuku is a little embarrassed but also kind of delighted by how smart Shoto is and how determined he was to figure out who Izuku was.

Now it's important to know that if I can fit the three of them together in an idea I ABSOLUTELY WILL.

So.

This is where Shoto asks to see Izuku's words to verify that they're really soulmates.

And this is where Izuku gets really shy and nervous.

Because he has two sets of words and he has no idea is Shoto ALSO has two sets because Shoto’s FATHER pro fucking hero ENDEAVOR melted his child's fucking chest. So he gets all bashful and decides that he really just had to explain.

So he does and then he pounds his shirt up for Shoto and tugs down the band that people traditionally use to keep their words covered while changing in group settings.

There are Shoto's words clear as day.

And just underneath that is, "My name isn't KACCHAN it's KATSUKI! Get it right!"

And Shoto is kind of floored.

Can't imagine that he personally had two soulmates, much less that Bakugou is one of them.

Nonetheless though, the next time he sees Bakugou alone (who he hasn't spoken to yet) he says his list of unrelated words.

And watched in pure surprise and shock as Katsuki's face goes completely blank before he scowls and yells, "You're the fucking reason that stupid shit's on my chest?!"

Cue Shoto, Katsuki, and Izuku figuring their way around a very messy and new relationship and bonding over their mutual hatred of Endeavor

#baku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #my hero academia #au #midoriya izuku #todoroki shouto #fic ideas #fic idea 3 #soulmate au

17 notes · View notes

keilemlucent · 4 years ago

Text

a night less cold

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~7.8k

beta’ed: @hawnks

happy birthday pro hero hawks! who’s ready for a night of dazzling and drinking?

you aren’t.

warnings: soft hawks, sick fic, hurt/comfort, a wittle angst, horny shit, fucking while sick, a wittle daddy kink

...

a/n: happy birthday kei 🎉!!! happy to celebrate with a classic little slice of hurt/comfort and horniness <3 i’ve never done a true sick fic, so here’s a wittle bit of that as well!!!

thank you for reading and enjoying this year, and being here!! i’m endlessly grateful and just :’^) full this day. enjoy loves 💕

|||||||||||

Keigo’s birthday was, historically, quite the spectacle.

It was tradition that his once-budding, now-thriving agency would host a massive, grand party at a local venue, either an upscale club or dimly-lit, luxury hotel. Keigo would splurge his personal funds on the best music, food, and drinks that money could buy. There were popular DJs, the best and greasiest foods he could bring in, not to mention an open bar on every floor of the festivities.

It was quite a press event as well. Paparazzi and reporters would line up outside of the venue for a few quick words with heroes and socialites as they spanned the red carpet, colored like the vibrancy of his wings.

The event thereafter was debaucherous, obviously, according to Keigo, and quite a media circus as well.

And this year, you were going as his partner and date, also obviously.

The year prior, you and Keigo had still been relatively secretive about your relationship, but as you’d become quietly public in the recent months, Keigo was itching to show you off.

...

December 27th, you awoke in Keigo’s massive, soft bed to his soft humming and low coos, one of his more birdish qualities. The floating sound echoed from his chest to your ear that laid snug against it as he ran his fingers slowly around the shell of your ear.

As you cracked your eyes open, you immediately noted that you felt a bit... off. There was a sticky dryness in your throat that definitely hadn’t been there when you laid down the night before, at least not as strongly.

You opted to ignore it, tugging Keigo closer by the small of his back and kissing his naked collarbones.

“Mornin’” You yawned, blinking sleep from your eyes. “What time is it?”

Keigo’s humming seized as his hand moved to run slowly up and down the back of your neck, “Early. Get some more rest.”

Shaking your head, you propped your head on your folded arms, regarding Keigo with a quiet reverence.

He was too pretty, it stunned you, most of the time. Even with a mop of slept-on blonde waves and the blushed lines and creases of the sheets on his cheeks, he still looked like some gracious god carved him from amber and marble. With the sheets pooling at his waist and a smirk growing on his lips, you couldn’t help smile back.

“You’re staring,” Keigo grinned without a hint of ire. “It’s cute.”

“You’re cute,” Heat pooled in your chest. “Happy early birthday, tailfeathers.”

“Why, thank you,” He lit up, wings puffing behind him as he tugged you closer by the waist. “I’m very excited for you to come tonight, you know. I get to show off my cute little dove to the prying eyes of the world.”

“Showing me off? I’m flattered,” You mused, leaning into his heat. “I’m excited too.”

Keigo took a quick pause before tilting your chin up with a single finger, “Are you sure you’re okay to go tonight?”

“Of course!” You beamed, nuzzling into his neck and ignoring any odd aches in your sleepy muscles. “Why wouldn’t I be? Getting cold feet, birdy?”

He rubbed up your spine, dropping a kiss onto your crown, “You were coughing a bit last night, dove.”

That was news to you. It explained your gummy vocal chords.

“Dry air,” It had to be, right? “Just gave me a dry throat.”

Keigo didn’t look fully convinced in the sheets, feathers ruffled and forehead furrowed.

It was easy to smooth it away with a quick pounce, straddling his hips and kissing him breathless. A bit of an early birthday treat, you supposed, as you nipped and sucked down Keigo’s neck, the little jerks of his hips and swallowed groans only spurred you lower, down to his naked collarbones, grinding down on the hardening bulge in his boxers briefs—

Until your throat began to sting a bit too much for comfort.

You turned your head away, covering your mouth with the back of your hand and clearing your throat.

“Dry air?” Keigo asked with a lopsided grin, hands moving from their wide splay on your inner thighs to around your ribs, coaxing you back into the sheets.

“Feels like it.”

You tried to brush off the feeling, though it lingered as the two of you readied for the day.

A shower was had, steam filling the bathroom as you both sleepily washed each other. It was early enough to indulge in some chaste (and not-so chaste) kisses between washing each other in the spray.

Water poured down from the ceiling-mounted shower head, slicking the two of you with heat. Your head laid against Keigo’s chest as he washed your back, gently swaying your bodies with the tips of his wings against the dewy walls of the shower.

Resting against his chest was a comfort, so early. The day was packed, and you both knew it. A bit of respite before the chaos was much needed and incredibly welcomed.

“Are you sure you need to go to work?” Keigo whined, the pads of his fingers dipping into any tension in your lower back. “I’d love to keep my little chickadee by my side all day.”

You sighed, “You know I would, but I’ve got that report due today and I think my boss will kill me if I don’t get it in on time.”

Keigo huffed, giving your ass cheek a little pinch. It worked to his favor as you yelped, falling against him. You felt him smirk against your wet hair.

“You could always just quit--” Keigo reminded you, a long-standing offer once more put directly on the metaphorical table.

...

It had become quite obvious that Keigo really loved taking care of you. It helped him in unspeakable ways that he had trouble describing to himself, let alone you. As much as he was considered lazy and brash by his colleagues, regarded as too much and too blunt, often to the point of detriment, he was nothing if not goal-oriented.

He just wanted to rest.

Keigo would give the world to just laze around, preferably and hopefully with you, as much as he could while still being a hero. Trouble was, he wasn’t built for loafing about. His years at the Commission truly altered the way his mind and body ran, permanently. It wasn’t something he was ever very explicit about with you, or himself for that matter. All of the brutal training— disgustingly long days with late nights and early mornings, harsh tests or endurance and stamina, and the pushing and pushing of his speed had a great side effect.

He couldn’t rest most of the time.

His body wouldn’t, couldn’t, as with his mind. Whether he was at home lounging or taking a break at his agency, he was always on guard, mentally sprinting for the next moment, and often without cause. It kept him constantly poised, tense, and on edge.

But when you came into his life, that slowly began to change.

It didn’t happen too early in your relationship, the beginning was slow after all. Lots of dancing around each other's feelings, banter and flirting which both of you equally were equally enraptured by the other, but assumed it was all baseless.

It hardly was.

Slowly as you too became closer, sharing space and nights twisted in the sheets together, early morning cups of coffee and little experiences Keigo never imagined he’d have with another person, something started to shift.

When you started to settle in his life, Keigo had something to take care of and god, did it calm him. His need to be constantly moving, doing something, was still there, but when you were settled in his arms, he had something to do— many things to do.

He had the privilege of taking care of you.

You were far more than an outlet for his energy, that would be a complete reduction of your relationship and you, but it was one of the many things Keigo was so grateful to you for.

...

You sighed wistfully, “Maybe someday, love. For now, I gotta get out of here, I don’t want to be late. And neither should you.”

“Aw, babe,” Keigo pouted, grabbing your ass with two hands, massaging at the residual suds in time with your budding whines and gasps. “Not even time for a quickie?”

“Later,” You slapped his hands away playfully. “Have you ever heard of ‘birthday sex’, love? You’ll be getting plenty of it.”

Keigo gave you one of his signature golden grins, cupping your jaw for a few more desperate kisses before you both exited the shower.

He helped you towel off, starting from your ankles to your thighs, lips trailing with promises of the coming day. They stretched up to your ribs, little nips placed on the underside of your breasts before he dried them. You watched his wings ripple and shift with each brush of his lips, obviously getting off on the treatment as much as you were.

Fuck, did you adore him with your whole heart.

As you both dressed for the day, Keigo checked in, ever attentive.

“I’ll pick you up at your place this evening around eight, be dressed and ready for me, okay baby? We’ll go right to the venue.”

You nodded, reminded of the gorgeous (and pricey) outfit he’d treated you too, fitted just right and coordinating perfectly with his own outfit. It was the perfect match, absolutely ideal to show yourselves as the pair you were.

“Perfect, I’ll be ready, done up and waiting,” You glowed with the thought, ignoring the twinge of pain, deep in your muscles.

Nothing a cup of coffee and a few extra stolen kisses wouldn’t fix.

You dressed quickly, rushing off to the subway as Keigo took off from the wide balcony of his apartment to prepare for his own day of preparations for the celebration.

The party would begin that night and wear into his birthday, midnight sounding would mean a round of shots for anyone who could still stand and a jeering of cheers for the beloved number two hero.

Meanwhile, you and your still-dry throat scampered off to work.

...

It proved to not just be a dry throat.

As you sat down at your desk to begin your shift, a little twine of dread had wormed its way into your ribs as an odd exhaustion settled in your bones.

As your shift began, a myriad of symptoms arose.

The air felt cold, too cold for what you were used to at your office. The cardigan your kept handy hardly did anything to keep out the unnatural chill. You took note of it with a few quick glances at your coworkers, all looking perfectly temperate in blouses and dress shirts.

The knowledge did nothing to soothe your chattering teeth.

Next came the headache, a pounding behind your eyes as snot began to ooze from your nose, a little pile of tissues filled your small trash bin. In an act of desperation, you chugged your water bottle, hoping it would quell some of the stabbing pain that was stuffing your skull.

(It didn’t.)

After your vision went double looking at your monitors, you relented and laid your head on the flat of your desk.

The dry throat you’d had worsened next, little coughs turning into hacking, dry wheezes that couldn’t be ignored in the din of your workplace. You covered them the best you could, trying to put on your best face as you slowly and painfully completed your due report.

All the same, someone must’ve spotted you and your poor state as you were sent home shortly after.

It wasn’t even noon yet.

You tried to rationalize on the subway ride home.

Admitting to being sick meant that the entire night would be beyond fucked. It was supposed to be a perfect night to let loose and be open with your love, not one spent curled in bed and aching.

You had time, you resolved, you could fix this.

Despite the fact that, even in your winter coat, you were fucking freezing, you convinced yourself that you weren’t sick.

You couldn’t be.

The ache in your muscles was from sleep deprivation and fatigue, obviously. The winter air was the source of your burning throat and eyes. Getting sick wasn’t an option.

As you journeyed home, you made a vow to simply sleep off your ills.

Nothing a little rest couldn’t fix.

You practically kicked the door to your apartment open, the sound hardly phasing you as your ears had begun to ring on and off on the ride home. You haphazardly dropped your purse to the floor of your small foyer, kicking off your shoes and padding to your kitchen.

You rapidly tried to think of some remedies while still hardly acknowledging any potential illness.

Your first thought was tea, something herbal with lemon and honey tossed in to soothe your throat. The kettle was set and bubbling as you gathered your supplies for a cup that was sure to soothe you in full.

The kettle clicked off, and you poured the steaming water into your cute mug (a gift from Keigo) with shaking hands, ignoring the trembling and hyper-focusing on making sure the stream was in the correct place.

Was pouring water always this hard?

You ignored the thought.

Rather, you wandered off to the bedroom, praying the heat from the mug in your hands, scalding, would warm your shivering body.

(As if you weren’t already burning up.)

You hardly had sense left in you by the time you crawled into the sheets, ruffling them as you attempted to burrow in any heat they could provide. The chill of the unused bedding seeped into you as your teeth chattered. You couldn’t be bothered to even change from your work clothes, the thought of any nakedness sending a new sharp shiver through you.

You just needed a quick nap.

As much as you wanted to sip away at your tea, your mind was going fuzzier by the minute. You sank into the mattress, steaming liquid (and the night’s coming events) forgotten as you fell into a fitful sleep.

...

Your dreams were sordid.

Vivid colors and loud sounds, hardly making any sense, but still, hardly fear into your cooking brain without reason. It blended into some horrid mix of sensations that had you tossing and turning in your sheets.

...

Tap, tap, tap.

...

The sound made your ears burn.

You groaned, shoving your pounding head into the pillow.

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

...

It had to be a sound from the inside of your skull, it had to be with how much it thundered, the pounding in your head going harder with each sharp knock.

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

The sound was more insistent now, oscillating between your dream and reality.

The pressure in your forehead wasn’t helping.

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap—

...

“What the fuck,” You audibly cursed, pushing yourself out of bed and awake as you could be. Holding yourself above the sheets, your swallowed back bile as your stomach rolled with new nausea.

Your gaze drifted to a red glow in the room, your alarm clock—

8:34 PM.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Tap, tap, tap, tap—

As fast as you could push your aching muscles to move, you slipped from the bed, whimpering at the chill of the cold floors and air. Shakily, you wrapped a throw blanket around your shoulders and padded to the living room.

Your stomach dropped as Keigo waited outside the balcony door.

His party was starting within the hour.

You hadn’t changed, showered, or done any sort of primping. Your outfit that was still hung on the back of your bedroom door, untouched and cold.

Tears sprung to your eyes as you slowly made your way to the door, trying to avoid Keigo’s gaze.

Your shaking hands undid the latch.

You swallowed back as many symptoms as you could, mind racing to figure how quickly you could get ready and if you even could. Makeup could be completed quickly, messily more than likely, but maybe Keigo could touch it up for you once you arrived. Your hair was a nightmare, but maybe you could tame it with a few extra minutes—

As the door opened, you stepped to the side, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. Maybe, Keigo wasn’t upset with you, maybe you could get your shit together in fifteen minutes—

Keigo’s hands went to his hips, wings tight to his back as a frown settled over his pretty plump lips.

“... You’re not ready?” Keigo asked, stating the obvious as you rubbed a hand over your face.

“N-no,” You cursed at your voice strained and crackled. “Give me a few minutes, I fell asleep.”

You prayed your excuse would be enough.

“... For how long, birdie? Are you okay?” Keigo hardly sounded upset, concern lacing his tone more than anything else.

You turned away from him, trudging back towards your bedroom. It was possible to get yourself ready quickly, it had to be you. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin his birthday with your tardiness (and sickness.) The fear spurred your steps to speed—

But Keigo was always faster.

He caught your wrist, tugging and spinning you back towards him. His hands, fingers wrapped in pretty gold rings, landed on your shoulders. His pretty ambers scanned you down, feathers ruffling as his frown deepened.

“How are you feeling?” Keigo asked, open-ended while his index and forefinger pressed to your pulse point, and his gaze flickered to the fat watch on his wrist.

“‘M fine, Kei’,” You murmured, weakly pushing his hand away. “Let me go get ready, I’ll just be a minute or two, promise.”

Keigo hadn’t looked angry since he’d stepped into your apartment, but his expression was souring in a new way. He pulled you close by the waist, lips finding your forehead.

You both stilled.

You knew you were fucked, with his lips so gentle and sweet against his forehead. He knew you were far worse off than you were letting on.

“Dove,” He murmured, voice low and kind. “How do you feel?”

“S-stop,” You pushed at his chest weakly. “I’m okay, I don’t want to fuck up tonight.”

That made Keigo act, the air practically shifting as he scooped you up in his arms, throwing your arms around his neck as he carried you to your bedroom. Setting you onto the sheets, you wrapped your blanket around you tighter, stomach rolling and head burning with its ache and new tears pricking your eyes.

Keigo kneeled, settled between your knees, cupping your cheeks and continuing to look you over.

“Do you have a thermometer? I think you’ve got a fever,” Keigo asked, tapped your chin towards him when you tried to look away from him.

Ignoring his question (you had to), you bit your lip, “I don’t want to ruin your night, Keigo, ‘m sorry.”

Your words slurred as little tears began to drip down your burning cheeks. You rubbed at them with your blanket-covered fists.

Honestly? You felt pretty pathetic. The fever rotting your skull was definitely affecting your judgment, but you didn’t have the sense to care or rationalize.

“Little bird,” Keigo softened, concern coloring his features. “You don’t need to worry about that. Can you tell me where your thermometer is? Maybe some pain medicine too?”

You shook your head, little tears turning fat as you lowered your head.

Keigo audibly winced, something you hardly caught with your sickness was swarming.

“Baby, don’t cry now, it’s alright,” Keigo assured you, pushing your hands away to take the task of wiping your tears away, the chill of the rings on his fingers almost burning. “Don’t worry about the party.”

“But, K-Keigo,” Your voice wobbled as your wrapped your hand around his wrist, over his watch. “You need to go, your party is soon.”

It was.

Your gazes both slide to the alarm clock nearby, the time steadily creeping towards the party’s official start time for the press. There were already scheduled interviews, you and Keigo were to be photographed and ogled at, him shining and dazzling in his signature, blunt way.

You were supposed to be on his arm—

Except, you were feverishly between his palms, crying steadily at the thought of missing the evening.

“Dovie, I need you to listen, please,” Keigo urged you, rubbing heat into your cheeks (even though they were already scalding). “You don’t need to worry about the party. That doesn’t matter. What does is that you’re obviously not feeling well—“

“I’m f-fine!”

It was meant to be a strong declaration, something that would convince Keigo that your feverish state didn’t impede your ability to attend, or at least impede his.

“You’re burning up,” Keigo reminded you.

Your tummy tossed and you shook your head.

He just kept talking, “I’m staying until I know you’re alright—”

That got you even more upset, shaking your head hard and fast even as your skull throbbed.

“No, n-no, no,” You pleaded. It was one thing for you to be unable to attend the highly-anticipated evening, it was entirely another for Keigo to be late to his own party, let alone fucking miss the event— “N-no, absolutely fucking not, ‘Kei. You can’t—”

You wept into his hands as hot tears trailed from the corners of your eyes to drip down your jaw.

...

Keigo’s heart hurt.

His hands shook, more-than-likely imperceptible to you as you sobbed in his hands, soon in his arms, as he sat on the edge of the bed to pull your burning body into his lap.

He tucked your face into the crook of his neck, playing with the hair at the back of your neck, unable to ignore how hot and clammy your skin remained, despite how you shivered and how your teeth clattered together.

You were sick and worked up, that much was for certain.

His wings flexed, the muscles bound-up and more tense than he would’ve liked. Worry laced his expression, his actions, as he tucked your sweaty and tear-matted hair behind your ear.

“It’s okay for you to miss tonight, there’ll be more times to do things like this together,” Keigo quietly assured you.

“But it’s your birthday—”

“That doesn’t matter to me more than you,” Keigo’s breath hitched with his own honest, full-chested admission. “It’s just a night, chickadee. I’m far more concerned with you.”

That unignorable itch and urge his chest flared, hot and bright as your fever and burning cheeks. He squeezed around your body, wishing he could absorb a bit of your hurt as his lips brushed over your temples.

“N-no,” You pulled away from him, shaking your head. “You c-cannot get sick. No.”

Keigo raised an eyebrow at your teary expression.

“I can do whatever I’d like,” He tilted his head sympathetically. “Which is why I’m staying—”

Your expression brightened in the same breath as you narrowed your gaze. Something about the heat swimming in your skull made things tilt and shift perspective.

Why is he being so insistent?

“Are...” You swallowed around your words, hands folding in your lap. “Are you trying to get out of going to your own event?”

...

That might’ve been too much.

Even your feverish mind could tell you were being stubborn to a fault. The thought of Keigo taking care of you while you were obviously not doing well warmed you in an actually good way.

And it seemed you were expressing that same brand of honesty that Keigo was so known for exercising.

You weren’t even sure how you deduced such a claim, but still, you’d ask, perhaps fanning the flame—

“... Looks like you caught me, little bird,” Keigo chuckled, something sad and low, chin tucking over the top of your head.

You remained silent for a moment, head ringing.

“... You don’t want to go tonight?” You asked, softer this time. The rings on his fingers clicked as he drew absent-minded shapes over your clothed thighs.

“It’s complicated,” Keigo admitted. “I’d much rather spend the night with you, here.”

You were both silent for a while.

The last of your tears ebbed away as the thoughts of the evening of dancing and drinking faded. The outfit in its garment bag was forgotten as your hands buried into Keigo’s hair.

His hands played with the hem of your shirt, a reminder that you’d never changed after work, too sick to even crawl from your business casual dressings.

You broke the silence, voice crackling with a suppressed cough.

“The thermometers under the sink in the bathroom.”

...

Keigo returned after nestling you in your sheets.

He had helped you from your work clothes, gently helping pull off and away your sweat-dampened blouse and bottoms. Gentle hands and nimble fingers slipped you into some sleep clothes, sweatpants and a long sleeve Keigo had left at yours some time ago. The slots that had been cut for his wings felt far too breezy, but the comfort of the garment being his far outweighed it.

You wrapped yourself in it as you burrowed into the sheets.

Keigo sat on the edge of the bed, tapping the tip of the thermometer against your lips, “Open, angel.”

Your lips barely cracked open, just enough for the device to be slotted on the top of your tongue. A few of Keigo’s feathers trailed him, bringing a lukewarm rag that he sat on your forehead.

You shivered and let out a whine, giving him a frown as the thermometer beeped.

101.8 °F.

“That doesn’t sound good,” You muttered, burying yourself deeper. “‘M sorry again.”

“No need to apologize,” Keigo assured you once more. Despite the practiced steadiness of his tone, his wings were half-unfurled, poised and tensed. Nervousness radiated from him in a way that he prayed you were too out of it to pick up. “I just want to make sure you’re alright, dove, promise.”

You gave him a shallow nod as Keigo portioned out a dose of cold medicine into the provided cup, scrutinizing the line on the cheap plastic.

“Why did you plan such a big night if you’re trying to get out of it?” You asked, fisting the duvet. “You don’t need to, do you?”

“I don’t,” Keigo sighed, awed by how quickly he admits his inner workings to you (yet again.) “It is a fun night, a lot of fun. It’s just...”

He trailed off as he set down the sickly green bottle with a sigh.

Why did he plan such a night if part of him was goddamn ecstatic about the opportunity to bail on it?

“A lot. It’s just a lot.”

“... You don’t even like drinking much, do you?” You asked, rising up from under your many blankets despite your shivering.

Once, Keigo did. His birthday was a time to get drunk on a bottle of too-expensive liquor on the floor of his too-expensive, too-empty penthouse while trying not to simmer in the loneliness that had become his norm.

“I used to,” Keigo said, a bit too wistful. “The party was just an excuse to not do it alone.”

It was far more fun to get shitfaced with a crowd of folks who saw him as beloved, even if they didn’t really see him. It was more entertaining to dance the night away, fill his room with pretty, tight cunts, one after the other than lay on the cold hardwood of his own floor, ignoring the clawing despondence that he couldn’t avoid as he got another year older—

Either way, alone or not, fucked up or fucked or not, he always felt rotten the next day.

“I don’t want you to be alone,” Your words were soft, maybe just for yourself, but Keigo caught them all the same. “I’m right here.”

“I know,” Keigo placed the little cup to your dry lips. “That’s why I don’t want to go.”

...

You swallowed down the medicine, grimacing at the taste and gagging. Your rolling stomach didn’t appreciate the flavor, bile rising in the back of your throat.

“Easy now,” Keigo ran a hand through your hair as another cup was placed to your lips. “Sip.”

You wrapped your hands over Keigo’s as you all-but chugged the water, even if your stuffy nose made it taste dusty and odd.

“Good girl,” Keigo beamed, pressing a kiss to your shoulders, urging you back into the sheets. “Can you scoot for me?”

You nodded, purring with the praise, and shifted only enough for Keigo to join you in the covers, perfectly windswept, styled hair mussed up against the pillows, outfit rumpled without a care otherwise.

You both wrapped up the other in an instant.

Keigo was warm, as were you, even if you couldn’t feel it. Your body ached with each movement, your limbs growing heavy with the syrupy medicine.

“You should go,” You told him softly, speaking quickly before Keigo could disagree. “Just for a little bit. Fashionably late, and all. See some folks.”

“... I don’t want to leave you like this,” He squeezed you, burying his face in your hair.

“I’m just sick, Keigo,” You frowned, little fingers pulling at his jaw so you could meet his gaze. “I’m not dying.”

Sure, you felt like absolute shit at that moment, but the tug of slumber was beginning to outweigh your symptoms.

“Are you sure?”

You didn’t miss the tremble in Keigo’s tone.

“Of course,” You rubbed your fingers over his stubbly chin and soft cheeks. “I’ll be right here, always.”

And both of you shared a quiet moment of understanding.

...

Keigo stayed until you fell asleep, though it didn’t take long at all. Your head laid on his chest, hot puffs of breath pulling from your parted lips as Keigo took to running his hands wherever he could reach.

Your body was hot, hot enough to worry him, but he placated his protective urges (as much as he could) with the sound logic that you, indeed, did just have a fever, albeit a bad one.

Keigo left you with an array of feathers, settled around and up against your body, Your cheek was tucked into one of the broader ones, filaments remaining silken and soft. It would be a bit overwhelming, the sensation of you and your body with the crowds, paparazzi and sounds, but he’d manage.

He arrived fashionably late with a golden smile, and left unexpectedly early before the hour even struck midnight.

The turning of his birthday would be shared elsewhere.

...

You were right there, just as you promised when he returned.

The rustling of fabric and feathers is what roused you, half-way and through your medicine-induced haze.

There was the quiet sound of your dresser opening and shutting as your eyes recognized.

Your vision was blurred, but you still outstretched your palm to Keigo. He was still changing, pretty outfit gone, rings and watch discarded onto the top of your dresser. He stood nearly naked, just in boxer briefs and his entirely unbuttoned dress shirt.

“Pretty bird,” Your voice slurred as Keigo graced you with a lazy smile. “Get over here.”

“On my way, chickadee,” The smile in Keigo’s voice glowed, even in the dark of your room. “Thank you.”

“Love you,” You responded, hand falling onto the duvet, not nearly as uncomfortably cold as before. “So much.”

Keigo’s breath hitched with the common affection.

Sleepily, you wondered, “Has anyone told you that on your birthday?”

You didn’t realize you’d said it aloud.

Keigo was by your side a moment later, feathers returning to his full wings, body warm and comfortable and purely home. You snuggled into him, pulling him close with a hand around his waist, pushing weakly at the tension bound up in the fat he carried above his waist.

His wings rustled, settling half-extended over your mattress and undoubtedly drooping to the floor. Your legs tucked around his, his hands settling over your spine to count each of the vertebrae like it was the beats of a song only you too sang.

Keigo tried his best to ignore his own stray tears. It was easier to cry around you, either because he was so damn comfortable around you, or that you were a bit of a crybaby yourself.

Either way, Keigo was grateful for it.

You, in your feverish state, only felt Keigo in all of his rawness. The swell and crest of his breath, the tempo of his heart, the gentle hands and precious pressure he doled out against the tension you bore in your body, all were familiar but blessed no matter how many times you were graced by him.

Keigo wasn’t an angel, he was better than one, wings aside.

You cracked your sleep eyes open, palms around his jaw, cupping and caressing as was your rite.

Your gaze drifted just beyond Keigo to the glow of your alarm clock.

12:03 AM.

“Happy birthday, love.”

Keigo didn’t reply, only giving an audible swallow and a shaky swallow. You can feel his tears soak your fingertips.

You kissed them away, licking at the salt with the tip of your tongue, relishing Keigo’s little giggles, all for you and him to share, just the two of you.

“I adore you, you know,” you admitted, though he already knew so well. “I love you, Keigo. Thank you.”

Maybe a few of your own tears fell as you pressed your cheek to his, kissing up and down his jaw, nosing at the beat of his heart under his jaw.

Keigo layered love onto you, little repetitions, desperately returned, and shared affection. ‘I love you’s and sentiments too soft and important slipped between the two of you as sleep pulled you both under.

...

The morning came with the graces of a gentle, orange sun.

It stretched over the sheets, slipping in, uninvited but not unwanted, from around the thin curtains you had hung.

Once more, you awoke to Keigo’s little coos and hums, though he was far less awake.

Before even opening your eyes, your lips found his own. Both yours and his were parched from sleep, sticky breath hardly pleasant, but neither of you minded.

You swallowed a surprised chirp from him, rolling your hips into his own.

Keigo stilled you with a gentle hand on the back of your thighs, gripping the fat and flesh with enough force to have you purring.

“Mornin’, chickadee,” Keigo broke the kiss only to murmur against your lips.

“Hi,” You pulled away to smooth your thumbs over his cheeks, still sticky from the night before. “I love you.”

And Keigo lit, matching with the rays that filled your room, “I love you too.”

You beamed back, not bright in that same way, but luminous all the same.

Keigo took you in breathlessly, the simpleness of you leaching all air from his lungs and unwanted thoughts from his mind.

If Keigo was like the sun, all gold in the morning and red in dusk, then you were every other star that wreathed the moon. You didn’t see it, not the same way he did, but then again, only Keigo had the privilege of seeing the way how you exchanged pieces of yourselves with each other without fear.

The tenderness of that morning was far, far better than anything he’d had in years past. He missed nothing about the pounding of his skull from the liquor the night prior, the insistent need to piss out his sins and the clingings of at least a dozen perfumes from the night before.

Even that hot and fast burning ecstasy couldn’t compare to sharing the morning sun with you.

“How do you feel?” You asked, breaking Keigo from his quiet worship.

Keigo snorted, pressing his lips to your forehead, gauging the temperature, “I should be asking you that.”

“Sweaty,” You tugged on the long sleeve and bumped one of your now-naked thighs into his own. “I think my fever broke in my sleep.”

Thank God.

Keigo reached around you, rustling around for the thermometer, and placing it under your tongue.

99.3 °F.

“Looks like it,” Keigo let out a sigh of relief. “Do you feel better?”

“Mostly,” You nosed your way back under his chin for all the extra affections you could give. “Just tired.”

“We’ll have an easy day then,” Keigo replied, feathers rippling at the idea of a slow, free day in bed with you.

“But it’s your birthday— “

Keigo cut you off with a finger to your lips and a sly smile, “And I would like nothing more than to spend it, like this, with you.”

You inspected his face for any signs of dishonesty.

There wasn’t even one.

“Okay, then let me rephrase,” You huffed a little. “But what about birthday sex? I really was prepared to have you cum down my throat at least four times today.”

Keigo snorted again, flitting laughter bursting from his lips as he pulled you to his chest and smothered you with kisses.

“There’s absolutely nothing stopping us from fucking until the sun goes down, other than how you feel and what you’re up for,” Keigo reminded you, his hand drifting up to your ass and squeezing. The way you jolted into him with a little whine had Keigo already wanting. “I can make it nice and easy for you, little bird.”

You shuddered, hands drifting to the roots of his wings and teasing the small, silken feathers, “Why don’t you show me?”

Keigo needed no other command.

...

You knew Keigo could be so greedy with his touches. Some nights he’d take and take and take. He’d pull from you anything and everything you’d offer, leaving you gasping and stuffed-full with a happily broken mind. He loved stealing your breath with the pounding of his hips, stealing the sounds from your lips as they came, though you gave them freely.

That day didn’t feel like that.

“I want to be so deep in you, dovey,” Keigo purred, cooing from the back of his throat. His hand slipped between your clammy thighs. “Feel you all over.”

The pad of his index fingers ran over your clothed clit, teasing and wanting in the same moment.

“Y-you can have me any way you want,” Your voice had already gone gooey and high, pitching up and sweetened. “Wanna make you feel good.”

You rubbed at the apex of his wings, where the little feathers bled from the roots of his wings to the base bones. A low groan rumbled from his chest, one of your favorite sounds. Nothing got Keigo weaker than little pets and play to his wings. They were so sensitive from years of touch solely by his own hand. They were coveted, a part of the holy structure of his body that he hardly allowed anyone else to fully take in unless necessary, before you anyways.

That was your privilege.

Keigo slipped your panties off, the cotton fabric discarded and forgotten. A moment later, your shirt followed, leaving you bear to him.

There was still the impulse to cover yourself. Keigo loved looking at you, his pupils wide as they traced over your curves night after night like it was the first time he’d seen your skin and curves.

That morning, the feeling fell away quickly as you urged his own scraps of clothing off.

He was already hard, leaking from the thought and sight of you. You were hardly different, Keigo’s fingers teasing the lips of your sex and pulling away wet.

Without shame, he popped the finger into his mouth, sucking away your slick like it was nectar.

You tipped onto your back, pulling Keigo with you. One hand remained buried and busy with his wing while the other slipped between your bodies, wrapping around his pretty cock and stroking slow.

He gasped into your mouth as you thumbed over the head.

Smiling against his lips, you nipped and sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, enjoying your little moment of control.

Keigo stole it back quickly.

Carefully, he grabbed the back of your thighs, pushed your legs up and out. Before you had a chance to so much as whimper, Keigo slid a finger into your cunt, then two, curling against the bundle of nerves.

Your back arched, your grip on him tightened as you gasped his name like the last note of a hymn.

And Keigo wanted more.

“Tell me if it hurts,” Keigo panted, breathless and strained as he adjusted your legs over his shoulders, bearing his weight on his arms that went to brace around your head.

“C-can I have a pillow?”

“For your hips?”

“Uh-huh.”

Keigo gave you a flurry of kisses, a wordless ‘of course, I want to make you feel so good’. There was an art to wordless communication and Keigo was a goddamn masterful craftsman.

The pillow slipped was your lower back, tilting your hips up and cushioning them from whatever treatment Keigo laid upon them.

With a shaking hand, he removed yours, guiding it to his wings as he lined up his cock with your cunt and fucked into you in a single fluid motion.

The burn of it was enough to have you gasping, scrambling to hold onto his shoulders and tuck your face into his neck with a whine. Keigo soothed you without question, barely rolling his hips are you adjusted.

He settled over you close, chest brushing yours, the cold of the bars through his nipples always a shock, even when you expected it.

“M-more,” You whined, needy and sweltering with a tug of his wings. “Please.”

Keigo hummed, palming one of your breasts with a twist of your nipple, “But, you beg so pretty, little bird. What if I want to hear more? It is my birthday.”

It was, and Keigo wanted to be so close it hurt. He hardly had the patience for teasing, but when your voice got so syrupy and desperate, he couldn’t help but tug at your soon-to-be-fucked mind.

Truthfully, what Keigo wanted most for his birthday fucking was to stuff you so good and full that your tummy bulged under the flat of his palm. He wanted his cock to brush and bruise the deepest parts of you until all you knew was the chant of his name as you came so well and hard that you fucking blacked out.

But, he had to be tender.

Had to be.

“P-please!” You tilted your hips for more of him as if Keigo wasn’t already filling you up fully and perfectly. “Anything you w-want, please.”

“You mean it, little bird?”

“Uh-huh.”

And sweetly, perfectly, Keigo fucked you into the mattress.

There was some reverie in it, there had to be with the way you so gently carded through the hyper-sensitive, rounded feathers that stretched onto his back. It juxtaposed the way he railed and ruined your cunt, slick sticking your inner thighs and his pelvis with each thrust.

Each motion went so deep, you swore you could feel it in your gut. Maybe, that was why Keigo was fucking you so close, with your bodies pressed together and sharing air and heat so closely, it was hard to tell where another experience ended and another began.

You didn’t expect the first time you came, your eyes stretching wide as your crest drowned you well and sweetly. You buried your face into Keigo’s now marked and bitten neck and let out a choked sob as your cunt fluttered around him.

Keigo took a moment to slow, as he only peaked with you, but he wasn’t ready to be done with you yet. His hips barely moved in you, just nudging deeper, and deeper—

“More,” Greedy, such a greedy little whore. “M-more, please.”

Keigo chuckled, pushing some of his sweaty waves back, “Think you can handle it, little bird?”

Your face, hot with pleasure and eyes wide with want, went determined as you tugged on the wings, nails raking through the unpreened feathers.

“Fuck me like you mean it, K-Keigo— Daddy.”

Keigo stilled, raising an eyebrow, ignoring the flaring of hot, yellow fire in his chest, “You really want to push that button so early?”

“Were you planning to fuck me like a pussy the rest of the morning?”

Where did your fire come from? You were sure, maybe it was the leavings of your fever, but you didn’t care. You wore your smitten grin as Keigo’s gaze darkened, pupils so fat and focused, the citrine of his eyes was swallowed whole.

Keigo slapped a hand over your mouth, squeezing around your jaw, and fucking into you once, sharper and deeper than he had before. Your vision nearly went white, body fucked over-sensitive once but still begging for more.

Greedy, greedy, greedy.

Gluttons, the both of you.

As per your request and Keigo’s deepest wants, Keigo fucked you so earnestly, deeply, and without holding back that part of you feared the bed would break.

Each cant of his hips had your tugging at his feathers, the twitch of his cock inside more than enough of a sign at how fucking wild your touch was making him. That wasn’t to mention the filth that rolled from his lips, pants and whines and groans and words—

“Daddy’s little bird just gives so well, d-don’t you?” Keigo’s probably bruising your cervix, but you didn’t have the mind to care. “Letting me t-take whatever I want?”

You nodded behind his palm, half shrieking as his hand slipped between your bodies, rubbing your swollen clit, hot pressure building up in your gut by his hand, just as you liked.

As much as he took, he gave.

It only took a few more moments for you to sob behind his palm, clutching as your shoulders as you came so hot and bright and well, your vision sparkled and went black.

With the way your cunt clamped down around Keigo’s cock, he came just behind, filling you so, so good. His hand flew to your tummy, eyes rolling back in his head as he felt himself fill you with fat cock and thick cum.

You gasped as you came down, panting and clutching at Keigo as he did the same. You hushed each other with des[erate kisses, quiet praises too precious and sacred to be written, but that could certainly be felt in the air that remained conjunct between the pair of you.

Keigo rose from your body, thighs shaking in time with your own as he lowered your legs on to the sheets.

You were both messes, covered in sweat and spit and sweetness, but neither of you cared.

“You okay, little bird?” He asked, soft in the aftermath, kissing the damp apples of your cheeks.

“Uh-huh,” You gave him the best type of fucked out smile. “Can’t wait for more, it is your birthday.”

“And...” Keigo found himself speaking without thinking. “You’re here for it? All of it?”

He knew that, did he really need the reassurance—?

“Every bit of it, lovebird,” You tacked on the nickname, rising on your undoubtedly sore hips. “Every moment.”

And he couldn’t be happier about it.

||||||||||||||||||

thank you for reading!!!! 💕

ko-fi

#salem writes #hawks x reader #hawks #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #hawks imagines #hawks x you #mha x reader #my hero academia #happy birthday birdie <33 #heart full #its been a weird couple of days BUT!!#here #some good soft smut and just #goodness #and hurt too bc :)#anyways enjoy lovies!!!

854 notes · View notes

fruitcoops · 4 years ago

Note

After the wedding, coops plays the newly wed game and Marlene is just like 😍😍

The newlywed game is so cute and Neil Patrick Harris did one with his husband a few years ago that is just adorable. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“Welcome back, Lions!” Marlene said with a broad smile. “After a brief summertime hiatus, we’re back with Captain Sirius Black and our brand-new winger, Remus Lupin. Do you guys want to tell the viewers why you’re here?”

“You threatened us,” Remus said.

“Also, we got married,” Sirius added, holding up his left hand.

“Oh, yeah, that too.”

Marlene rolled her eyes as they turned to her with matching grins. “You two are hopeless. You’re here today to play the newlywed game, which will test how well you know each other. I’ll be asking each of you eleven questions that the other person has already answered, and you get a point for each answer that matches. Does that make sense?”

Remus gave her a thumbs-up. “Crystal clear.”

“Loops, because you slandered my good name earlier, you’re going first. I hope your husband wins.”

“Oh, I will,” Sirius promised, kicking the leg of Remus’ chair lightly as he tapped his cue cards on his thighs. “Alright, first one: what did we do on our first date?”

“Pizza at Sid’s,” Remus answered.

Sirius held up a small posterboard with ‘pizza’ written on it. “Correct! What was the last thing we bickered about?”

Remus thought for a moment. “You answered these today, right?”

“Yeah, honey, we did this in adjacent rooms,” Sirius laughed.

“Right, sorry. In that case, it was parallel parking because there weren’t any spots outside the building.”

“Correct! If our love life was a candy bar, what would it be?”

Remus frowned. “What?”

“If our love life was a candy bar, what would it be?” Sirius repeated with a devilish smile. “What, you don’t know this one?”

“Shit, what would you say to this?” Remus muttered. “Um…hell, I don’t know, a Snickers?”

The smile slipped off Sirius’ face. “Are you kidding me?”

“Did I get it right?” Remus’ eyes widened when Sirius held up the posterboard with ‘Snickers’ scrawled across it, and pumped both fists in the air. “Ha! I don’t even care who wins now!”

“Good, because it’s going to be me. Next question: If I could describe you in one word, what would it be?”

“If you could describe me?” Remus exhaled slowly. “That’s tough. Uh, chatty?”

“What?” Sirius asked through his laughter. “Chatty?”

“It’s true!”

“I said ‘sweet’!” He showed the board to the camera and they both burst out laughing. “Jesus, who do you think I am? Just rolling up to Marlene like, ‘hey, did you know my husband talks a lot?’”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“You’ve only made it through four questions,” Marlene informed them, clearly amused.

“What is your weirdest quirk?” Sirius read off the board.

Remus paused. “Like, what do I think my weirdest quirk is?”

“I think so. It threw me off at first, too.”

“This is not grammar correction hour,” Marlene called.

“I think my weirdest quirk is that I can’t end stairs on my left foot,” Remus said after a moment. “I’ll skip a step if I have to.”

Sirius hummed. “I didn’t even think of that one.”

“What did you put?”

“Pre-game superstitions.”

“Hypocrite,” Remus said with a grin.

“Perhaps. Who is my celebrity crush?”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure you want me to tell them?”

“It’s not that weird!”

“Freddie Mercury.”

“That is a little odd,” Marlene agreed when he showed the board.

Sirius looked between them in disbelief. “Why?”

Marlene snorted. “Because the person you married is basically the exact opposite.”

“There’s a difference between thinking someone’s hot and wanting to marry them.”

Remus pouted slightly. “You don’t think I’m hot?”

“Oh my god,” Sirius groaned. “Next question. What is my favorite book?”

“The Hobbit.”

“Nope.”

“Three Musketeers?”

“Nope.”

“Winnie the Pooh?”

“What the fuck?” Sirius laughed. “It’s To Kill A Mockingbird. Marlene, can I skip the next one?”

Remus leaned closer. “Well, now I’m curious.”

“Which of us would win at Trivial Pursuit?”

“Oh, baby, I would wipe the floor with you.”

He sighed heavily. “Yeah, I know. If I needed a lift at 3 am, who would I call?”

“James.”

“Yep. What is my silliest fear?” There was a brief pause. “Really? I thought this was one of the easier ones.”

“There are several to choose from,” Remus mused. “But I think you would say your silliest fear is dishsoap bubbles.”

Sirius held the final board up. “Unfortunately, you’re correct. They’re all slimy and gross. Last question: what is our favorite activity to do together?”

A smile twitched at Remus’ lips for half a second before he regained his poker face. “I would say hockey, but I think it’s actually road trips.”

“Incorrect,” Sirius said smugly.

“We literally had this conversation two days ago. What did you put down?”

He flipped the board around. “Movie night. You’re not entirely wrong about road trips, but bonus points helped you win last time, so I’m never doing that again.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Remus waved him off, as if he wasn’t having the time of his life. “Okay, number one: who is the better driver?”

“Me,” Sirius said without hesitation.

“Indeed. What did I wear on our first date?”

Sirius bit his lip in concentration. “You wore jeans and a sweater. Your green one, right?”

Remus glanced to the camera, clearly stunned, then held up his board. “Yeah, you nailed it.”

They high-fived and Sirius leaned back in his chair, grinning. “You thought you were so smart with that Snickers answer, huh? I know things, sweetheart!”

“Who is the tidiest?” Remus continued with a faint blush on his cheeks.

“Me, but you clean more often.”

“True. Who is the funniest?”

“You.” Remus shook his head and Sirius gave him an offended look. “You’re way funnier than I am!”

“We’re funny in different ways,” Remus conceded. “You make really good puns, but I’m just sarcastic and people think I’m kidding. Who does the most cooking?”

“You, for sure.”

“Marley, these questions are too easy. You’re rigging the game against me.” Remus shot her a teasing glare as he set the used boards on the ground. “What is my ideal date?”

“Going to the bookstore and staying there for at least four hours.”

“I don’t know about four hours—”

“Re, I love you, but that is exactly what we did last weekend.”

Remus hesitated, then nodded. “Fair. What is my favorite junk food?”

“You are an Oreo hound. We have, what, three boxes stashed in the house right now?”

“Five,” Remus muttered.

Sirius’ jaw went a little slack. “Where? I only saw three in the pantry.”

“I’m not telling you, you’ll steal them!”

He turned to Marlene with a disbelieving look and she shrugged. “Hey, I’m just here to moderate. This is reality tv for me.”

“If I was a Disney princess, who would I be?” Remus asked before things could devolve further.

“Belle, obviously.”

“Hell yeah. What do I think your best feature is?”

“Again with the wording,” Sirius sighed. “Hmm. You’re always messing with my hair.”

“It is very soft,” Remus agreed. “But that’s the wrong answer. I think you have the prettiest eyes.”

His cheeks went pink. “Really?”

“Babe, I’ve told you this a million times,” Remus laughed.

“Still.”

He shook his head and moved on to the next question. “Which of us has the worst handwriting?”

Sirius frowned. “Neither of us has bad handwriting.”

“Which one is worse than the other?” Marlene clarified.

“You, maybe?” he guessed. “I really like your handwriting, though.”

“Yeah, I put myself for that one. It’s kind of a weird half-cursive with a bunch of loops. Which is fitting, I suppose.” He shrugged. “Ready for the last one? You’re totally going to get this.”

“Don’t jinx me.”

“What was our last date, and when?”

“Last Thursday,” Sirius said. “We got takeout and watched The Princess and the Frog.”

“Did you sing along?” Marlene asked.

“Of course we did,” Remus said with a playful scoff. “Alright, who won?”

Behind the camera, Dorcas cleared her throat. “Remus, you got seven out of eleven correct, and Sirius, you scored a grand total of…nine.”

Sirius whipped back around to face him. “I told you I would win!”

“I’m crushed,” Remus said drily, though he couldn’t keep down his smile. “Oh, no, my husband knows me too well!”

“Did you guys have fun?” Marlene asked.

“We always do.” Sirius slid the boards across the floor to her before looking up to the camera. “Thanks for joining us today to see my victory at last, Lions! Be sure to like and subscribe to Lion Pride for more content like this.”

184 notes · View notes

gaiuswrites · 4 years ago

Text

King of Cups || Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Judgement

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | seven

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: Things have changed, things have stayed the same.

Word count: 3.7k~

Rating: Mature

Warnings/tags: e m o (i can't stress this enough), illusions to mental health issues (?), emo, mature themes and language, EMO, family-trauma related angst, emo

Notes: I wanted to completely cut Din's perspective out of this chapter to emphasize the reader's pov. Hopefully it tracks? Big lovey-dovey shout out to @pedros-mustache for bonking me in the head with a proverbial pool noodle. ily friends. Be kind to yourself. Cheers x (gif credit: @bestintheparsec)

This is fine. You’re fine.

You’re okay with this.

You’re okay

You’re

You think, perhaps, the sting is made worse by the normalcy of it all.

You think, perhaps, that this stabbing—this splinter in your gut, prodding prodding prodding—would not be so sharp if it were different between you—if things were different; if it were clumsy and cumbersome and mauled. Ruined.

But it isn’t; it’s the same. You and Din and his boy, his adi’ka—it’s ordinary. Evergreen.

You suppose you should be grateful—grateful your dynamic hasn’t shifted, hasn’t sullied any. Grateful you still have your Mandalorian piloting you home. Grateful you have his foundling to keep you company, to keep you preoccupied.

But you feel false.

It’s as if you slipped into an alternate reality—one where you and Din touched each other, held each other; one where he buried his frustration to the hilt in your womb and you moaned his name like your tongue was formed for it—and then were snapped back to this one here—this nothing, this void—without anyone taking note of your absence. Because your routines—those domestic tableaus—remain unchanged. They are well-oiled and operate regardless— undeterred, succinct.

The days start the same.

You set aside a warm bowl of fruit and porridge, steam rising to greet him as it fans over his helm. Good morning.

Exiting the fresher, you find the dishes washed and dried—the towel folded neatly into a square beside them. Good morning.

You return the bowls to their shelf, nestling them right next to your unfulfilled expectations and embarrassing desires—butted against your silly, silly heart.

“Anything good?” he asks one night, passing through the galley as you thumb through the news on your holopad

You nearly choke on it—your throat closing up tight around the casual banality of the question. Because that’s what you two share now: you have things. You have quips and lines and normal and none of that disappeared after you’d made each other unravel not four paces away, pressed there against that wall—the wall that stands there even now, a tall and mocking reminder.

You wonder, if you sealed your ear to the bulkhead, could you still hear yourself? The symphonic reverb—your girlish pants, Din’s hoarse rasps— trapped there in the seams of the steel siding like the grooves of a record, to be played and played again.

“Never,” you say, like you’ve always said, and do your best to flash him a grin—the one you’ve worn before, the one, perhaps, you hope he likes. The one where you go dimpled and dove-like.

And then he makes for the cockpit and you are left

without.

The afternoons stretch familiar, too.

Din flies the ship and you watch the child—steering him clear of disasters and shenanigans the best you can. He tugs gentle at your hair; you nip at his little hand until he’s dissolved to giggles—the same the same the same, all of these acquainted patterns continuing to revolve on. Din lands and prepares for his hunt—banging around the belly of the ship, gathering weapons and ammunition and rations—and your eyes skitter along after him, following his hulking figure as he steps past where you and Munch are seated, heading towards the mouth of the Crest.

Din.

You’re half afraid of what it will sound like now— what it will feel like, bruised and jagged in your mouth. Like it doesn’t belong there, like it has no right laying claim to your tongue.

“Din,” you call hurriedly to the span of his broad back as he leaves the ship, your spine straightening out of the chair. You say it; you speak his name and to your surprise find it is none of those things—none of those ugly fears, none of those roughened gums. It’s worse.

Because scarier still, it comes out cotton soft; it comes out comfortable and true. It tastes like home maybe — like a version of home where people could come and go and laugh and not be frightened. Where they could hold little children in their arms and sleep and breathe and be and say I am here with you. Here we are. How special. I have chosen this. I have made this with you.

Din.

His shoulders tense and his feet stop short, just before the apex of the ramp. He turns to you, slow. Controlled.

“Good hunting.”

Din looks at you, the heavy umber of his eyes settling on your own, and he freezes—stock-still, his blood and muscles and bone thickened to paste, rendering him motionless. His dark gaze scans over you—the wisps of hair dancing around your face, the sag of your shirt lolling from your shoulder, his son in your lap. You bounce Munch on your knee and he gurgles out a quieted hum, glancing between his surrogate parent and you.

“Thank you,” Din replies, stilted, and you think you discern a subtle scrape of his modulator; you think you sense his lips part, pained and breathy, the cusp of another thought—of more, anything more— corralled by his sense of duty, hampered by the armor that plates him.

You untangle the boy’s claws from your hair and slip your fingers around his wrist, waving his green hand in a delicate to and fro.

Goodbye, it says. We’ll be right here when you get back.

He stays. For another glimmer of a millisecond he remains, sunlight pouring in through the opening of the Crest—shining off his beskar, off the gunmetal grey covering his body—focus trained on you both—before he pivots, cape whipping behind him as Din vanishes like he does without fail—away. Away.

To vapors.

Three days of this—three miserable days. Seventy-two suffocatingly mundane hours.

You figured this would be easy. You figured it could be as painless as you chose to make it. You were two consenting adults, after all—you both had needs, and you both met them—and you thought that this would be simple.

What you failed to take into consideration however, is that Din Djarin is anything but a simple man.

Because he is all these things, paradigms and paradoxes, coiled into one very tightly wound warrior—a warrior who can dismember a blaster just as effectively as he can sop up baby vomit from his foundling’s brown robes—one handed, no less. In flight. Din is all sharp edges and smooth silver, he’s cold and calculating and roguish and endearing and you can’t grapple with the dichotomy of him—with all these mismatched pieces at odds with themselves that somehow fit perfectly, inexplicably together.

You were naïve to assume you could go back—as if you could unremember the shape of his fingers as they filled you; as if you could make yourself forget how needy he bowed against you, how hot and thick his cock rested in your palm when he pitched his hips and released his desperation in white streaks along your skin.

And when your mind isn’t wholly consumed—smothered with the crushed velvet sin of that time-capsuled memory—it’s tortured in other ways, with crueler techniques. Pointed. Specified.

You watch him. You wish you could look away, but there isn't anywhere else to look. There isn’t a corner you can escape to, nor an inch of the Crest that isn’t him—isn’t an emblem of him, isn’t an extension of his personage.

You see him - day in, day out - interact with the child and Maker, it’s so precious and he’s so damn good. Two arms, cradling Munch snug to his chest—you know their strength now, you know their weight—and you observe as Din holds this boy with the same hands that unmade you—that molded you like clay and parted your wet heat. You see this man—so stoic, so reserved—dote on his child in a way that you never were, and bit by bit, it breaks you.

You caught them napping together once, compressed in that dingy of an alcove by the refresher. Your feet halted in their tracks at the sight and you held your breath—he’s a light sleeper, you didn’t dare wake them—Din’s helmet nodded to his chest and the kid, open-mouthed and adorable, nestled into the crook of his arm.

It made you want to sing. It made you want to cry.

You had to pry your boots from the floor and force yourself to move, to scram. You had to be anywhere else but there, ogling like a spectator at a zoo, nose smushed against the glass, watching the last of some great species simply be as nature intended—calm, drowsy, at peace.

You busied yourself then, scuttling preoccupied about the Crest but the image never evaporated, it never faded—it dogged you, tacking itself onto your psyche: the picture of him there, Din and his boy, holding on to one another like anchors while they slept, and you can't resist drawing the question.

Is that what it’s supposed to look like, to feel like—a father’s arms around your shoulders? Is that what safe looks like? Is that what family is?

You wouldn’t know. You cannot recollect the glow of it—the memory of such an embrace—on your own skin, and isn’t that what makes it all so achingly befitting, so inevitable. As if the Moirai—those weird sisters—spun this string of fate tailored to your being and plucked it like a harp, curating a melody for you and you alone.

Because you see Din give what you never got, and it makes you want. You want him. You curse yourself for it, but fuck you want him—every sordid part of you is tugged and pulled in his direction. You want him, magnetically, you want him you want him you wa—

And Din is fine. A Mandalorian pillar, undisturbed. He is bedrock. This is the Way.

And while he withstands the weathering, you crumble beneath it. It's eroding you. Like tides crashing monotonous against a beaten shore, you are in granules—and these morsels, ever-fine, they nick you - gritting - sanding you raw, abrading you rugged.

You thought you could ignore them at first. They were but lace whispers behind your ear—muted and tickling and just far off enough to deflect. But with each passing moment those feathered words grew loud—rude and vocal and you couldn’t keep them out. Round and round, they wriggled into your most tender swathes of skin. Skipless. Poison.

He regrets it.

He didn’t want it.

He didn’t enjoy it.

He didn’t want me He doesn’t want me I’m not wanted

These thoughts, insistent and pervasive, they are sewn into the bed of your mind one ugly seed at a time. You water them. You don’t mean to, you don’t wish to cultivate these errs but you know they will fester and grow with or without you. So you tend them—watchful, you garden—and they push up through the soil, sprouting weeds, choking the dirt. Marring it fallow.

But you’re okay with this. You’re fine—look at you, you’re fine.

///

The planet of Jelucan is bustling.

It’s got a pulse of its own, energetic and thrumming; there’s an electric current charging the cool air. It’s alive. This place is alive. Towers and buildings are chiseled into the cliff faces of the mountains framing the city, reaching tall towards the pale blue sky overhead. The capital—Valentia, you learned—is almost offensively busy— far busier than any of the backwater territories you and Din had explored in the recent months. There’s so much noise, it’s cacophonous— speeders dodging pedestrians milling about the throughway, engines whirring and backfiring, merchants arguing, hawking foods and goods from their windowed shops and brightly colored stalls, politicians and well to-dos seemingly gliding above it all as the common rabble of varying species and origins mingle and mix.

You suppose it reminds you of Coruscant. You suppose that makes you nervous.

Because you’ve been holed up in his ship and flitting through the Outer Rim, seeing the stars and the moons and planets and there’s just so much life—everywhere, everywhere— this galaxy is chalked full of it; it’s spilling over the sides with it all. And Maker, these months have felt like an adventure; they’ve felt like a fantasy, like an escape. You’ve eloped, caught in the whirlwind romance of it all—shirking your duties, your career, absconding from your shitty, shoebox of an apartment back home.

But Valentia is all too quick to ground you, all too eager to remind you of that blissfully forgotten reality; it taps on its wristwatch, gutting you with a look:

your time, my dear, is up.

The cobbled pavement underfoot is stony and industrial, each step landing too hard, too hollow—like everyone can hear your chipped heart pounding through your boots—exposing you, coloring you a liar.

This is fine. You’re fine. You’re okay with this.

You’ve been telling yourself that—bargaining, pleading—attempting to manifest into fruition; speaking it to yourself like a chant in hopes it’ll stick—in hopes you’ll fall for the ruse.

But it’s as if each dulled footfall shakes the rust from your neglected truth, revealing all too plainly that no. No, you’re not. You aren’t.

You and Din do not walk in tandem—his gait is longer, and he’s a stride in front of you—but there isn't so much space between your bodies that his presence doesn’t distract you completely, doesn’t eat you up and make you fizz. Your gaze could latch anywhere in this packed, teeming city, and you would still see him. Still feel him—on the nape of your neck, in the wet pink of your cunt. Throbbing reminders of the man that has knotted himself so seamlessly into your world.

You shake your head, locks rustling— as if you could rock him loose from where he clings on to your mind— when you feel a spindled hand at the wing of your back. Startled, you spin towards the touch.

There’s a woman— she isn’t human, but judging by her general appearance she’s some species close to it. She’s old. Whittled. Her maroon eyes are clouded, her silvered hair swooped back into a low bun, wiry frizz haloing the crown of her head.

She’s petite, but it looks wrong— inorganic. Too knobby, she’s all elbows and boney angles where she shouldn’t be. It’s as if she’s shrinking, right there before you. Time, pressing her in— pressing her down.

She’s lived a life in the sun; she wears lines on her face, deep and haggard, and her skin is pulled taut around her skull like hide stretched over a tanning rack. She’s ancient, prehistoric.

She’ll probably outlive you all.

An alien language you don’t recognize comes spilling fast from her thin mouth. You can’t decipher the string of words rushing like river water, the current unstoppable, but you garner she’s insistent; there’s no misconstruing the earnest fervor in her voice. Something woolen is held tight in her grasp—a blanket, by the looks of it, intricate and pleated—and she’s handing it to you like her very existence depends on it.

“I’m sorry,” you begin, confusion evident on your brow, “I’m sorry I don’t—”

She continues speaking, urgent and desperate and pleading—gesticulating as she offers you the throw, the shiny golden thread needled into the patchwork winking in the afternoon sun. The child slung at your side chirps curiously, saucer-large eyes following the shimmer of the fabric.

“I’m sorry, it’s beautiful - really - but—”

You’re jobless and blowing through your savings at a blistering speed. You barely have two measly credits to rub together; getting supplies is tricky enough as is. Purchasing something as ornate and superfluous as a blanket was out of the question. Munch coos sadly, a twitter of his voice, and it ruptures your heart to say it, “I can’t afford something like this.”

The bell on the door to the adjacent shop grabs your attention, producing a Twi’lek as it opens. She’s younger, perhaps around your age, and her lilac lekku bob as she bounds over to you.

“Hi,” she breathes, lips pulling back to reveal a charming smile as she glances between you two. “Everything okay?”

Before you can get a word out the elder resumes chattering, incensed as she addresses the other store attendant—you think it might be Old Corellian, some archaic dialect you presumed died out eons ago, predating the Battle of Yavin by centuries.

Just how old is this woman?

There’s a hushed exchange between them—the Twi’lek’s attempt at the language proving stiff. Her cadence is clunky, nowhere near as smooth and lilted as the other woman’s, but they must come to some sort of a conclusion, because they face you—two sets of eyes, burrowing blinkless into yours. The girl takes a small half step towards you, speaking - blessedly - in Basic.

“The blanket. It’s for you. She wants you to have it,” she explains, “for the little one.”

A twitch notches your eyebrow, gaze flickering back to the older woman, something akin to a crinkled smile worn into the grooves of her wizened face. She nods, fervent and solemn—a seriousness set in the desperate way she bores into you, urging you to understand. To see.

More foreign utterances pass between them— the younger woman listening to her soft vowels and gritting consonants for a beat, before continuing to translate.

“She says, you have a beautiful family. It makes her—” the Twi’lek pauses, choosing her next words, “yearn for the past, to reclaim time.”

Family. A beautiful family. A beautiful—

You consider telling them.

You consider correcting her, informing these kind souls that you’re only temporary. A fleeting thing— like the seasons, autumn dying cold into winter— you’ll leave when the time comes. You consider telling them that that’s the arrangement you agreed to, and that you’ll be delivered back to Coruscant and deposited off at your doorstep with nothing but a cheap, portable cot and an unused blaster the bounty hunter had unfathomably given to you once upon a time. That they’ve mistaken you for someone else—someone important to Din and his foundling. Someone relevant. Someone permanent.

But, you don’t.

You don’t rectify their assumption. Your silence betrays you, confirming the lie, and you grant yourself to revel in it. Like slipping into silk sheets, you roll in the luxury of the imaginary sentiment— letting it swaddle you, comfort you, kiss your skin.

And just for a moment, maybe you allow yourself to believe that this is real: the three of you, a perfect band of misfits; entwined together, fated and star-crossed.

A family.

“She hopes you know that what you have is special. She says, she hopes you hold onto them—never let go. Never.”

Fuck.

Can they hear it? Can they hear the way parts of you fracture like slate and quake to the asphalt in shards? Can they see the shiver in your knees—how your nails dig into the rough tweed of the satchel hung long beside you?

You steal a trepid glance back at Din who has since stopped and stands idle in wait—there in the middle of the lane, a single stone splitting the sea of people passing through. He’s unreadable, his visor illegible. He appears statuesque, arms immobilized in plaster by his sides—inhuman under all that effacing steel as life moves in flurries, eddying around him.

The kid babbles, snapping your focus off the Mandalorian and returning it to the two women. They adorn their sincerity openly, as one would a badge, extending the blanket to you—you, a perfect stranger.

Shit. Tears prickle the wells of your eyes. There’s something lodged in your throat— a canary in a cage, batting violent against its bars. You attempt to swallow it down with an ugly gulp, but it provides no relief. This emotion you’ve leveed—your joy, your pain and embarrassment, your desire and need—it swells in you, threatening to slosh over. You blink it back, keeping it confined safely behind your lash line.

“I—thank you,” you manage, looking between them. Awed and humbled, you accept their offering, handling it with the care of something holy—something sacred—and drawing it to your chest. Immediately, Munch latches a claw into a drooping corner of the woven material, a happy hum sounding from his droll grin. “Thank you,” you murmur again, reverent and breathy, reversing away from them—refusing to drop their gaze until you must—before finally righting yourself and walking on.

You’re shaken. You’re shaking.

And it is on shaky feet that you meet Din some steps later, pausing once you arrive next to him. His helm shifts; you register the sweep of his eyes roving over you—the burn of them along your shoulders, sloping down to the blanket folded against your breasts, slipping lower to his adi’ka sitting in the satchel at your hip. He’s clutching at the new token, dipping the edge of it into his tiny mouth to teethe.

And then,

he lifts at the wrist, orange glove tips raising - reaching - towards you. Din takes the hem of the quilt between his fingers experimentally, massaging the feel of the fabric—his knuckles brushing the exposed skin of your arm, searing into your flesh like a hot iron, lingering there mesmerizingly.

It’s the first he's touched you. It’s the first he’s touched you since, since—

His hand drops, hinging back to his side.

“Ready?”

His modulated voice crackles indiscernible and your stomach leaps to your neck. Are you breathing? Kriff, you’re not sure. You have to check—deliberately drawing in a gust of chilled air, the rush burning your lungs as you suck it down. With a nod of your head, a placid smile glosses over the shudder of your features, dousing the singe of your nerves.

“Ready.”

///

You think about that old woman later that day, and the many days that follow, her visage marked with centuries and regret and history. Life, evident in the spider’s web of wrinkles engraving her. But there was love too, clearly wormed into the lines of her face. So much of it— almost too much for a galaxy this hard and war-torn. The things she’s possibly witnessed: the atrocities, the devastation, the loss.

The wisdom she has gained while all of those she’s ever known succumb to the inevitability of age, as her past decays around her. The knowledge she absorbs while she withers—while time does nothing but skip by. Blameless. Forever onward.

In your dreams that night, she appears in front of you like mist rising off a lake, astral and ephemeral— there, but not. Haunting you, inescapable wherever you fix your eye. The woman nods silently. She’s mouthing something to you, but the words never come.

You understand.

tags:

@girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @pedros-mustache @djarrex @djarinsbeskar @bookloverfilmoholic @keeper0fthestars @misguidedandbeguiled @bookishofalder @helmet-comes-off @grumpymuffinmama @niiight-dreamerrrr @spideysimpossiblegirl @janebby @greatcircle79 @gracie7209 @thatonedindjarinfan @altered-delta @email2ash @stevie75 @shegatsby @onebrownoneblue @sammysdaisy @uniquebiscuitmongerdonkey

#din djarin x reader #mando x reader #din djarin x fem!reader #mando x fem!reader #Din Djarin #Pedro Pascal #star wars fandom #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin x you #mando x you #din djarin x ofc #mando x ofc #king of cups

138 notes · View notes

silhouetteofacedar · 4 years ago

Text

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 20: Nattduksbord

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

This means something; Mulder can feel it.

This signifies a shift in their relationship; a step forward, from platonic partners to a romantic couple. It’s a shared experience that has the potential to change their dynamic forever. Years of trust, fighting together against a common enemy, seeking the truth… it could all come crashing down today, in a shopping mall in Woodbridge, Virginia.

They’re going to IKEA.

Summer is on the rise, and the humidity is close to stifling as they buckle into his car. Scully’s wearing a little striped t-shirt, capri pants, and sandals, revealing sky blue painted toes. For a disorienting moment Mulder wonders if he’s going to develop a foot fetish. Probably not, but Dana Scully could make even the most vanilla of men want to do crazy things.

“Do you have your shopping list?” Scully asks as he starts the car.

He pulls the folded scrap of paper out of the chest pocket of his white t-shirt. “Right here,” he replies, eyes darting over to her for one more look as he holds out the list.

She takes it, catching his eyes momentarily. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?” she asks.

I want to suck your toes. “You look nice today, that’s all.”

“Oh. Well, thank you.”

Scully can probably tell he’s desperate for her; she can read him like a dog-eared, yellowed paperback. He’s simultaneously grateful for her sharp instincts and embarrassed by his carnal desires. He hasn’t gotten laid in four years, and he fears he’ll be too eager when the time comes. As it is, he can barely believe she’s let him have even the smallest glimpses of her as a sexual being. She’s intoxicating, and he’s dizzy with the knowledge that this beautiful, brilliant, downright edible woman actually wants him. Him, a mortal man of aliens and bad ties and a porn collection that’s gradually becoming least seventy-five percent redheads. A man without a bed.

Hence their Saturday morning pilgrimage to the shrine where all new couples journey to find furnishings, low prices, and themselves.

“So, we’re looking for one tall bookshelf, a locking filing cabinet, a bed, and two night tables,” Scully reads. She refolds the paper and reaches across him to tuck it back into his shirt pocket. “That’s clearly not all going to fit in this car,” she notes.

“I’ll get the bigger stuff delivered,” he says.

It’s only a twenty minute drive from Mulder’s place, and they have the air-conditioning on. Mulder is starting to relax; it’s been a long time since he’s had a partner, in the domestic sense, and he’d forgotten that it makes the mundane more bearable.

Scully clears her throat almost imperceptibly. “I’m proud of you, by the way.”

“Really? Why?” Mulder asks.

“You managed to get rid of a lot of stuff,” she says, turning up the dial on the car’s air conditioner. “And organization is very clearly not your strong suit, so progress should be acknowledged and celebrated.”

“Yippee,” Mulder deadpans.

“You know, it’s odd; we’ve known each other for all these years and I never asked… why don’t you have a bed, Mulder?”

There it is, the question he knew would come up at some point. He clears his throat, grips the steering wheel a little tighter. “I, uh… I lived with someone, around ‘91. Another agent, actually. We were together for a while, and then one day she took some assignment in Europe and that was that. I got rid of everything that was hers, and that, uh, included the bed.” Technically our bed, he thinks. He winces. He’s never talked to Scully about Diana before, and he wonders if she’ll be upset that he was withholding such a large piece of personal information.

Scully is quiet. “I’m sorry,” she says softly. “That’s… I didn’t know.”

“I’m sorry I never mentioned it,” Mulder says. “It’s not like it’s some big painful secret. I just… don’t really think about her anymore.”

“It’s alright,” Scully says. “I think it’s best for these kinds of things to come up naturally. And… I was dating someone when we met,” Scully confesses. “We broke up as soon as I got back from Bellefleur.”

Mulder looks at her quickly. “Really? Why?”

She furrows her brow. “Multiple reasons, but primarily I realized that this job, my assignment, was bigger than I’d anticipated. And the things you and I went through together, the things I’d seen… when I was honest with myself, I didn’t want to be tied down to him. To have to go home and have this man ask me how my day was, as though he could ever understand even half of what we do.”

“So you chose the job over him,” Mulder muses.

“In essence… I chose you,” Scully points out. “Whether I knew it then or not. I’d never be able to turn my back on you.”

Mulder exhales slowly. He’s strangely moved.

“Take a left at the next light,” Scully prompts softly. “And yes, I do realize the irony in breaking things off with a man because of his normalcy, only to continue trying to date so-called ‘normal’ men.”

Mulder shrugs. “No, it makes sense. Maybe he just wasn’t right for you, but the next normal guy could be, right?”

“Right,” Scully sighs. “Einstein’s definition of insanity. Doing the same thing over and over again while expecting different results.”

“I’ve been led to believe that being with me is another type of insanity,” Mulder points out. “And objectively, I can’t disagree.”

“You do make me crazy,” Scully agrees, voice low. “But that’s not always a bad thing.” He feels her small hand squeeze his thigh. “And I fully intend to return the favor.”

Mulder lets out a quiet groan, hands sweaty on the steering wheel. “You planning on giving me some roadside assistance, Agent Scully? Because I’m gonna need it if you keep doing that.”

She removes her hand, tucks her hair behind her ear. “I didn’t do anything,” she says innocently.

“Uh huh.” He pulls into the IKEA parking lot. “Well, we’re here. You ready?”

“As ready as a person can be for a labyrinthian furniture store on a muggy Saturday,” she replies.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Mulder says from his spot on the bedroom floor, surrounded by scattered pieces of a ‘HOLLEBY’ bedside table. “These instructions are useless and-” he flips through the booklet, “-thirty-two pages long, Jesus.”

Scully doesn’t respond; her eyes are glued to her own manual as she assembles a drawer from the second of the two nightstands. “Shh,” she hushes him softly. “I’m concentrating.”

“How have you managed to put any of these pieces together?” he asks, scooting across the floor to her. “There aren’t even words, just vague illustrations.”

She has a screw between her lips as she lines up two of the wood pieces. “I took wood shop in high school,” she says around the metal pin. She removes it and inserts it into a pre-drilled hole. “I guess that was some kind of preparation for assembling flatpack furniture?”

“That’s adorable,” Mulder says, rising to open a window. The room is stuffy with the day’s heat, and his t-shirt is glued to his back. “Do you still have any of the things you made in class?”

“The step stool in my kitchen,” she replies. “And my mom might have some things I’ve forgotten about.”

He casually strips off his sweaty t-shirt and tosses it in the laundry basket. “Remind me to look at that stool the next time we’re at your place,” he says. “Also I’m gonna order a pizza, you interested?”

Scully looks up at him then and is seemingly surprised by the absence of his shirt. “It’s hot in here,” Mulder explains, almost defensive.

“Oh, I’m not complaining,” Scully says, eyes shamelessly traveling his torso. “And I’m always interested.”

“Are we still talking about pizza here, or…”

“Make my half one with everything, please,” she says, attention returning to her project.

“Wait a minute,” he says, dropping to his knees next to her on the carpet. “I’m not done here.” He leans in and presses his mouth to the juncture of her neck and shoulder, tasting the salt on her skin. How she can still smell so good on a sticky June day, he doesn’t know; but he wants to lick her entire body.

“Mulder,” she sighs, putting down her screwdriver, “You’re distracting me.”

“That’s the idea,” he says, lips wandering up her neck and behind her ear. He flicks his tongue against her earlobe. “Forget the furniture, honey,” he says, all hot breath and lust. “We don’t need it for what I have in mind.”

Suddenly she’s facing him, looping her arms around his neck. “I’m doing this for you,” she purrs. “Do you think I like putting together IKEA furniture? No one likes it, Mulder. It’s like a multidimensional jigsaw puzzle.”

He pulls her onto his lap. “Oh, but I think you do,” he says, nibbling her ear. “You like being capable Doctor Scully, in charge of things… showing me what those hands can do.”

She leans in, licking his full lower lip. “Not everything is about you, Mulder,” she says, pressing a scorching kiss to his mouth. “I’m just doing my coworker a favor.”

“Is that what they call this nowadays?” he asks, hands clasping her hips as she grinds down on his lap.

She shuts him up with a kiss, the furniture and pizza forgotten.

#god this took me FOREVER #lol I’m busy freaking out over my second covid shot okay don’t @ me #my fic #fmcr #xfiles #txf fic #fox mulder closet romantic #msr #they go to ikea

88 notes · View notes

chibinekochan · 4 years ago

Text

Obey me! They are your penpals

Loosely based on a request for you having a penpal but this just gave me more ideas.

Your penpal is one of the obey me boys but neither of you knows.

Leviathan

He just started this since he saw it in an anime somewhere.

I mean talk about old school right?

Well, he really gets into it not much later.

He loves hearing about human culture and you both have so much to talk about.

His letters are more like books.

Levi just always goes off a random topic about some anime, game or idol group.

He even does small little doodles for you.

It does bother him to have to lie to you about some things, like being a demon and all but it can't be helped.

Levi honestly wishes to get closer to his penpal but he can't just go to the human realm and he is sure you wouldn't like him in real life.

When you come to the devildom you think that your penpal is human and so you just write that you are an exchange student in a different country.

So it does take some time for you both to figure it out.

I mean of course it seems odd to both of you that your penpal has so much in common with the other but it doesn't really click until you see Levi writing one of his novel length letters.

You are surprised and then do a lowkey face-palm, since you honestly should have seen it right away.

Levi is equally surprised, mostly due to the fact that you aren't running away screaming from him, honestly it's a daily miracle.

He is very happy that he can finally see his penpal and hey you are also friends.

Levi is pretty glad that he overcame his fear of being in some sort of love triangle, since he is crushing pretty hard on his penpal and on you.

So now where you are the same person Levi doesn't feel like he is cheating anymore, crisis averted.

Mammon

You became penpals a pretty long time ago, when you were still a child.

So to Mammon it was always like having a cute little sibling.

One that actually adores him and that believes him.

Mammon always loves to hear your little updates and he melts every time you add a little gift to your letter, like the snowflake you made for him after he told you that it doesn't snow in his home country.

His letters are usually short but it's clear to see that he cares and he often gives you advice and encouragement.

Over time your letter exchanges become more irregular.

Mammon is sad about this but he knows that you are getting older and you can't write forever to him.

It makes his heart ache but he hopes that you will be okay, even without big brother Mammon to help you.

When you come to the devildom, honestly, it's a lot to take in and as much as you always enjoy writing, your penpal life just kinda gets in the way.

On top of that, you now have Mammon to give you support when you need it.

Somehow he reminds you of your penpal, despite his tsundere ways.

One day you notice that Mammon is a bit wistful, you wonder why and then you see something vaguely familiar.

It's a small felt plush toy that you made, you are surprised to see it and ask Mammon how he got it.

Soon you both realize that Mammon is your old penpal.

Mammon was sad this entire time about losing his penpal but here you are.

He gives you a big hug.

Of course now your relationship has changed but Mammon doesn't mind that part at all.

Asmodeus

He always liked getting letters from his admirers.

Asmo keeps these letters in a huge box and reads them from time to time.

Then he has the idea to woo someone just with his words.

In the end you become his penpal.

Asmo resists the urge to send his pictures to you many times.

Over time Asmo forgets his original goal, he just enjoys writing to you.

It's funny to him how much these letters start to mean to him.

Asmo waits for them and has a whole routine of relaxing and reading the letter.

He is so glad that he had this idea.

He never thought a relationship built from words could mean so much to him.

As much as he would like to meet you he also doesn't really want to change the type of relationship you have with each other.

He is also scared that you might not click in reality.

He is pretty content with this.

Then you come to the devildom and become fast friends with Asmo.

Since it just feels like you've known each other for ages.

You talk for hours and just have a ton of fun.

One day Asmo tells you about his penpal and how much he enjoys the letters, he even shows you one.

Right away you admit that it's your letter.

Asmo finds this hilarious.

How can you make him fall for you not just once but twice?

Asmo wishes to continue your letters, since it's just so enjoyable for him.

You agree, since it's equally important to you.

Lucifer

It started more or less accidentally, by sending a letter to the wrong address.

Your reply made his day and so your conversation continues with letters.

Lucifer is starting to really enjoy the exchanges.

He can just write about whatever he wants and you don't judge him at all.

It's pretty relaxing for him to be able to be so open to someone.

He has to change some details of course but it's so refreshing.

Your perspective on everything just feels really nice and he feels very understood.

He finds himself reading your letters many times over, whenever he feels troubled.

Lucifer always takes the evening off when he gets a new letter, since he takes his time reading it.

His brothers are baffled but (ab)use the situation.

Lucifer doesn't realize that his penpal is you when you come to the devildom.

Lucifer soon gets some suspicions after noticing the similarities between your way or writing and your way of speaking.

When he sees your handwriting it's confirmed.

Lucifer isn't sure if he should tell you for quite some time.

He just really enjoys your letters.

When you two grow closer he finally tells you that he figured out that you are his penpal.

You are a bit upset, since he knew for so long but eventually got over it.

Lucifer writing you a very heartfelt apology letter helps.

Diavolo

He was always very interested in other realms but he has very little time as is.

Still, when the opportunity arises, he joins a letter exchange program.

You are the person to receive his letters.

Of course Diavolo has to change a lot of details, so you believe he is just a very busy man.

Diavolo always has so many questions that you come to the conclusion that he must be very sheltered but you think of him as very charming and gladly answer him all you can.

Sometimes you even send him some pictures of your hometown.

Diavolo always loves these very much.

He keeps every letter in a binder and often reads parts of it to Barbatos.

Diavolo often marks the days he got a letter in his calendar.

Usually with a star or a heart.

He enjoys writing long letters to you about whatever comes to his mind.

Especially when there's something funny about Lucifer or something cute like a random kitten that he saw.

His letters always make you smile.

Diavolo can't always reply right away, due to his busy schedule and his long letters but he always shovels an evening free for this.

He is very excited about meeting another human, you have set high expectations in your letters.

Even when you are just a pretty regular human.

You fit right in but now you are also very busy and you sadly have less and less time to be penpals with your mysterious penpal.

It's quite sad, since you always wanted to meet him.

At some point you have to get something from Diavolo and go to his office.

There you see a picture on his desk.

The scenery looks awfully familiar to you.

You take a closer look and see it's your hometown.

At first you don't add two and two together and just casually ask him about it.

After a bit of back and forth where you both take too long to realize that you are each other's penpals it finally clicks.

You both laugh about it and then spend hours talking.

Now your letters turn into a weekly meeting to just talk about whatever.

Beelzebub

It started as a recipe exchange.

Beel is always looking for new meals to make or give Satan a recipe to cook.

Soon the recipes changed into questions about ingredients.

Since Beel uses demon food you have never heard about and you use human food and appliances that Beel never heard about.

Then you two talk about your family's and other random things and soon you are normal penpals.

You both just have fun exchanging letters.

Beel doesn't even notice how much your letters make his day great whenever he gets them.

He always has a huge silly smile on his face.

Belphie shakes his head and rolls his eyes but Beel doesn't care.

Then you arrive in the devildom.

Until this day you didn't really believe that Beel was a demon and just thought that he was trying to be funny or was just strange.

Much to your surprise the devildom is real and everything that Beel talked about is also real.

It's pretty amazing.

After meeting Beel you can tell that he is the guy you have been writing to all this time.

You confirm it rather quickly with him, Beel instantly gives you a big hug.

You are his cooking letter buddy after all!

He is pretty happy to finally meet you.

After cashing your breath, after the surprise hug, you are equally happy.

Simeon

Your letter friendship started with an angel letter exchange program.

Simeon enjoys it, despite being forced into it.

At the start there are many penpals but over time he has less and less people to reply to him.

Simeon enjoys every single letter but somehow he always liked yours the most.

He doesn't even know why.

It just feels like you two click the most.

Simeon doesn't think deeply about it.

After all you are a human on earth.

Some are unreachable on many levels.

On top of that Simeon can't be a hundred percent open with you, since he can't just come out and say that he is an angel.

So your relationship is always a bit distant in the letters, as much as he regrets it.

Simeon knows that your relationship will end someday, no matter how it happens but your letters will stop.

That's fine with him, Simeon just cherishes whatever time you two have.

Then he gets sent to the devildom.

He takes his work very seriously and Simeon enjoys his stay in the devildom a lot.

He still keeps in contact with you but it gets harder to keep up with it.

Simeon has some regrets about it but can't help himself but moving forward.

Then you come to the devildom.

Often you find yourself writing to your penpal about the, pretty crazy, events.

Soon Simeon figures out that you are his penpal.

He doesn't want to end your letter based friendship, but he also feels like this is his only chance to meet you and talk to you without lies.

Simeon invites you to some tea, while his roommates are out.

He gently tells you everything, you don't judge him at all, you are very happy to finally meet your penpal.

Check my Obey me! Masterlist for more content

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me!#obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me boys #obey me solmare #obey me headcanon #obey me one master to rule them all

336 notes · View notes

allzelemonz · 4 years ago

Text

The Swedes X Hargreaves! Commission! NSG Reader

Ah, yes, random inspiration for a request long old! Might do a sequel with some fix it elements because no one needs to the see our boys die.

Working with the boys was always scary. There was a chance one of you was going to have to see something terrible happen to the other. When you went solo it seemed easier, like you could forget that you boys were in danger. The commission wasn’t too happy about grouping the love birds together, but with all the trouble these fugitives had caused, Carmichael wasn’t taking any chances. These fugitives did happen to be your siblings, but it’s not like this sort of thing was odd.

When you started working for the commission it was clear that anyone who messed with the timeline was in the wrong. When Fives joined years later it seemed like he understood that. But now you were getting off a bus fully ready to stop the hell that your brother had started. You didn’t expect to see Five right off the bat.

The boys took their shots, but you had to take a moment to process. Fives met your eyes for a second before he disappeared with the briefcase. You drew your gun and moved with the boys. Axel’s silent commands were clear as his brother spread out to survey. You stayed by him in front of what was formally Hazel. The two of you scanned the surroundings for anything out of order. The briefcase had been damaged, the jump wasn’t complete.

You caught sight of an abnormal amount of smoke conveniently hiding behind a car. You nudged Axel’s arm and nodded to the car. He whistled to catch Oscar and Otto’s attention. The brothers formed up again to begin assault on the car. Oscar went around to find an empty spot, Five wasn’t there. The smirk that had formed on Axel’s face, the thought of an easy job that would permit you all to go home and lounge on the couch, was gone immediately.

You could feel that familiar weight in the air that Five always left when he jumped. You scanned as much around you as you could see, but there was no sign of your brother. The boys went right in search as you tried to figure out where Five could have jumped to. Before you thought to look up Axel’s whistle caught your attention. The boys were at the corner, gazing at a milk truck.

The milk guy was not expecting to be jumped by a group of assassins. It was likely he’d never even heard of that particular job. It made taking the truck rather easy. Oscar had the idea to play dress for the next part of the mission. Otto’s first instinct was to tease his brother in the milkman uniform and Axel was holding a laugh. Being the adoring spouse you are, you simply told he looked handsome and gave him a lingering kiss that made the other two members of your relationship quiet down. You made sure to give them both a kiss on the cheek to make up for it.

Axel was quick to plan. He explained in little detail, all of you just understanding how his mind worked. The small waiting period was easily passed. As you all waited in light silence in the back of the milk truck. You had found a comfortable spot on Otto’s lap as the small giant took a nap. He had his arms loosely fixed around your waist so you wouldn’t fall. Playing with his hair seemed to make the time pass quickly. Oscar fretted with his new clothes for awhile until he couldn’t find anything wrong and joined Axel in staring at a schematic plan of the asylum you’d find Diego in.

The sun had set softly around you in the sleepy state you found Otto's comforting slumber putting you in. Axel kneeled beside you and placed a kiss on your head. His way of telling you it was time to go on mission. You gave him a nod of acknowledgement and turned to wake Otto. You shook his shoulder lightly and roused him awake. He gave you a small and sleepy kiss as he began the gradual process of fully waking up.

You stood up and moved to the front of the truck where the other boys were. Axel was getting the truck started and Oscar had started fiddling with his uniform buttons again. You ran your hand through the smaller Swede’s hair and gave him a reassuring look when he turned to face you. This mission would go fine.

Oscar went in first so as to not raise alarm. Upon the sound of his shotgun the rest of you went in. Oscar’s once pristine white uniform now had a light blood splatter that made him seem even more handsome. The smirk you caught a glimpse of was you loved to see on his face. He was proud of himself. The proud little Swede went to shut off the lights as his brothers grew their own bit of pride for their small brother.

The four of you walked down the halls in search of your own brother. Axel led the charge as he always did as brought up the rear. The sound of howling caught your attention. It was a madhouse, and it was your only clue. Axel turned down the appropriate hallway with the rest of you in tow.

Even in the dark hallway and with the uncharacteristically long hair you recognized your brother. The boys didn’t hesitate to start firing. It took you a moment to lull it over, but ultimately started firing with the boys. This mission is a do or die situation. Between your siblings and your husbands, in the moment, the choice was clear.

The chase escalated when the other inmates were released and crowded the halls. The only place they could have run was to a maintenance closet. Axel kicked open the door with no issue and the brother began to fire wildly, not missing an inch of the small room. Otto was the last to stop. He found their escape route and a sense of relief and guilt went through you. Diego wasn’t dead yet.

You followed the escape route through more convert means that involved stairs. It led to the lower levels of the asylum where you found a duo of disarmed police officers. Upon their pleads not to shoot Axel fitted them each with a bullet to the skull. The sight of an exit was in view and after making it outside you were met with failure. Just a large group of inmates dancing and running away.

The feeling of Axel failing was one that stung the air like poison. He didn’t like making mistakes. You took the gun from his hand and replaced it with a reassuring squeeze. His feeling died down slightly, but he was still very annoyed that they’d lost Diego.

Upon returning to the milk truck Axel was still on edge, Oscar was tired, and Otto was unhappy. The trio didn’t fail often. You did what you could to console them, but an uplift of spirit would have to wait until you had more space.

102 notes · View notes

jayeray-hq · 4 years ago

Text

How He Shows You Affection: Kageyama Tobio

Thank you again for requesting anon!

Post Time Skip/Manga Ending Spoilers!

Warnings: None all fluff!

How He Shows You Affection Masterlist - Character Masterlist

Thank you as usual to the amazing Tay @deathcab4daddy I know you’re busy so I really really appreciate it! 🥺💖

He Dotes on You

Kageyama had always been a bit socially awkward, which had at times made it difficult for both you and others to see how very much he cared about you. It had taken you a good long while to realize that despite the stilted, often abrupt, and abrasive, words that came out of his mouth that he truly loved you. He was even doing everything in his power to show you, since he couldn’t seem to vocalize how he felt with any sort of eloquence. It was in the little things he did, every day and in every moment that showed he was thinking about you.

It was how whenever he went to the vending machines, he always came back with his milk in one hand and your favorite drink in the other. It was in the way he ensured you never ran out of your favorite treats at home, restocking them every time he went to the store and never forgetting them. It was how there was always a seat reserved for you at all his games, even the ones you couldn’t come to because he wanted to remind you that you were always welcome and that he was always thinking of you.

The little things he did never failed to make your heart warm, each gesture stating how much he loved you loud and clear for anyone who cared to look. After all, each gesture was catered to you and to the things you loved. It surprised every single person who asked about your relationship, but after the first few mistakes where you stated your preferences to him clearly, Kageyama hadn’t ever gifted you something you didn’t like.

Your volleyball crazy boyfriend had proved over and over that the only things he paid attention to and bothered to memorize were about the things he loved. It was why he’d struggled so much in school, and yet he never seemed to forget a single detail about you. He knew your favorite dessert, the things you craved, when your cycle was, your hobbies, and the little things you did or that he could do to brighten your day. He memorized it all, carefully and meticulously and pulled those details out when he needed them to help him prove to you how very much he cared.

It meant when the two of you went shopping that if you happened to mention you liked or wanted something, you could almost always count on having it show up sometime in the near future. It made things a little difficult at times as your boyfriend, with all his adorable awkwardness, didn’t seem to know the meaning of the word excessive. You couldn’t help but find that part of him incredibly cute. It just meant you’d had to learn to watch your words so you wouldn’t accidentally take advantage of the way he wanted to spoil you.

However, the clearest and most obvious sign of his adoration for you was when you asked him for something, he almost never said no, even if doing it for you made him a bit uncomfortable at times. If you asked him for a hug, he gave it, even if it was in public in front of his team, or even in front of reporters and fans despite the fact that public displays of affection made him uncomfortable. He would blush the whole time, and maybe be a little stiff and awkward, but if you asked, or even so much as hinted that you might need it he would do it without hesitation.

It was another thing you were very careful never to take for granted, unwilling to make him uncomfortable or unhappy for your own selfish reasons. However, you really appreciated that he was willing to step out of his comfort zone for you, to do whatever it took to make you feel loved.

A lot of people over the years had asked you how you could be with someone who seemed so cold. You’d always scoffed at those people, because it was very clear to you and everyone who truly knew him. Kageyama was the exact opposite of cold. Sure he struggled sometimes, but it was clear to you that he was doing his best to show you how much he truly loved you, and in the end that was all that mattered.

He Makes Time for You

You waited patiently up in the stands, watching as your boyfriend practiced his setting for Hoshiumi, Ushijima, and Romero below clearly working on something or another. You honestly loved watching your boyfriend practice, the look on his face was unlike anywhere else, the sheer joy and concentration in his expression clear to anyone who cared to look.

It was very clear to you that the volleyball court was where Kageyama belonged, and where he felt most comfortable. However, these days you liked to think volleyball wasn’t the only thing that could make his face light up with joy, a feeling that was only confirmed as he glanced up after a successful toss to meet your eyes.

It was a habit he’d formed fairly early on in your relationship, searching out your face in the crowd, almost as if seeking your approval, something in his face clearly asking ‘did you see that? Did you see what I did?’. The answer of course was always yes, because when he was playing you could hardly ever tear your eyes away from him, which was part of the reason the two of you had gotten together in the first place.

However today wasn’t about volleyball, or enjoying watching him set for hours on end. No today was supposed to be about the two of you. It was an important date after all, Valentine’s Day, and one he’d promised to you. He clearly hadn’t forgotten, judging from the lovely bouquet of your favorite flowers that had arrived while you were at work, and as he caught your eye, he nodded to you in acknowledgment before turning to his teammates.

You weren’t sure what exactly it was he said to them, but it had Hoshiumi letting out a surprised shout, and Ushijima raising a brow at your boyfriend. Romero, whose Japanese had improved a lot recently, simply clapped your boyfriend on the shoulder in a clearly congratulatory manner before gently pushing him off the court.

Kageyama went, though not before meeting your eyes and gesturing that he would meet up with you in the lobby. You waved in acknowledgment, a wide affectionate smile on your face as you stood to leave, even if it would take him at least ten minutes to shower and dress.

Your departure however was stopped by a shout from Hoshiumi. Curious, you turned to find all three of the players who’d been practicing with your boyfriend, along with the team captain Hirugami, Fukurou, all gathered below the bleachers clearly looking to speak with you.

“How did you do it?” Hoshiumi asked you bluntly, his eyes wide with shocked awe as he stared up at you.

“Do what?” you asked him, a little dumbfounded by the question. Hoshiumi was a bit of an odd one, and though you didn’t know him well you did know he was the kind of guy that was almost impossible to predict.

“How did you convince Kageyama to leave practice early?” he asked, his voice getting louder and louder with each word, clearly baffled, “We can hardly ever get him to leave the building period, but somehow he’s ditching us early?”

“Kageyama is very diligent,” Ushijima added thoughtfully, also looking a bit baffled as to why anyone would want to leave practice. The compliment was a high one though, especially from Ushijima who was honestly the epitome of diligence.

“But I didn’t,” you told them, unable to help the fond smile that pulled at your lips as you realized that your boyfriend had clearly made special plans for the two of you, especially if he was leaving practice early, “Tobio was the one who told me what time I needed to be here. He insisted on making the plans for today.”

Hoshiumi made a clearly disbelieving noise, but Romero who had been listening intently and quietly asking Hirugami for clarification at certain points simply nodded voicing, “Is the power of love, sí?”

You flushed a bit at having it pointed out so bluntly, especially when Hoshiumi squawked in clear surprise and Hirugami started in on a coughing fit, clearly trying to cover his laugh. However, the beaming smile on your face no doubt gave you away.

“Kageyama told me a couple weeks ago that he’d be leaving practice early today,” Hirugami told the group, once he’d recovered from his fit, “It surprised me and the coaches too. Apparently, he’s more of a romantic than I thought.”

“I never thought I’d see the day Kageyama loved something as much or more than volleyball,” Hoshiumi voiced with a frown, “I’ve known that kid since high school, and never would’ve guessed he had room in his head or heart for anything more than the game. Guess you must be pretty special to him eh?”

You didn’t get a chance to respond to the surprisingly perceptive question from the white-haired wing spiker, as your conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the man himself. He was dressed surprisingly nicely, in dark pants and a deep blue button down that no doubt had been picked for him by his older sister Miwa. He had a bit of an impatient look on his face, clearly suspicious as he glanced between you and the members of his team who’d gathered to speak to you.

“Oy, come on, we’re going to be late,” he informed you bluntly, holding his hand out to you.

“You look nice Tobio,” you acknowledged, immediately accepting his hand, smiling up at him, and enjoying the faint pale blush you could see across his cheeks. He was clearly a little flustered at the compliment, simply dipping his head, unable to collect himself to return the compliment just yet.

However, he did carefully guide you out of the bleachers, ensuring you didn’t slip on the stairs because of the heels you’d worn to match your date night outfit. The soft, admiring look he gave you every time he looked at you more than enough of a return compliment, and reward for dolling yourself up for the night.

You waved in acknowledgment as the team wished the two of you a good evening together. You stepped out hand in hand with your boyfriend ready to enjoy the evening and celebrate your love, one that he’d more than proved already, simply by taking the time off to be with you.

He Vocalizes it to You (and only to you)

“Tobio is something wrong?” you asked your boyfriend, deeply concerned with the way he’d been acting all evening. He’d been fidgety and restless, casting you furtive looks out of the corner of his eye that he clearly thought were subtle but were actually anything but.

Usually when he got a bit agitated or when something was bothering him, you could get him to relax by cuddling up together on the couch and running your fingers through his hair as you watched something mindless on tv. Tonight however, even that surefire method had failed. You weren’t sure what was wrong, only that something was.

Kageyama fidgeted for several seconds, clearly fighting with himself as you waited patiently. By this point in your relationship, you were well aware that sometimes the best thing to do with him when you wanted answers was to quietly wait him out and give him some time to get his thoughts together.

You didn’t mind. The fact that Kageyama was able to communicate effectively with you at all was, according to some of his old high school senpai, a minor miracle. After all, verbal communication was one of the areas your boyfriend struggled with the most, and had led to quite a few misunderstandings and hurt feelings on both sides from the people he’d known over the years.

He’d gotten much better though as he got older and a little more patient. It was something he credited Sugawara, Hinata, and Oikawa of all people with, which had always baffled you a bit. Oikawa himself had squawked rather indignantly when your boyfriend had mentioned as such in his hearing which, while hilarious, had done nothing to clear up your confusion.

You were grateful for it nonetheless as it had certainly helped ease things in your relationship. The two of you had, had more than a few bumps along the way, especially at first, but these days you liked to think the two of you had a good system worked out and communicated rather well.

“I love you,” your boyfriend blurted suddenly, the words pulling you from your reminiscence about the past rather abruptly and startling you a bit with their volume.

“I love you too, Tobio,” you told him immediately, a little taken aback, but warmed nonetheless about his declaration of affection, even if the delivery hadn’t been all that smooth. He didn’t say it as often as some, and never where anyone else could overhear, too shy to do so, but when the two of you were home, he never failed to tell you and it warmed your heart every time.

“You- you know I love you,” he continued hesitantly, peering up at you from where he’d been resting on your lap, his deep blue eyes clearly troubled as he asked, “right?”

“Of course,” you answered, more than a bit baffled about what had brought this on all of a sudden, “And, you know I love you back, right?”

“I know,” he murmured his voice quiet, but filled with affection as he peered up at you, his face full or adoration even if the worry hadn’t completely left his eyes.

“I just wanted to make sure you knew,” he told you earnestly, his ears burning red, clearly embarrassed but determined to keep going despite that, “Because everyone says it isn’t obvious, and I just thought, maybe it might not be obvious to you.”

“Everyone says?” you repeated a little baffled, before remembering the article that you and one of your friends had been laughing at over lunch earlier in the day. It was one of those stupid gossip rags that made up random news articles about celebrities. This particular one had proclaimed that it was clear your boyfriend wasn’t in love with you, because he was never affectionate or loving toward you when the two of you were in public.

It had even gone on to proclaim this was because he was in love with another woman, and included a grainy picture of him hugging her as clear ‘evidence’. You’d nearly laughed yourself to tears seeing the photo as it was clear how incredibly uncomfortable he’d been, stiff as a board in the embrace. Even funnier was that you’d recognized the ‘other woman’ in the photo as his sister Miwa.

You hadn’t given it a second thought other than to ask your boyfriend if the PR team of the Adlers was going to do anything about it. He’d immediately responded with an affirmative, and you’d seen the magazine had been forced to print a retraction and an apology just an hour or two later. You’d honestly forgotten about the incident completely, but apparently your boyfriend hadn’t.

“Tobio, you know I don’t care about what anyone else says about our relationship right?” you told him gently, “As long as you know I love you, and I know you love me that’s all that matters. As long as you keep talking to me, keep telling me you love me that’s all I could ever need to know how you feel.”

Kageyama still looked a bit concerned, the furrow that appeared whenever he was thinking hard about something still evident between his brows. You meant the words though, really and truly. You knew how hard they were for him to say, both because he struggled with communication in general and because he was shy about expressing his feelings. Which was why it meant the world to you that he went out of his way to say them to you. You didn’t need him to proclaim them to the world, him just saying them to you was more than enough.

“I love you,” you told him earnestly, peering down at him, gently smoothing the crease in his brow until his face relaxed, into the soft look he reserved for you.

“I love you too,” he told you sincerely, sitting up to press a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips.

“Then that’s all you have to say,” you assured him, nuzzling your face into his affectionately, relishing in his presence, and basking both in his love and the words he saved for you and you alone.

#JayeRayWrites #JayeRayReplies #how he shows you affection #kageyama tobio #tobio kageyama #kageyama #tobio #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama tobio x you #kageyama tobio x y/n #kageyama scenarios #kageyama headcanons #kageyama fluff #haikyuu!!#haikyu imagines #haikyū!!#haikyu fluff #tobio kageyama x reader

174 notes · View notes

murdertrialimagines · 4 years ago

Note

Oh god, I gotta hurry uh...Red String AU for SDR2 characters of your choice where their soulmate is a Reserve Course Student?

Hey there! Of course! Hope you like the characters I chose (I picked like five, you’re bound to like at least one, right?), I just picked some of my favorites. Also I wasn’t sure if this is before they were accepted into Hope’s Peak as part of the reserve course or if they go to a different school so I switched it up a bit throughout as to not get too repetitive. Enjoy!

Ibuki Mioda

You knew you had a soulmate, the red string attached to your pinky made that clear.

You believed in fate, so you left it in the hands of destiny to bring you two together.

Ibuki, on the other hand, was hell-bent on finding you.

One particular Tuesday, you were in class when you noticed the string on your finger felt... looser?

This struck you as odd but you continued listening to the teacher until the end of the day.

You then stepped outside of your ordinary high school to see a not-so-ordinary girl in a Hope’s Peak Academy uniform, waving excitedly at you.

Oh my god. She was your soulmate??! But she was so... cool! And not ordinary!

She ran to you and started making loud, excited conversation that moved at a very fast pace, clearly not caring that you were just an ordinary high school student.

Kazuichi Soda

You moved through the halls on your first day at a new school, careful not to bump into anyone.

You were, after all, in the halls of Hope’s Peak Academy! You didn’t want to bump into any of the amazingly talented individuals in the prestigious school.

You were part of the reserve course. You admired Hope’s Peak and wanted to be talented like it’s diverse student body, but you just didn’t have an ultimate talent. You had hobbies and interests, sure, but you weren’t the very best at anything.

As you went about your first day, most people seemed very welcoming, no one really caring that you weren’t an ultimate like the rest of them.

The school day was finished and you were making your way outside when you noticed the string on your finger getting looser and looser.

You looked around and spotted a pink haired boy under a tree looking down at his pinky and then back up at you.

You made your way to him with a smile which he returned. You stopped in front of him and took in his features.

He smiled at you. “The name’s Kazuichi Soda. I’m the ultimate mechanic. Nice to meet ya!”

Gundham Tanaka

Gundham is... a bit of an oddball. In the best way! But he never really fit in and usually stuck out like a sore thumb.

This was to be expected, being the Supreme Overlord of Ice and all.

When he met you, he was ecstatic! He didn’t care that you weren’t like the rest of them. In fact, he kinda liked that you were different, and he thought it was poetic that being ordinary made you different.

Of course, he introduced himself in his own Gundham way (which you adored), but he couldn’t hide his blushing face, even if he buried it in his scarf.

He wouldn’t tell you this, but when he felt the tug on his pinky lessen, he felt his heart leap and his stomach do flips. He couldn’t wait to meet you!

You had been in class when you noticed the slack in the string, so when you were on break you rushed to find him before you had to be in class again.

Your heart was racing. You were nervous! You wanted to meet him, but how would he react knowing you were just a reserve course student?

Of course, he didn’t care at all and he quickly extinguished your worries.

Hajime Hinata

You stared up at the school in front of you, too nervous to go in, until you felt the familiar tug on your pinky go away.

You looked to your left and saw a boy your age with brown hair and a tie. He seemed nervous, too, and apparently he was too anxious to notice that his soulmate was standing right next to him.

You tapped his shoulder and introduced yourself, explaining that you were his soulmate.

Only then was he aware of the situation. He blushed and introduced himself.

“I-I’m Hajime Hinata. I don’t have an ultimate talent.” “Neither do I! I’m from the reserve course!”

Being a reserve course student himself, Hajime was elated when he found out you were the same as him.

Of course, he would have loved you no matter what, but he felt better knowing that you can relate to each other and he found comfort in your similarities.

Chiaki Nanami

You had always had hobbies and activities you enjoyed, but you didn’t have any sort of talent that you could say was your thing. You weren’t the best at anything, and you didn’t care about that.

You went to a normal high school with normal school days like this one had been. However, this day wouldn’t be normal for long.

After school on this particular day, you decided to head to the arcade. This wasn’t usual but it also wasn’t unusual, in that you were just a high school kid and you did fun things sometimes but you liked to switch it up.

When you got close enough to see the arcade, you felt something unusual. You looked down at the red string on your pinky and noticed that it was strangely... loose?

You knew what this meant, so you stared at your finger for a moment before coming to your senses and booking it to the arcade.

You reached the doors and pulled them open, eyes following the string to a girl with light pink hair playing a game to the right. As you made your way to her, you called out to her and a big “GAME OVER” flashed on the screen.

She turned to you with a sleepy smile, and you introduced yourself, explaining how you were coming to the arcade and you noticed the string was loose so you used it to find her. She smiled at you and introduced herself as Chiaki Nanami, the Ultimate Gamer.

You explained that you didn’t have an ultimate talent but you were okay with that. She seemed to like that positive attitude and the conversation continued on.

And the rest is history!

I hope you enjoyed this, thank you for requesting! This was fun to write! I love AUs and soulmates!

Mod Kirigiri

#danganronpa #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa headcanons #super danganronpa 2 #sdr2 #danganronpa imagines #ibuki mioda #kazuichi soda x reader #kazuichi soda #ibuki mioda x reader #gundham tanaka x reader #gundham tanaka #hajime hinata #chiaki nanami #chiaki x reader

240 notes · View notes

sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years ago

Text

My Favorite Smile

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC/BatFam - Jason Todd/Red Hood

Rating: PG-11/T- (this one has a couple ✨swear words✨ in it lol. I don’t usually write them out, but sometimes you just gotta say what you mean)

Original Idea: X (Obsessed with this channel right now)

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) 2,182 words... it’s a longer one again. I casually wrote this in, like, two hours. @welovegroot @jason-redhood @jason-todd-squad

^^^^^

Holding his coffee and croissant, Jason looked around the crowded café for a place to sit. Every table was occupied by at least one person, and the rules of personal space in public said the couches were full, with one person sitting on either end.

His eyes fell on a table with a single occupant.

His heart stuttered to a stop. Wait… is that her? Damn, she looks good this time. He scoffed at himself. Who am I kidding? She looks good every time. Should I talk to her? Should I tell her? She didn’t believe me last time… and I don’t know if I can stand another lifetime without her… but last life we didn’t meet till I was almost fifty. I really wasn’t expecting to find her this early.

He straightened up and strode over to her table. “Excuse me, is it alright if I sit here? The café’s pretty crowded and the other tables are full.”

She looked up and Jason’s brain stopped working as she met his eyes. She was just as incredible as she always was. Thousands upon thousands of years, and he still never got over how beautiful she was. “Sure, go ahead,” she said with a smile before going back to her phone.

—

“I’m Jason, by the way,” the man said, sitting down.

I glanced back up and gave him my name in return.

He smiled. He had a handsome smile. Just looking at him… something tugged in the back of my mind. “That’s a pretty name,” he said.

My ears warmed and I looked away. “Thanks,” I muttered. I looked back at him. “Sorry if this sounds… weird—but have we met before?” I cringed but smiled. If we had…oh it’d be so embarrassing if I’d forgotten him. And a man as handsome as him—how could I have forgotten?

But a look of delight crossed his face, before being replaced by one of neutrality. “Not in this lifetime,” he replied.

“Kind of an odd way to word it,” I remarked before I could overthink whether that sounded really rude or not.

Jason’s ears turned red. “Well… yeah I guess so. Sorry.” He looked down at his coffee cup and croissant and chose to take a sip of his drink. After swallowing, he looked back up at me. “This is probably gonna sound really creepy, but please just hear me out for a few minutes. Do you believe in soulmates?”

I reached up and scratched an itch just behind my ear. “I mean… kind of? I think maybe they exist for some people, and other people could be matched equally well with multiple potential partners,” I said.

His shoulders slouched with a sigh of what might have been relief. “Thank goodness,” he said. He met my eyes. “Because… we’re soulmates. You and I. Sometimes—very rarely—two people are so destined to be together, that they’re reborn over and over to stay together throughout thousands of years’ worth of lifetimes. Sometimes we both remember, sometimes only one of us does. I don’t think there’s ever been a lifetime where neither of us remember. Besides the first, I guess. Back when we didn’t know we’d be reborn. We never look the same twice—different bodies, different backgrounds. But we always have the same soul.”

A reasonable person would have thought he was making up a really long, bad pickup line. But I stared at him with rapt attention. Like some missing puzzle piece I’d been looking for my entire life fell into place. It just sounded… right.

“How do we find each other, if we look different every time?”

He took a deep breath. “Well… when one or both of us remember, we can… kind of sense it? Kind of see it? Like, right now, I see you, but I also see every face of yours that I’ve seen across every lifetime.” He cleared his throat. “Sometimes we don’t. Find each other, I mean. The distance between where we’re born or the timing of our rebirths keep us apart. But there’s only been… three of those, if I remember right.” He laughed. “So glad you believed me this time. It would have sucked if you got a restraining order—because those are a thing now—and I had to spend this life without you.”

I leaned forward, shoving my phone in my pocket. “Tell me more,” I said.

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Um… I don’t know. The beginning? Our first life?”

He nodded. “Ancient Greece,” he said. “Like, really early in Ancient Greece’s history. The gods blessed us. Bound our souls for eternity. Your hair is actually the same color now as it was back then. Kind of a… nostalgic favorite of mine. You’re absolutely stunning every time I see you, but I have some favorites. You do too.”

I snickered. “Oh really? Like what?”

“Well… I always think you’re adorable with dimples or freckles. Green eyes are a favorite of mine too. And your current hair color is my favorite. There were also a few times where you were a little taller than me. Those were nice. You’re most comfortable to hug that way. But, without fail, every single lifetime I see your smile and I think, ‘That one. That one’s my new favorite.’” He chuckled. “As for you, you’ve told me that you like me best with brown eyes—even though you don’t like brown eyes normally. Um… you also like it when my hair is curly.” He gestured to his black hair, slightly curled, with two white curls arcing down the center of his forehead. “You told me… seven lifetimes ago? That you like me best with piercings and tattoos, but when I brought it up last lifetime you said even when I have them I still look like, and I quote, a ‘giant nerd.’”

We both laughed. Jason sighed and shook his head.

“Then again, you said that was your favorite during our pirate lifetime. And I can also say hot damn you looked good with tattoos and a big hat.”

I gasped out a laugh. “We were pirates?”

He laughed too. “Yeah. Well, you were. To start with, anyway. You and your crew were visiting my town and you, absolutely drunk, stumbled into my house. I was a carpenter that time. Thank the gods we both remembered that lifetime or I probably would have shot you. You spent half the night drunkenly blathering about how much you hated my hair when it was long the way it was and that you’d cut it off if I didn’t. The next morning, when you’d sobered up, you apologized. And I’d said it was fine. And… you asked me to come with you. I’ve spent dozens of lifetimes endlessly in love with you. So, like the lovesick fool I am and was, I said yes.

“It… was not a long lifetime. Pirates rarely made it to old age. We were both killed when a Royal Navy ship attacked us. I went down first. You told me in our next lifetime that you single-handedly killed half of that crew’s sailors in revenge even though you knew you’d see me again—because you’d been having so much fun that life and they ruined it. Eventually their captain killed you himself.” He took a bite of his croissant.

It was certainly a lot to take in. But everything he said was so vivid… I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination coming up with the images or… memories that had merely been locked away somewhere deep inside. The sea. The deck of a ship. An octopus tattoo on my left forearm, tentacles reaching to the back of my hand, a similar one on his tanned, scarred neck. Curly auburn hair, a scruffy beard. Brown leather coat and blood under his nails. Pierced ear and eyebrow. A tattoo of a mermaid with a face and wild hair that I knew must have been mine on his right thigh as we found alone time together in my cabin—a pile of leather clothes in a heap on the floor, topped by a big hat with a big feather.

I met his eyes again. “Tell me about another one.”

He smiled. “Well… there was another time I was a soldier. You remembered. I didn’t. I passed through your town on my way to report for duty, and the weather got bad. Your family owned a tavern that doubled as an inn. So, that was where I stayed. You didn’t tell me. I fell in love with you anyway. You would tell me stories and sing for me and make me food in private. When the weather improved, I went off to war and, miraculously, I survived. Even though I spent most of my time that fight thinking about you. I came back to your inn and asked you to marry me. You said yes. We were married soon after. I had to leave a lot. Fighting battles I didn’t care about. Eventually, I came home injured and dying. You held my hand and promised you’d see me soon. I thought you meant heaven or just said it to comfort me. You never told me we were endlessly-reborn soulmates.

“When I was about fifteen my next lifetime, all my memories came back. We both remembered that time, actually. When we ran into each other again we got into such a big argument about you not telling me. Literally picked up right where we left off. Two twenty-year-olds bickering like the old married couple we were. The life after I don’t remember is always a bit of a wild ride as all my memories come back. I imagine it’s similar for you. It’ll be similar for you.”

He reached across the table and took my hand. I squeezed his fingers. Our hands fit together perfectly. I wondered why I’d told him I liked him best with brown eyes when his blue eyes were absolutely gorgeous. “So… what now?” I asked.

He made a face. “Beginnings are always hard when one of us doesn’t remember. Because I have thousands of years of love for you, and you don’t even know me.” His fingers tightened around mine. “I’d like to take you out on a date, if you’ll let me.”

“Does it count as a first date?”

He smiled. It was a sad smile. “It can. It does for this life.”

“Have we… ever had children? Together?”

Jason regarded me thoughtfully. “We have,” he said. “But our bloodlines never last long. Usually we’re lucky to get great-grandchildren. We’re blessed to be together forever, but our families die off quickly. You speculated once that it’s the blessing’s attempt to make sure we’re not reborn into our own bloodline.”

“So we have no living descendants.”

“No. It’d be a little weird if we did. Like ‘Hey, kiddo, you’re our great-great-great-grandson! I know we’re younger than you but trust us!’” Jason laughed.

I could get drunk on that laugh. “I’d… I’d like to go on that date.”

He looked elated—and relieved. “Me too. I’d like to get to know you again.” He glanced around the crowded café. “What do you say we get out of here and go somewhere quiet and I can tell you more stories about our lives? You’ve always been the far superior storyteller, but I learned from the best.”

I smiled. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here. I want to hear everything.”

He helped me to my feet. I gathered my jacket, cup, and phone. “Great. I can’t wait to tell you about the time I was a magician.”

I giggled. “My place or yours?”

“Mine. I have a memento from our most recent past life that I tracked down. I’d like you to have it.”

“What is it?”

Jason didn’t answer immediately. Just held my hand as we left the café. Gotham’s overcast autumn sky was chilly. “I… I want it to be a surprise but I’m also too excited to tell you.” He bit his lower lip, staring at me. “Gah. Fine. It’s your wedding ring. I found it at an antique shop not far from where our oldest niece lived. We didn’t have any kids, last life. We didn’t meet till I was forty-nine and you were forty-three. We both decided it was too late for kids. But I had a few nieces and nephews. Our oldest niece was in charge of our estate. We died in the eighties. But I found your ring. You can use it again, eventually, if you want. Or we can get you a new one.” His face reddened. “I don’t mean to presume. But I don’t know if I can live without you this lifetime after having you for such a short time last life.”

I squeezed his hand. “Let’s try that first date first. I feel this pull toward you I can’t explain, but we’ll build up to the soulmate thing. Okay?” I smiled at him.

—

Jason couldn’t help but stare at her. Those eyes, that stunning face. This one, he thought. This smile is my favorite.

#My Favorite Smile #Jason Todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd fanfiction #Red Hood #red hood imagine #red hood fanfiction #DC #DC imagine #dc fanfiction #BatFam #batfam imagine #batfam fanfiction

44 notes · View notes

yolkyeomie · 4 years ago

Text

Improv Game | Yang Jeongin

summary — maybe following the script of what’s ahead isn’t for you and a little bit of improv is all you need to make it better

word count — 1.9k words

pairing — gender neutral!reader x jeongin (ft. x hyunjin)

genre — high school au, transmigration(?) au, fluff, cliff hanger

disclaimer — this is VERY loosely based off of series like Extraordinary You and the awfully popular reincarnation webtoons i’ve seen like… everywhere. I JUST NEEDED SUMN TO WRITE OKAY?

You strained a smile at the boy in front of you, rhythmically tapping your fingers on the desk in hopes that he’d pick up your annoyed undertone. Though to no avail did he notice. He simply took it as your way of attentively listening to him speak and that’s all he would ever take it as, he was rather oblivious after all. You couldn’t exactly blame him for this unfortunate trait of his but you couldn’t stand it either.

“Oh, Y/N, if you don’t mind me asking…,” the boy began, leaning back in his chair as he held onto the desk for support. His eyes wandered from the front of the classroom then to the classroom window where the cherry blossoms were on full display to finally your eyes.

You didn’t mean to make direct eye contact with him but he caught your gaze a lot quicker than you could look away. With a deep sigh you stretched your arms out before turning your genuine attention to him, “What’s up, Hyunjin? Go ahead and spit it out.”

He cleared his throat for the moment, his eyes darting away from your connected gazes before mumbling something out of his mouth. The boy glanced at you to see if you had heard him and when you showed no signs of understanding, he cleaned his throat again. “I said if you’re not busy any time like… I don’t know— tomorrow? If you wanted to hang out? Like go to the park or an arcade or—“

“—like a date?” You questioned, raising a brow in suspicion.

Hyunjin immediately started to crumble, his face flushing a beetroot red and his ears practically steaming from your words. “No, no! Not a date! I would like… never ask you on a date! Unless you want it to be a date…? I mean if you don’t think it’s a date then it’s not a date—!” The boy continued to ramble, nearly forgetting about your existence as he tried to cover himself.

You were in a very… odd situation to say the least. One day you had woken in a room that wasn’t yours, in a house that wasn’t yours, with friends you didn’t know, going to a school you never went to. Only one could imagine the amount of disarray you were in as you tried to traverse the day struggling to get from one place to another when you didn’t have a clue of what was exactly going on.

You thought, maybe if you just get through this day, everything will go back to normal when you wake up again? As if this was all some sort of… dream your mind had created in your slumber.

But alas, that was definitely not the case. You woke up the next day in the nearly same situation you were in before. And the same in the next day, and the day after that. Soon days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. You were still living throughout each day as if you had never really woken up in the unfamiliar at all.

The kicker? You had quickly caught onto the fact that you were within a book, maybe even a comic who knows, and were walking around as the main protagonist. Well, quickly isn’t the right word per say. A week went by as if everything was normal until you interacted with a teacher who had asked for you after school.

The conversation was as normal as any conversation with an adult would go until you looked above their head and saw words in bold quotation marks detailing words that hadn’t been spoken yet. Without thinking, you read them out loud and the teacher responded exactly to what you had read out. You didn’t think anything of it at first until the routine you had adapted yourself to suddenly changed to fit the words you had read to him.

The world was shaping around the detailed actions and words the story was instructing you to take. Sometimes it would be something simple like helping your teachers with their work and other times if quite literally instructing you to get hit with a soccer ball in the face. You didn’t want to follow through when things like the latter were given to you, but they would just happen whether you liked it or not.

Oh and your main love interest? It was Hyunjin. You’d think having someone fated to fall in love with you and vice versa would be interesting and exciting to you, but you weren’t feeling it all.

Don’t get it wrong, Hyunjin is a very nice kid. He’s tall and handsome with a sweet personality, but he just… wasn’t your type? So trying to get your “character” to fall in love with him was hard. Especially when whatever author that was scripting your interactions together made them happen extremely frequently and in rather annoying ways.

Not a day goes by where you can get some peace and quiet. Whenever you thought you’d be free, Hyunjin would always pop up to greet you or keep you company or even pull you to the next step of your growing relationship when you really didn’t want to.

It seemed like the date-that’s-not-really-a-date-but-it-totally-is was the next step into pushing you two closer to each other. It had to be, given the fact that the next sentence that was supposed to come out of your mouth had appeared over his stressed out figure.

You concealed a deep sigh as you placed your hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. The boy immediately stopped in his tracks, turning to face you with wide and curious eyes. You flashed him your best smile possible, “Yes, let’s make it a date.”

The boy nearly popped a vein, blinking rapidly and his cheeks growing warmer and warmer at your answer. “You… Do you really mean it? Like… this wouldn’t be just two friends hanging out— this will be a whole date?”

“Do you even know what the definition of a date is? Of course it’s a whole date!” You recited, watching Hyunjin’s eyes begin to glow and his smile stretching from ear to ear.

A small hum of satisfaction left his lips as he jumped up from his seat, struggling to contact his excitement. “Okay then! It’s… it’s a date?”

“It’s a date.”

“It’s a date!” He exclaimed, catching the attention of nearly the entire class. Luckily it was a free period so you didn’t have to worry about interrupting the class instruction but it was still embarrassing. You practically sunk in your seat and covered your face to the best of your ability as Hyunjin hopped about the room in glee. “Jeongin, Jeongin! You’ll never guess what happened to me!”

Your head immediately shot up upon hearing the name uttered from the boy’s lips, your eyes glued straight onto Hyunjin’s back. The boy was jumping up and down in the door and his back was blocking the view of whoever was in front of him, but you didn’t exactly mind. You simply waited for him to stop moving before finally spotting the familiar dimpled boy in front him, his pretty smile and excited eyes on the main love interest.

Jeongin, the main love interest’s best friend and the device used to move the plot forward, that’s exactly who he was. Minus the fact that you liked Jeongin a lot more than you liked Hyunjin.

Your body so desperately wanted to move on it’s own, your eyes following the boy’s every move as he expressed his delight for the boy’s accomplishments.

The mischievous glint in his eyes every time was mesmerizing, the pretty tone of voice he had was exhilarating, and his unique features almost made him too good to be true. Not to mention how genuinely funny he was without even trying, he was much more your speed than the gullible and kind Hyunjin that you were paired with.

Unfortunately, the story you were placed in would never let Jeongin think of you more than a friend. He just wasn’t scripted that way. While Hyunjin may love you unconditionally because that was his purpose, you didn’t find it as appealing as perhaps a reader or any other normal main protagonist would be.

Plus, you had no idea how exactly you’d be able to break free from the plotline of you and Hyunjin getting together nor did you know what would happen if you did. You had always followed the path that was in front of you without question, the possibility of getting to the end of the story and escaping the book you were in had been the only thing you were reaching for.

But if you strayed from that somehow and got with Jeongin against the author’s wishes, what exactly would that entail for you? Would you still be forced together with Hyunjin? Or would the author somehow eradicate Jeongin’s existence altogether?

Big bold quotes appeared over Jeongin and Hyunjin’s heads, your next scripted words to continue the plot blasted right in your face like flashing headlights. You read them silently to yourself for a moment, glancing from Hyunjin to Jeongin with a skeptical frown on your face.

I can’t wait for tomorrow, Hyunjin!

What a simple phrase to repeat, a normal response in the situation you were in. You and Hyunjin were fated to be with each other, destined to fall in love no matter what odds were against the two of you. But… you just weren’t feeling it honestly. Who would have guessed that the obstacles that stood in between you and Hyunjin becoming a couple was yourself, the main protagonist, after all?

With a deep breath, you stood up from your seat and flagged down Hyunjin and Jeongin to get their attention. Jeongin was the first to notice, catching your moving figure in the corner of his eye and hitting the boy’s shoulder to get his attention. Hyunjin turned around shortly after, his hair whipping in the wind and landing perfectly on his shoulders thanks to his typical love interest privileges.

He smiled at you, his wide and grand smile that should have made any person fall out in adoration. You raised your hand to wave at the boys as you spoke, “Hi… Jeongin.”

Hyunjin’s infatuated gaze fell into one of confusion, his face twisting as he looked back at the friend you had called out to.

Jeongin looked just as confused as Hyunjin, unsure of whether or not he could respond to you. Though it was a little too late to not answer now, you had already made eye contact with each other. Not responding would be seen as rude to his friend’s future partner after all. “Hi, Y/N” He replied, his words seemingly unscripted from what the original author had intended. Perhaps he wasn’t supposed to say a word to you in this scene but that didn’t matter now.

You had taken the first step into straying off the path that was laid out for you since you woke up in this book’s storyline, and now you were going to run for it. Run as fast as you can to change the story to what you wanted, a story where you can have Jeongin all for yourself, and not what the author had intended for you.

After all, you're not the protagonist that the author had intended to write. You are you’re own person with your own wants and desires, you were going to get what you wanted whether the author liked it or not.

48 notes · View notes