#and pay attention to my tags as I add them through the chapters

[halfagonyandhope]

ignite the stars │ch. 15

first chapter (x); previous chapter (x)

Satine Kryze is an internationally-recognized scholar in genocide studies who recently resigned from the Department of State over her concerns regarding the agency's ethics. Ben Kenobi is a tenured professor at Georgetown University studying the use of religion to justify military conflicts. Once high school sweethearts, the two haven't spoken since parting ways for university. That is, until Satine accepts a research fellowship - at Georgetown.

---

Come Monday morning, Satine is greeted with a knock on her office door. It’s Anakin, holding a garment bag. “Delivery from Padma’s closet,” he announces.

Satine stands, honestly a bit surprised. “She remembered,” she says. “I just…I know she’s working on several bills at the moment. And she’s pregnant! She’s got a lot on her mind.”

“Clothes are one of Padma’s love languages,” says Anakin, handing Satine the bag. “Gifting them, loaning them out, repairing them, upcycling them. If I had it my way, I’d wear the same jeans every day to work, but she’d be scandalized.” He watches as Satine hangs the bag on the coat stand by the door. “She sent a few options,” he adds.

Curious, Satine unzips the bag, realizing that a few is a massive understatement: she’s sent an even dozen. Some are for warmer weather, and Satine suspects she won’t end up wearing any of those - though spring in the District can be beautiful, it likely won’t be mild enough for the thin fabric. One she suspects will be too heavy unless there’s a surprise blizzard, which of course is a possibility. The others will probably be more likely choices, ranging from a bolero-style shrug to a soft, golden infinity-type scarf.

Satine notices the tags. All are designer.

She tries to ignore the way her hand suddenly shakes. The cost of the garments together is probably more than Satine makes during an entire pay period.

“Thank you,” she says, zipping up the bag again. “I really appreciate it. Truly.”

Anakin grins. “This is how Padma likes to make friends. She also said you’re welcome to borrow a handbag or clutch if you don’t have anything that will match.”

Satine looks up at him. “She wants to be friends? With me?”

Anakin crosses his arms against his chest. “Believe it or not, it’s kind of isolating being a Congressional representative, from what I’m told. Obviously she has Breha and Bail, but she’s struggling to find people who aren’t fawning over her or wanting to use her to get a voice at the House.”

“Well,” says Satine, “I can’t promise not to fawn over her - I mean her work speaks for itself.”

Anakin bumps her shoulder lightly with a closed fist. “Hey, she’s familiar with yours as well - she knew your name before you started dating Ben! I think the admiration is mutual. I’ll get Ben to text you her number. And speak of the devil…” he trails off, hearing a key in the lock to the office next door. Anakin spins and calls out to greet his old advisor, diving into an intricate question about military history as he leaves Satine’s office.

Satine takes a last look at the garment bag before smiling to herself and heading back to her desk.

---

That afternoon, Satine and Ben are in the library again. She’s stuck in the middle of the chapter she’s supposed to be proofreading, and she wants a distraction. 

She rummages through her bag to find her notebook, and scribbles a note to Ben.

Why did Anakin call you “Obi” this morning? she writes. Or did I misunderstand him?

And she slides the notebook to Ben. He’s on his laptop, composing an email, but he immediately diverts his attention to the notebook.

He snickers, then gestures for her pen.

Two letters, not three, he writes. O.B. Stands for “Old Ben.” It’s something he began calling me last semester when my beard started turning gray. Coincidentally, it was the first semester I had Ahsoka as a student. He refuses to call her my grad student; instead, he says she’s my grand student.

Satine bites her lip to keep from laughing aloud. Her hand brushes his as she takes back the pen. “Grand” as in “granddaughter”?

Exactly.

Satine pushes the notebook to the side. She turns slightly and reaches up to touch the pad of her thumb to the gray hair that has started to come in around his temple. He watches her with interest as her thumb moves to trace the wrinkles at the corner of his eye.

“I quite like the gray,” she admits, her voice just a whisper. “It suits you. Makes you look distinguished.”

“It’s entirely Anakin’s fault,” Ben responds. “There was no gray at all before I took him on as a student. He’s aging me prematurely.”

But he leans into her hand gently, and she knows he’s joking.

“O.B. Kenobi,” Satine says, smirking. “It’s kind of cute, actually.”

“Oh, don’t you dare take his side. I’m fairly certain Ahsoka calls me that, too - when she’s talking with Anakin. She has the good grace not to say it to my face.”

“We should all be so lucky to grow old. I hope I do.”

He lifts a brow. “Easy for you to say.” He gestures to her hair. “Are you saying you won’t dye it?”

She shakes her head. “My hair has always been thin. Wouldn’t want to risk damaging what I do have.” She laughs, reaching back to remove her hair band. Her ash blonde hair tumbles around her shoulders. Satine reaches for some strands, teasing them apart, and she leans closer to Ben. “There are bits and pieces of gray already, actually,” she says. “But having naturally cool undertones disguises it a bit more than if my hair were auburn.”

Ben studies her hair, almost as if in wonder. “How did I not notice before?”

She grins at him. But then she notices someone who is within earshot, and Satine reaches for the notebook again.

Our eyes have been…otherwise engaged much of the time we’ve been together, she writes.

Ben turns his laughter into a cough. He takes the pen from her and writes below her message. Well, it sounds like it’s high time I took a complete inventory of every surface. What else has changed and escaped my notice? Have you gotten a tattoo?

She shakes her head as he hands the pen back to her. There’s nothing I’ve felt strongly enough about to warrant such permanent modification to my body.

And then she quirks a brow at him, silently asking:

What about you?

He grins. You’ve seen me without a shirt, he replies in writing. 

You can get tattoos elsewhere, you know.  And she passes the notebook back to him.

Ben rolls his eyes, taking the pen. I don’t have a tattoo on my ass. Or anywhere else on my body.

How would I know? I haven’t seen your ass. I was genuinely curious.

He shoots her a glare upon seeing her try to hold in her laughter.

“You’re hilarious,” he says out loud, now that whoever was near has now wandered off.

Ben’s phone lights up as a silent alarm goes off.

“I had to set a reminder,” he explains, “so I wouldn’t be late for lecture again.”

Satine grins.

Ben shrugs into his coat and packs up his laptop. He nods to her own. “Send me the chapter you’re working on. I’ll proofread it this evening.”

She abhors editing, and he knows it. Grateful for the offer, she reaches up to grab his tie, pulling him back down so that she can kiss him tenderly.

He groans softly, pulling back. “Getting sidetracked after the alarm makes the alarm moot,” he says, but he’s smiling as he tucks his tie back into his vest. 

Ben turns to look up at her as he descends the stairs. His smile is still wide.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

---

“Calculus,” Satine whispers.

Ben stills over her, and the next second he’s pulled them both up so that they’re sitting upright on her couch. They’re both still half-dressed: his shirt is off, his belt unbuckled, and her skirt has been pushed up to her hips, her blouse unbuttoned, her blue lace brassiere on display.

Things had escalated quickly after their Saturday afternoon date at the National Portrait Gallery and the attached Smithsonian American Art Museum. While wandering along the exhibits at the latter, Ben had grabbed her hand and whispered, “Imagine my surprise to find they let you touch the art here.”

Satine had blushed at his words, cracked a shy smile at his joke. Those few words had given her courage, and she’d pulled him to the couch the moment they’d arrived home.

But now she’s wondering if her courage was real at all.

“I’m sorry,” she manages to get out.

Ben shakes his head. “Nothing to apologize for,” he says, as though reminding her. “Do you know what it was exactly that triggered you?”

Satine shivers and pulls her blouse back over her shoulder, where Ben had pushed it off to have better access to her neck. “I don’t think it was anything you said,” she responds. She has to laugh. “I mean, we actually haven't said anything since the moment the door was shut.”

“Probably the longest we’ve been with each other without exchanging words,” he agrees with a smirk.

Satine takes a deep breath, willing her blood pressure under control. “Maybe the position?”

He nods. “You felt trapped.”

“I’m sorry,” she says again before she can stop herself.

He gives her an exasperated look. “Don’t - ” he begins.

“I’m not trying to be a tease,” she says, suddenly worried. It’s not the first time in recent weeks she’s left him aroused, without release. She can feel the pent-up frustration.

Ben sighs. “I’d rather be brought to the edge of orgasm every day of my life by you than cum by any other woman.” He reaches slowly for her hand. “If you’re sensing annoyance, it’s because as long as my body is next to yours, I literally do not care if I climax or not, and for some reason I’m having a particularly hard time getting that message through to you.”

Her eyes flicker down to his crotch and then back up to his eyes.

“Poor phrasing,” he admits, but she just laughs.

The next moment, an idea occurs to her. “Can I…can I try something?” she asks.

His expression softens. “You can try anything you like.”

Satine stands abruptly, extending her hand out to him. Without hesitation, he grabs hold, and she pulls him to his feet. “Follow me,” she says, her grip on his fingers tightening. She leads him up the stairs to her bedroom, where she directs him to the bed. “Sit.”

He does, and she flicks on one lamp, setting it low. Then she returns to Ben.

Satine lays a hand on his bare chest and then presses firmly. “Lie back,” she orders.

“Yes, Madam,” Ben says, and he scrambles back so that his head rests against her pillows, shifting to swing his legs on the bed, clearly understanding where she’s going with this.

Satine unbuttons the rest of her blouse and lets it drop to the floor. Then she crawls onto the bed, onto him, to straddle his hips.

Ben’s jaw is tense. “The view is much better from down here anyway,” he says faintly, and then he’s pressing up into her sharply because her hands have moved to pull his trousers down a few more inches.

He groans, and then groans again when her fingers touch him through his boxers. “Fuck.”

“That’s the idea,” says Satine, and she strokes him.

“Not that I disagree,” Ben manages to say, panting, as she removes the last layer of fabric between them. “But are you good with that? You ready?”

“I had my IUD replaced at my annual appointment recently.”

And she seats herself over his hips, gathering her skirt out of the way, grateful they’ve already made quick work of her undergarment.

“Good to know,” says Ben weakly, “but that’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

His hands move to grip her hips, preventing her from sinking down.

“This position is better,” Satine says, her hands covering his own. “I control the speed, the angle. I control everything.” When he nods, trusting her, she says, “I’m ready. Condom?”

He nods, then smirks. “Back pocket of the trousers you just pulled down.”

Satine grins and reaches below him. He raises his hips slightly so she can reach the pocket, and she makes quick work of the wrapper before fitting the condom on him.

And then, together, their hands guide her hips, lowering her to take him into her warmth.

They move her slowly, inch by inch, both breathing heavily. Finally, finally, he’s inside her fully.

“Dear fucking God,” says Ben, and Satine laughs, practically giddy.

“Help me move,” she orders him. “What do you like?”

“You,” he says immediately. “You, just like that.”

She clenches around him, and she can tell he’s preventing himself from bucking his hips.

“Evil woman,” he whispers. “Don’t do that again or this will be over far too quickly.”

“Noted,” says Satine, and she rubs her thumb over his own.

Ben watches their fingers, and then he grips her hips more tightly. “We’ll start slow, okay?”

She nods, and he begins to help move her, even if she’s more in control of her movements than he is. As they find a rhythm, she watches his eyes lock on her breasts.

“Still liking the view?”

He pumps into her, groaning. “It continues to impress,” he grunts out, eyes still on her cleavage.

Satine reaches one hand behind her to unclip the bra, slipping out of it. She drops it behind her. “And how about now?”

Ben’s cadence slips, and his jaw goes slack. “God, Satine,” he whispers, reaching a hand up to palm one breast, his thumb concentrating on her nipple.

She whines, arching into him, and they try to find whatever remains of their rhythm. They succeed, for a bit, moving faster and then more slowly together, climbing, climbing, climbing, and then - 

“So fucking good,” says Ben, his tone clipped. “Satine, I - ”

And suddenly he jerks up, his muscles taut beneath her own, his fingers tight on her hips, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. She knows he’s climaxing without him needing to say the words aloud. 

It’s the most gorgeous thing she’s ever seen.

Satine's mind is blank, and then a moment later, he’s collapsed back on the sheets, breathing heavily, eyes soft and sated. The hand he’d had on her breast moves to her jaw, and he cradles her face. He helps her as she slips away from him, moving her from a kneeling position to being seated more comfortably. “What would you like next?” he asks, still out of breath, looking to her for their next step.

Satine shakes her head. “I don’t think I can climax,” she says, matching his tone. “At least, not right now. That was…a lot. Emotionally.”

Ben nods, trusting her awareness of her body’s limits. He kisses her softly. “I’ll be right back,” he says, going to dispose of the condom.

And he returns a moment later, trousers now zipped, belt buckled, a washcloth in his hand. He leans over her, pulling her gently to the edge of the bed and pushing the fabric of her skirt out of the way. As he wipes her clean, he catalogs the skin of her thighs, sinking down to kneel on the floor so he can press butterfly kisses to her knees.

“You good?” he asks eventually, pulling her skirt back down and making her shiver.

Her answer surprises even herself.

“Yes,” she whispers.

---

She wakes up to his lips on her shoulder.

Satine hums.

“It was much too dark last night for me to fulfill my promise of a complete inventory,” he says against her skin. “May I now?”

She nods, still groggy, still blinking against sleep.

Ben pulls her sleep shirt up and over her head, and she shivers at the brisk air. “Sorry,” he says as she pulls her arms beneath her chest, tucking them in from the cold.

“No, you’re not,” Satine says.

He grins. “I’m not,” he agrees, and he pulls the sheet down to her hips.

His first touch is to the center of her back. “I remember this mole,” he says. “Besides the ones on your neck, it’s my favorite.”

“You have a favorite mole of mine?”

“Oh, yes,” says Ben. “I had a ranking system, back when we were teenagers. It was based on your response to my kissing them. I wonder…will the intensity of your responses to attention to particular moles have changed over the years? Another thing I must inventory.”

Satine chuckles. “For science.”

“For science indeed. The one time that quantitative ranks are actually useful.”

At this she laughs more deeply, and he chooses this moment to press a kiss to the center of her back.

“Hmmm,” says Ben. “I think you’re suppressing your reaction because I told you I was going to be watching it. I’ll have to try another day when I haven’t reminded you. That way the data won’t be biased.”

“God forbid you collect data that are not impartial.”

“The absolute horror,” he agrees, moving his lips lower. “The muscles are more defined here than I remember, more so than I’d expect from natural age-related processes. Yoga? Pilates? Barre?”

Satine nods. “All of the above. I realized I was running myself into the ground with cardio. The running was just too hard on my joints. I switched to workouts that don’t require as much impact.”

“Interesting,” he says. “The Satine I knew wouldn’t have stayed still long enough for a yoga class.”

“Well, twenty-five year old Satine grew tired of the stress fractures that made her do nothing but sit still, and she had to figure out an alternative.” She shrugs. “It’s probably for the best. My long-distance running friends now have the beginnings of osteoarthritis, and my joints seem to be better off than theirs.”

As he laughs, she feels his hot breath against her skin. His lips begin to move up her spine. “No signs of the remnants of a tan,” he says as he plants kisses between her shoulder blades. “Do you not ever go on vacation?”

“Maybe I’m just particularly careful with my sunscreen regimen.”

Ben snorts. “You always did burn at the slightest exposure.”

“One of the reasons I fit right in in Norway,” Satine agrees.

“But you didn’t answer my question.”

Satine sighs. “You know the life of an academic. It’s pretty similar to the life of a State Department employee. Technically I got vacation time, but there really wasn’t time to use it. There was always some other crisis to address.”

Ben kisses her shoulder. “We should go on vacation,” he says.

Satine glances over her shoulder at him. “You mean for Spring Break?”

“As much as I would love to take you somewhere for Spring Break, I actually am flying out to Wisconsin that week.”

Satine has to laugh at this. “Wisconsin in the beginning of April? Not the ideal time for a visit.”

“I’d tend to agree with you. But this trip comes six years too late.”

There’s sadness in his tone, and Satine reaches out to pull one of his hands so that it rests beneath her, bordered by her own.

“My advisor wrote me into his will. I wasn’t in the right headspace to deal with it when I graduated, and I’ve been putting it off ever since. Maybe my way of pretending he’s not really gone? Anyway.”

Satine feels his lips on her shoulder blade, his beard scratching her skin.

“He left me his field notes and his key informant interview recordings. Maybe there was something important in there he wanted me to publish.”

She holds his hand more tightly. “Kind of morbid to include that in his will, don’t you think?”

She feels him shrug. “I thought so at first, too, but…Russia wasn’t a safe place to do field work. He knew that. And Anakin let slip he told you what I thought my advisor was really doing over there, so maybe he had his reasons for being morbid. He had a life-partner, Tahl, who oversaw the will. The two of them were incredibly low profile, so much so that I only learned of Tahl's existence after he died. It'll be the first time I meet her.”

Ben squeezes her fingers.

“At any rate, there’s this incredible woman here in the District whom I’m trying to convince of my emotional availability, and I figure that this trip is a good first step.”

Satine ducks her head to kiss his knuckles, and she feels Ben’s lips return to her scapula.

“But in regard to vacation,” says Ben, “I meant this summer. You’ll have moved in. Now, we didn’t actually talk about this, but I’m assuming that means you’ll give up your apartment, right?”

Satine nods. “If word got around that I still had it, I think it would make people question whether I was fully committed.”

He’s kissing the crook of her neck now. “Well, when you move in, that’s only one location the two of us have to pay rent on, as opposed to two. We should splurge - would you like to go to the beach? I assume you can work from anywhere, and the only class I’m teaching in the summer term is online anyway.”

“You just want an excuse to get me in a bikini and be able to feel me up whenever I need to reapply sunscreen. Which, fortunately for you, is quite often.”

“So is that you giving your approval?” His lips are on the nape of her neck, moving to her other shoulder.

“Perhaps,” says Satine.

His hands suddenly flip her over, and she knows he wants to study her expression. “Perhaps?” he quotes.

But the cold air against her skin makes Satine suddenly hyper-aware that she had neglected to wear a bralette to bed last night. Ben seems to notice at the exact moment she does.

“Let’s come back to this discussion,” he says. “I’m finding myself momentarily distracted.”

Satine quirks a brow. “Oh?”

Ben leans toward her. “Is this okay?” he whispers, watching her eyes. When she nods, he kisses the side of one breast.

Satine closes her eyes, letting herself sink back into the pillows.

He licks her skin, swirling his tongue around her nipple. 

“I told you,” he says, his voice clipped, “back when we met again, that you were more beautiful than ever. And even then, I had no fucking idea how right I was.”

He returns his attention to her skin.

Satine smiles as she feels his fingers move to her other breast, kneading her nipple. “Ben,” she whispers, opening her eyes, and he looks up at her, curious. “Can we just do this? Not go any further. Just this.” She closes her eyes again. “It feels…it feels so good.”

“I’m yours to command,” Ben says, and the reverence in his tone could make her cry.

She reaches out to tangle her fingers in his hair, holding him to her.

[jotaroslooseeyebrowhair]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Danny Phantom, Batman - All Media Types Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Danny Fenton & Jason Todd Characters: Danny Fenton, Clockwork (Danny Phantom), Gotham City, Jason Todd, Red Hood Additional Tags: Angst, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Protective Jason Todd, Danny Fenton Needs A Hug, Not Phantom Planet Compliant (Danny Phantom), BAMF Danny, BAMF Jason Todd, Sentient Gotham City, de-aged Danny Phantom, De-Aged Danny Fenton Summary:

Danny finally escaped his parents, and in his muddled thought process, went to see his mentor, clockwork. Clockwork, however, had no clue what to do and took Danny to his dear old friend, Gotham. Going along with this game of halfa telephone, Gotham took the now six-year-old boy to her most trustworthy knight.

tag list sobs

@starkcravingmad @terzatheunderscorerima @sunsetdew0101 @onyxlightdragon @ace-aro-agender @roseinbloom02 @aikoiya @theeclecticenquirer @blacksea21090 @the-legal-shipper @paperlicense687 @cursedchaosboys @corfinnsunrise @ascetic-orange @eonic @frostedthroughghost @bluebeariis @readerkayden @reach-for-the-horizon @xno-more-smilesx @undead-essence @f3rn4nd4 @fisticuffsatapplebees @smol5slytherin @littlefeather345 @welcometosasakiworld @phoenixcatch7 @bun-fish @always-be-a-stranger @suppengott @mimilikey @nerdypaintbrush @icedbluesoul @enderglace @09shell-sea09 @arandomturd @lesling123 @ae-vixrose @nedwec

[siconetribal]

Beyond the Bookshelves (9)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Frustration, Impatience, Time taking forever, Loki still not getting anyone's title right

Summary: You’re a Resource Management Specialist at S.H.I.E.L.D. normally referred to as “The Librarian”. You’ve been assigned the nightmarish task of digitizing all the physical resources currently owned by the agency, with a few new computers and one extra helper.

A/N:

Please comment/like/reblog. If you’d like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know! (If I missed any tags, please let me know, I’ll add you right away!) I’d also greatly appreciate it if rebloggers remember to add the tags (or some at least).

The lovely banners used in this fic are from @cafekitsune.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

Two more days?! The plastic and metal rectangular deceive creaked from the intensity of the grip, moments away from breaking. “What does she mean, ‘just two more days’,” he sneered the words, launching the device into the leather cushion as he stood up from his couch. It bounced up and plummeted to the carpeted floor with a muffled thud that was masked by the rapid steps of the pacing god. “It is not ‘just’ two more days, she has failed to respond to me multiple times, and she dares to say it’s a mere two extra days? I’ve been going mad in this overly decorated prison tower with nothing new to read! Had she looked at my earlier texts, she could have easily changed the order while on site at those other facilities!” He curled his lips inwards and pressed down on them, coming to an abrupt halt as he clenched his fist and took a few deep breaths, running a hand through his hair. This was unacceptable. He was a prince, and she was supposed to answer to him. Regardless of professional ranking, he outranked her socially. She was a mere Midgardian, and he was one of the great Asgardians, whom her kind revered as gods once upon a time. He knew the Librarian was aware of this, she was well-informed and managed the resources of this organization. And yet, here she was able to cripple him, bend his knee and ask that she return his clearance to enter the library. “She will pay. I will make sure of it.” He hissed the words through gritted teeth.

The spoke words worked like a charm, dispelling his anger as a calm fell over him. His frigid body temperature quickly warmed, and the frost that was beginning to coat the surrounding furniture and floor quickly evaporated. He walked around the sleek coffee table and picked up the abused phone. Tapping the screen to life, he reread her message again. However, this time he focused his attention on her other words. There, in black text, were the words ‘I trust you’. How could she trust him? He was the unforgivable, irredeemable villain who terrorized the world and nearly lay waste to the entirety of the city he was currently in. The very city where she worked and most likely lived in with loved ones and kin. He was the monster that needed to be caged and monitored, never to be trusted. And yet, here she was giving it away to just anyone? He scoffed and rolled his eyes at the naïveté.

No one in their right mind would give me their trust wholeheartedly. This has to be one of those sayings these Midgardians have. What were they called? Me-mes? He relaxed back into the couch, lips scrunched to one side and eyebrows furrowed. “She has to be out of her mind, there is no other plausible option.” The hushed words seemed to echo in the silence of his suite. Painful and sharp, there was no other explanation. “Why else would she wait for an apology from a prince?” He rubbed at his chest to ease the uncomfortable ache that swirled above his heart. “At least she is fine.” The words lingered on the tip of his tongue, but were never spoken. He had too much on his mind at the moment to care about yet another oddity that linked to this queer young woman, it would be something to worry about another time.

Y/N sneezed for what had to be the tenth time within the last hour. She knew planes could be a bit chilly, but she was well bundled up and currently comfortable. Pressing the inside of one of her wrists to her forehead, she tried to assess her temperature.

“I don’t feel warm, but it must be fatigue getting the better of me. I’ve been running all over the freaking globe getting all this set up.” She gently massaged her forehead, closing her eyes to ease any potential sensory overload of her exhausted body. The only solace she had was that everything was set into place and the other locations could begin scanning all the documents they have into the database. She would start the scanning process in the main branch as well. She knew traveling to and fro from the various bases was a waste of valuable resources and, most importantly, precious time. With only two translators, who were not even always readily available; it was better to have them read through scanned files when she could nab them, instead of letting them look at the physical text in person. “This is the most efficient way to do this. They’ll read and translate it, I’ll transcribe and upload it.” Easier said than done, Y/LN, easier said than done. She rolled her wrists and flexed her fingers with grim foreboding, the ghosts of cramps future coming to haunt her like the ghost of Christmas future did Scrooge.

“I’d joke about retiring early after this, but I don’t think this task will end soon enough for it to be considered ‘early’ anymore. What did I do to deserve this punishment anyway? At least Scrooge as a miserly jerk, what karmic deity did I piss off in a past life?” Rubbing the back of her neck, she reclined the seat and shut her eyes, sneezing one more time before falling into a deep slumber.

Two hellish days sluggishly ticked by as Loki impatiently awaited the return of the little nuisance known as the Librarian. The fact that he knew she would be back seemed to make the wait all the more insufferable. Each time he looked at the clock, it was as if the hands were frozen in place. A part of him even wondered if Stark somehow caught wind of her reply and purposely adjusted every clock that he happened to look to show that no time had passed at all. The younger prince knew it was not plausible because Stark had gone on his mission with Thor and some others. They left days prior to her response. He was in this infernal hell because fate was cruel. The only thing keeping him sane were his own meetings and training sessions. Only then did time seem to move properly, instead of slower than molasses.

Great, I’m thinking in such weird terms because of all the time I’ve been forced to spend with the Lieutenant Chatterbox. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. Never mind that, today is the day. He glanced at his phone’s lock screen. There was a notification with the date that read: Return of the diabolical librarian. As soon as the clock struck eight, Loki left his quarters and made his way to the sanctuary he was unlawfully denied access to. He could have left early and been at the door just as it was to be opened, but he decided to have some leniency and give her a fair ten or so minutes to prepare. He was a magnanimous ruler, he would hear her out before deciding whether she left with malicious intent or not.

Standing before the wooden double doors, Loki hesitated for a moment. He gripped his key card that hung from a badge reel on his suit jacket. He eyed the speaker system above his head, knowing full well that the same grating computer voice will spew the same words that have been haunting him for weeks now. This time, he had a response, though. He would tell it that the Librarian has asked for him to come speak with her, and it would verify with her before allowing him entry. If not, he would use his magic to transport himself to the main desk and calmly request that she upheld her word of removing the hold. Pressing the card to the scanner, he watched the red light turn green and heard the chime of it being registered. A click from the speaker above signaled it had been activated. His jaw tightened as he took another deep breath, anticipating the rejection.

Tags: @vbecker10 @huntress-artemiss @softestqueeen @thegodofnotknowing @princess-ofthe-pages @firedrakegirl @rcailleachcola @cabingrlandrandomcrap @lotrefcp @lwtannie @jainaeatsstars @msdjsg7 @tom-hlover @kneelingformyloki @gruftiela @gigglingtiggerv2 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @evalynanne @wolfsmom1

[nanaminokanojo]

ACCIDENTALLY IN LOVE | part 48

-meet cute? a cheesy musical number? forget it! love makes itself known to you through a minor car accident, a broken arm, and a treacherously charming temporary chauffeur

CHARACTERS: sukuna x you/reader | jjk characters

GENRE: full-length smau + prose | bad boy x good girl | college au | a lot of firsts | aged-up characters | strangers to lovers | smut | fluff | angst | ooc depictions - soft sukuna ftw

TW/CW: strong/mature language | adult content so mdni on some parts | mentions of alcohol and/or smoking | mentions of injury, promiscuity and bullying | pet names because they're cute with 2D men | toxic behavior | will add more if something arises

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<prev part 48 next>>

A/N: Contains prose with panels in between. Mind the order.

"Don't you have anything to review for?" you asked Sukuna who was walking beside you on your way to the library. You were surprised to see him after your class, leaning against the wall and pushing himself off it the moment he saw you. He was sporting that usual smirk as he threw his jacket over his shoulder.

“I do my reading at my own time.” He walked beside you. “Mind if I tag along with you?”

“I’m going to the library. Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll go anywhere with you.”

“Your call.”

Your exams were coming and you had every plan to get in as much studying as you could on your breaks when you weren't hanging out with him and his friends. It was unexpected how your schedules seemed to have shifted from just minding your studies and your engagements with charities to adding socializing and actually investing time to be with them. You didn't regret a single thing about it, thankful that you've met them and they wanted you around just for the very purpose of having fun. It was good to have friends for once.

He glanced at you. "Getting sick of me now?"

"That's not what I meant." Your steps faltered, panicking for a second, but you calmed down when you saw how he was suppressing a snicker. You pouted at him. "I should be asking you that. You're the one being inconvenienced."

"No and no. Not in a million years." He slung an arm over your shoulder. "I wouldn't even be here if I didn't want to be."

Just as quickly as he had put his arm around you, he let go when this crowd of girls suddenly flocked around him like crows to a piece of meat. You immediately stood aside, immediately reading into whom they were after, smirking at his direction when you saw the helpless look on his face. 

"Sukuna, you haven't been showing up at parties," one of the girls said, latching onto his arm while the others agreed, asking him one question after the other.

It got you thinking how many of them he had kissed like he kissed you, how many of them received his undivided attention which, although offered at a limited time, still counted in the same manner as yours did in that it was genuine human interaction. You may not be sleeping with him like all those other girls were but you were no different from them where your bond with Sukuna was concerned. 

Almost the whole time since you got injured, his attention remained on you. You’d like to think he was paying special attention to you, but then he wasn't yours, and he may leave when you've recovered. So, why were you suddenly feeling strangely upset over the fact that these other females were surrounding him, treating him like they knew him better than you did? 

"I'll be at the library," you told him, as you walked ahead. You didn't like what you were seeing, and although you couldn't do anything about how you felt, you had the choice and will not to act on it. 

You've already found a seat at the farthest corner of the library you could find, your notes spread on the table in the organized manner you always do when he finally showed up. His arrival wasn't something you expected at all, but he was there anyway, pouting at you as he pulled out the chair beside you, trying hard not to make a noise. But his presence has always been loud, something that made itself known with the least effort, enough to fill your apartment with life whenever he was around. 

"Why did you leave me out there, bunny?" he whispered. His lower lip jutted out, his chin on the heel of his palm. 

Pretending to be busy with sorting your stuff out, you didn’t even look at him. “Sukuna, you’re whining.” You glanced at him when he didn’t say anything before turning your book to the next page. "You looked busy there. I didn't want to be a party pooper." 

"That was hardly a party," he complained. 

"It looked like it."

He just looked at you as if he sensed something off, but you pretended not to notice and continued reading. But then he asked, "Do you disapprove of my…uh…habits?" 

You shook your head, glad that your opinion mattered enough for him to ask. "I'm not in any position to say anything…” 

Your words hung in the air, promoting him to say, “But?”

“I can't say I'm for it either." 

Sukun arched a brow at you, fighting a smile yet cautiously asking, "Why not?" 

"Well, they're bound to haunt you someday, especially when they get in the way of things you want to achieve in the future."

“How?”

You shrugged, setting you book down. “What if you genuinely like somebody but they don’t agree with what you do? Or it gets in the way of you making connections you need for certain purposes.” 

Sukuna grinned cheekily at you. "So, you worry about my future?" 

Detecting his teasing tone, you brought your book down, meeting his gaze squarely. "Yes."

It was his turn to be speechless at your honest response, so you felt the need to explain yourself.

"I don't need reason just to wish you well even if you were a stranger. It's the same as not having any reason to wish you ill."

"How are you a real person? The world doesn't deserve you." 

You just chuckled at his sentiment. "I'm hardly perfect, Sukuna, but I consider you my friend after all, the first one I made on my own," you lifted your injured arm, "although it needed a little push."

He pulled away slowly, confusion drawing itself across his handsome features. “Just a friend?” he asked, sounding disappointed, but you immediately saw through his ploy to mess with you. 

“You’re really good at this,” you told him, shaking your head as you returned your attention to the book.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You didn’t satisfy that with a response, grinning to yourself instead.

TAG LIST: @catobsessedlady @kyo-kyo1 @junehasnotbeenfound @lavender-hvze @guacam011y @eyered @hellomeow12 @its-princessmara @light-yagami-l @domainofmarie @mythoscalliope @noble-17 @pheonix-eclipses @weebbuscuit @sukunasbudussy @lu-c1na @vinnieswife @the-haitani-baton @iaminyourfloors @needtoloveoutloud @r-ryuko09 @somestardeww @swirlingcurses @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @bronze-metal @iluv-ace @kidd3ath @multifandomloner @ichorstainedskin @ti-mame @hellyyy06

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI’S “JUJUTSU KAISEN”. [20240608]

PHOTOS/IMAGES/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS GO TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[notjustjavierpena]

Him

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Part 3 of Mean!Joel coming straight to ya. This is a big mishmash of emotions, I’m sorry, but something has to lead to part 4.

Summary: You find a dress during a supplies run but Joel doesn’t give a shit about you looking nice for him.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (MDNI!), dub-con and mentions of non-con, dirty talk, painful and rough PIV sex, unprotected sex, creampie, choking, fingering, pussy slapping

Word count: 4.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48179338/chapters/121494847

Him

There’s the distinct smell of mold and old basement in the abandoned apartment complex. Joel has told you to stay close to him, but as soon as he tells you that the place is clear, you wander off and he grumbles something about it being your funeral. 

“Only what’s necessary,” he had said on the way up the stairs, still clutching onto his rifle as if something could come out of the shadows any second despite your thorough investigation of the place.

You go through each room of your selected condo, but there is nothing interesting to be found. There had been a convenience store last week which had been picked over except for a few toothbrushes. You had given the toothbrushes to a couple of the kids back at Jackson, but still been bummed that you have yet to find something that you can take home just for yourself. Last month, some of the other women had found a box of old 2000s clothes and you had been disappointed at not having been there with them as they chose whatever they wanted. You are still empty-handed. 

That is, until now. 

In the master bedroom, you go through the clothes that whoever used to live here has left behind. It isn’t a particularly thrilling closet, but you think it almost feels like shopping as you push the hangers to the side along the metal bar one by one. Everything has been eaten by moths.

“Find anything?” Joel pops his head through the door, walks closer a second after to see what you are doing. He rolls his eyes, “Find anything of importance?”

You give him a pointed look, but he just returns it. 

“These are boring anyw—“ you stop at a garment that’s wrapped in a protective travel bag made of plastic. It makes you raise a brow, unzipping the front of the garment bag only to reveal a short, expensive-looking cocktail dress. You pull it off its hanger and hold it up in front of you, “I think this is my size.”

“Yippee,” he deadpans, but you see him glancing down at the garment and you hope that he is imagining you in it, “I said only useful things.” 

“You actually said necessary,” you remind him and he scoffs, shifts, and turns away from you. Anyone who witnesses your interaction will never guess that you are sleeping together, but you like the fact that you despise him outside of the bedroom. It makes it even more fun and satisfying when he finally gives in to come fuck you. 

You feel the satin fabric between your fingers. It’s in good condition, having been saved from moths by being packed away in a plastic garment bag. It’s a classic little black dress where the hem stops just above the knees and the slit in the side leaves just enough for the imagination. You hook your fingers into the spaghetti straps and watch the way the fabric falls around the chest area. It’s very simple and elegant, and nothing like anything you’ve ever owned, “I like it. I’m taking it with me.” 

“Whatever,” Joel says after a sigh.

You stuff the dress into your bag, determined to restore it to its former glory. 

*

Joel never tells you when he will stop by and you don’t ask in case it will come off as begging for his attention. Despite this, you have a hunch of his intention to have his way with you whenever he starts acting differently around you; looks at you whenever he thinks you aren’t paying attention to him, ravishing you with his eyes that get just a little bit darker than when he normally glances your way. 

Additionally, he gets more short-tempered with your never-ending snark, and you swear that today you could see his hand twitch by his side as if he was desperate to yank you away from the rest, itching to grab whatever he could in that moment even if it meant pulling you back to your place by your hair. It had really set your next encounter in stone when you’d called him a caveman without the others hearing. The rest of the day had been him fidgeting like crazy.

You know that he doesn’t realize these tells, because he’d never give you the satisfaction of having him figured out, but oh how you wish that his stupid, overly aggressive behavior is deliberate and all for you. 

You look at yourself in the bedroom mirror after sliding on the dress, knowing you’ll see him soon because he is a man of habit and you’re his vice. 

It is rare that you see yourself dressed up like this, but the butterflies that you feel in your stomach as you gaze at your reflection make you certain that Joel will like this in just the right way.

At that, the butterflies move down between your legs where you are not wearing anything to cover you. You dip your hand between your thighs, pushing the fabric inwards, and it over your mound. You try to tell yourself that you’ve skipped the underwear because it would be visible underneath the fabric of the dress, but you know the real reason is him. You hate yourself for hating him to the point where he floods your mind whenever he isn’t here. 

You want to pull the dress up over your hips, rub your clit that’s throbbing in anticipation, but instead, you just wait.

*

When your waiting comes to an end, you hear Joel violently open the front door downstairs, ripping at the handle and calling your name multiple times to which you do not respond. There’s always a game here; where it had started out being a real refusal of him, it has turned into something else. The moment he had made you come the first time, you knew there was no going back to what was before. Now, you enjoy the cat-and-mouse act where you want him to corner you. 

Joel looks tense and impatient when he steps into your bedroom, but he doesn’t say anything for you to read the tone of his voice. He is aggressively shrugging off his jacket, biting into a leather glove’s fingertip to pull it off his hand before moving to the other and doing the same. 

The gloves suggest that he has worked late today and not showered as you have, that he has taken his frustrations towards you out on hard labor but to no avail; he has still walked in here, too turned on to pass your house on his way home. 

His outerwear ends up on the floor beside him and then he stalks after you. He is hard in his jeans, his eyes cold and black with desire, and for some reason, you find yourself backing away just because he still hasn’t opened his mouth.

“Get the fuck back here,” he seethes. He grabs your arm and pulls, too fast for you as you try to take another step away, “Why didn’t you come when I called ya?”

“Sorry, I-I…”

“You come when I call. Full stop,” he traps you against your bedroom wall and doesn’t acknowledge the dress whatsoever. The hand on your arm slides up until it rests at your throat, squeezing without doing too much damage to your windpipe whilst he examines your face. He needs you to talk, “Do you understand?”

His nostrils flare whilst you nod frantically. The grip on your throat has you lightheaded, but you think that you might want it like this, to be just on the edge of getting tunnel vision so you can see only him. He looks beautiful like this, you think, angry like a God, but your thoughts are interrupted and you moan as he shakes you a little.

“Words, use ‘em, you fuckin’ bimbo.”

“Yes, I understand,” you croak, but he mustn’t think that you give in so easily. There are a million snarky comments to select from in your head, but he doesn’t give you time to choose your favorite when he makes you cough as he lets go of your neck.

“You needa take this stupid fuckin’ dress off or I’ll rip it to pieces. You know I will,” he growls, and you bite your tongue to keep yourself from saying something to spite him. Something to hurt his huge masculine ego and compare him to a Neanderthal. So much for looking nice for his pleasure. 

Additionally, so much for scrubbing the fabric of the dress you had found in the abandoned condo until your hands were raw. In the end, it doesn’t surprise you that he doesn’t give a damn because he hadn’t even been enthusiastic when you had shown it to him during your supplies patrol together. You’d hoped that it had just been because he hadn’t seen you in it.

With a sour expression, you yank at the straps and Joel lets out a condescending huff of a laugh as he watches. You slide the straps off your shoulders and down your arms until you can pull at the top of the dress to guide it down your body. When it reaches the swell of your hips, you wiggle your ass until it pools at your feet. Joel goes quiet at the realization that you’ve gone commando.

“You were prepared, huh? Easy fuckin’ access. All I had to do was just pull it up over your ass, but ya wanted me to find out like this,” Joel tuts, immediately placing a foot between your feet. Gross, you think to yourself at hearing those words but you also realize, with the way that your walls flutter in a delicious clench of your cunt, that you like gross. Joel holds a hand out, and you get ready for the worst, but he simply cups your whole mound in his enormous hand, “Filthy girl, I fuck you that good? So good you wanna be ready for cock like that?” 

All confidence seeps out of you in an instant, because fuck, he is touching you and you almost forget how much it turns you into a little obedient dog. You gasp and find yourself pathetically nodding in an aroused state that has taken hold of you so quickly that you are feeling dizzy. You think, perhaps, that it has something to do with how it felt the last time the two of you were together. You don’t think you’ve ever come so many times in a row, kicking your legs, crying and screaming in pleasure as he reveled in your painful oversensitivity. He had promised that it would hurt, and it did, deliciously, for several days afterward. You miss being able to have a reminder of him with every step you take.

You realize now that the dress probably came off as a laughable attempt at making him have his wicked way with you once more instead of pleasing him.

Pleasing him. 

Pleasing. Him.

Fuck.

Two thick fingers press into you and the ability to elaborate on the thought of wanting to do something nice for him disappears. Instead, you keen loudly and throw yourself back into the wall with a thump. He sinks his digits knuckle-deep into your sex, and it hurts because he doesn’t give you time to adjust. 

You furrow your brows, looking down at where the heel of his hand is pushing into your clit. You take what you can get to soothe the stretch of your pussy, grinding your hips into his palm with a mewl. Your mouth hangs open in an o-shape and you’re already panting for him, desperate to come as he harshly takes his annoyance out on your g-spot. His fingers are warm inside of you from the gloves despite how he has just come from the outside, and they drag deliciously outwards along your walls again and again. 

It makes you come with a soft cry not long after. He settles his fingers inside of your cunt as you clamp down on them, a gush of your arousal dripping down into his palm as you shake and try to hold yourself up. 

Joel laughs at the dazed look in your eyes when you come down. He thrusts his fingers inside of you once more without warning before removing them altogether, smirking at the gasp you let out from being empty so soon again.

“Joel.”

You don’t know why you’re saying his name, but it makes him go a little softer. He still has his hand between your legs, fingers slowly sliding back and forth through your slick folds. It feels good, your hips stuttering each time the pads of his fingers slip across your clit, “Ya want more, sweetheart? Tell me what ya want. Ain’t that hard to use your words.”

“I missed you,” you dare to breathe because it’s true. Although it’s not so much him as it is the way he makes you feel between your legs.

He brings down his hand on your pulsing mound and clit. It makes you nearly fall to your knees but he catches you, wrapping his strong arms around you as you slump against him. It’s the post-orgasmic sensitivity that’s making it hurt like you didn’t know it could, and suddenly you have tears in your eyes from the stinging heat the slap has left. You quickly blink them away because he spits abuse at you, and you won’t give him the satisfaction of making you come and then cry, “Shut the fuck up. Don’t give me any of that pussy shit.” 

It’s a weird contrast to being held, but you suppose that he can’t fuck you if you fall face-first into the wooden floorboards and earn yourself a bad concussion. You wouldn’t put it past him though, knowing he’d probably laugh at the gibberish that you’d blabber as you came on his dick without being able to recall it the next day. 

Joel carries you in his arms, drags your feet across the floor until he can throw you onto your bed. You lie on top of the covers and look at him with glazed eyes, watching him unbuckle his belt and shove his jeans down impatiently. He undresses the rest of himself in a hurry, showing little mercy for the flannel he is wearing as he nearly pops off its buttons. It seems like a chase to get to you, but Joel has no opponents, and he’ll never have any. 

“If ya can’t use your mouth for anything other than soundin’ like a little girl begging for my attention, then you might as well have it put to other use,” he says matter-of-factly. He kneels onto the bed then, crawls forward on his knees, and settles one on either side of your head. 

His dick impressively stands into the air, an angry red color to the head that begs for touch and threatens to drip with precome. It’s never felt more inviting to suck him off, even despite the obvious unease that you’d felt the last time that he had had his dick in your mouth. 

When the bead of precome finally becomes too big and slides down his length, you respond by greedily letting your mouth fall open. He slides the fat head past your lips. The girth of him already has your jaw aching, but you take him in as far as you can and use your fist for what doesn’t fit. Your wrist twists as you work him in unison with your mouth. 

You set up a slow pace, bobbing your head despite the knowledge of how strained your neck will be in the morning when you are lying down like this. The strain is worth it all though, because you earn a moan from him. It tells you exactly how you’re doing; it’s low and guttural above you. Your pussy screams for more. 

With your lips closed around him, you suck him off in earnest to get another reaction. You hollow your cheeks whenever you draw off of him, and whilst you’re at the tip, you run the flat of your tongue along the sensitive underside. 

Not that it should surprise you at this point, but no matter how hard you try to start slow and steady, Joel becomes enthusiastic about his own pleasure very quickly and it leaves very little empathy for you. He thrusts forwards, practically burying his cock down your windpipe and you immediately start to shed big, wet tears. 

“Fuck,” he moans quietly into the room. He stares down at you, one large hand cupping your cheek to hold you in place if you try to squirm away. Your tears slide down over the back of his hand, but he doesn’t comment on it. 

Your whimper vibrates along his hard length as he starts using your throat. With his generous size, it’s hard to breathe without choking. The air simply won’t go down your lungs in the way this overwork on your body demands. It causes you to drool, slicking his dick as spit pools in your mouth. It begins to dribble down your chin, his balls smacking wetly against it.

You’re a complete and utter mess beneath him with your nose buried in his happy trail. You take his brutal stabs to the back of your throat in stride and relax your neck muscles to take him as far as humanly possible. 

His free hand curls around your hair. Occasionally, he pulls it instead of moving his hips. Your head swims, your tears flow and your throat continuously gags with obscenely wet noises. He is so noisy above you. It keeps focus on your throbbing clit instead of your pained jaw.

From his breathing, you can hear that Joel is getting closer to coming. He gets a little louder, hips stuttering and dick pulsing just a bit more on your tongue. He suddenly pulls back with a force that tells you that he has used every fiber of self-restraint to do it. You didn’t think that his caveman behavior would make him able to edge himself.

“Shit, that was too close,” he grits out between pants, moving back on you again until he is between your legs. He squeezes around the base of his cock whilst you cough violently. 

“Can’t handle a little deep-throating?” You tease hoarsely.

“Fuck you,” he snaps, mercilessly pulling your legs apart by reaching behind himself and grabbing your ankles. He digs his nails into your legs as he slides his hands upward again, smacks one of your thighs aggressively, jiggling the flesh after.

“Yes, please,” you moan at the tiny sting he has caused to your upper leg, “Please, Joel. Fuck me.” 

“Turn around,” he commands. 

“But I wanna see you,” you start but it sounds way too sugary, “-r face when you come inside me.” 

“Yeah? Well, I don’t wanna see ya,” he says with little affection, drawing a circle in the air, “Do as you’re told and turn around. I can leave if—“

“No!” You protest a little too quickly. It earns you a smug smile that tells you Joel’s ego has grown three sizes in a mere second. God, you despise how needy he makes you. 

You move onto your front, lying flat on your belly. You turn your face to the side, grabbing at whatever of the sheets you can curl your fingers into. Joel shuffles behind you, reaches for your hips to angle your pelvis and you help him by bending your knees and pushing your legs out to the sides. 

Suddenly, his crushing weight is on top of you so he can whisper filth in your ear and keep you on the verge of insanity as you wait for him. You let out a soft sound as air is knocked out of your lungs and you feel like your pelvis might snap in half. It helps that his lips attach to the space where your neck meets your shoulder, biting more than sucking. 

“Gonna make ya cream yourself on my dick, honey,” he promises with confidence in his voice, still high on his ego trip from before. Your body responds with several somersaults in your lower abdomen, your pussy clenching at its emptiness and demand for more.  

“Oh fuck, Joel, n-need you to make it hurt… till I can’t breathe, baby.”

“Yeah?” He stretches again, gets comfortable on his knees, and jiggles the flesh of your behind before smacking your ass hard. He spreads your cheeks to spit down the cleft of your ass, watching it run down over your puckered hole and further down over your pussy. It earns you a groan, “This pussy is so ready for me. Look at it drippin’.”

Then you feel him pushing into you with brutal force until you can do nothing else, but mewl weakly. It feels like he is splitting you open right down the middle of your lower body, rough hands holding you in place by your waist.

He never fails to give you exactly what you ask for. Even despite this, you put on a show of trying to crawl away from him and you’re rewarded by another hard slap to your ass. Joel moans as it makes you clench around him. 

“You stay right here where I want ya,” he growls, setting up a rhythm that makes you want to sob. He is bruising you to the point where your eyes water, filling you to the brim with every thrust and slamming the fat head of his cock into your front wall where his little favorite spot is. When you whine loudly and wantonly, he laughs darkly, “Greedy little whore. You’re fucking shameless, ain’t you? Don’t even try— fuck. You don’t even try to hide how much you want it.” 

“Yes, fuck Joel, keep going,” you egg him on as your g-spot is getting the treatment it needs to make you scream. You arch your back a little by lifting your head from the mattress, and Joel takes it as an opportunity to slide his right hand around the front of your throat until he can contort your body to accept each hard thrust without slipping away. 

The new angle makes you grip the sheets so hard that you think you might tear the fabric. Fuck it, you think, they’re old ones anyway, and with the way that you are gushing around Joel’s dick, you think you might just throw them out after this. There’s no way you’re going to give them the same treatment as the dress if no one will appreciate it.

Joel’s hand moves up to cup your whole jaw. His other hand is bound to leave a mark on your hip bone, bracing himself on it as he pounds you until he can feel tears run down over the fingers on your chin. He kisses your back, slides his tongue up to your shoulder where he plants a wet kiss. It helps with staying focused and soothes you a little as he relentlessly moves inside of you. 

He tilts your head back afterward, moves his hips a little forwards without slipping out to tower over your body. His thumb drags down on your chin, leaving your mouth a little open.

And then he kisses you for the first time ever, right on your open mouth whilst bottoming out over and over inside of your cunt right where you need him the most. You melt into his lips, delirious with pleasure that’s sending you closer to the edge and pain that’s going to linger for a few days. 

But it’s neither the pain nor pleasure that unravels you in his arms. It’s the fact that you are being allowed something so intimate from him, causing tears to spill as he tears down the pleasure that he’s built inside of your belly. You come with a feeble sob, clamping down on his cock which feels bigger now that your cunt is quivering with pleasurable shocks. 

It’s too much for him. He thrusts a few times more before his hips stutter. He buries himself inside your pussy, the tip of his dick nudging your cervix. You feel his warm load fill you up, wet squelches echoing through your quiet bedroom as he fucks you through his aftershocks. 

Your thighs are aching, your fingers too. Your cunt is a whole other story, painfully sensitive as he pulls out with a moan and rolls off of you. 

It doesn’t matter. Absolutely none of it matters. Not a single fucking thing matters besides the way that he is pulling you down onto his chest, still kissing you on the lips, roughly in the beginning, but slowly now that his energy is spent.

After a while, he starts to move. 

“No,” you whine, “Stay. Please.”

“I can’t,” he mumbles, “That ain’t how this works.”

He leaves ten minutes later, but you ache more from heartbreak than the bruises that have started to form on your skin.

.

.

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[jasondeansgothwife]

lawlight fic rec list

so i’m gonna do a series of these, starting with my favorite death note ship! make sure to pay attention to all warnings on these fics. enjoy! if you have a ship you’d like me to make a rec list for, please just send me an ask! i don’t want to be obnoxious, and i’m not saying they’re good, but i (slackjawbitch on ao3) have some lawlight fics up!

♡ = a favorite of kitty’s

angst

♡ 1. i’m drowning; please save me: L looks at Yagami Light and drowns. There is no other way to put it. As the days pass and blend into weeks, L looks at Yagami Light sitting next to him, the harsh lines of his face creased and determined, and he swallows water.

L looks at Yagami Light and he cannot breathe.

great characterization, always makes me very emo, and is probably a pretty major influence on my writing. one shot. 1,817 words.

2. always waiting for you just to cut to the bone: And then, breaking through the pounding in his head he hears what would be the last words out of that wretched man’s lips.

“I love you.”

fic for teh death note drama (2016) canon! title is unfortunately from a t*ylor sw*ft song (/silly) but this fic is so good and sad.

3. Our Bodies, Possessed By Light: L. Lawliet is a gifted photographer who believes he has understood the light and its secrets. Light Yagami is a young, unstable and slightly crooked model. Together, they kill time.

modeling and photography au. make sure to read all teh tags and warnings for this one; there’s nothing gross, but some potentially triggering subjects for some people are in here. multi chapter. 81,218 words.

4. Hearts and Spades: Which would you choose? Love or death? RaitoL, slight AU.

short but sweet piece featuring that classic fanfiction dot net era vibe, an emo-ass playing card metaphor (/pos), and a recounting of l’s death scene that made me sad over him all over again (also /pos). and also light being obnoxious, but it’s death note, so that’s usually a given, lol. one shot. 1,801 words.

5. Not Quite Drowning: Sometimes Light ponders happiness. L/Light

a short lawlight and light character study. i like it a lot, and i don’t usually like light, so that should tell you something about how well i think it’s written! one shot. 424 words.

♡ 6. Water, water, water: In the bath, they forget they’re a detective and a suspect; they remove these identities along with their clothes, layer by layer until there are only the handcuffs left. And them; facing the other in the eerie calmness of their bathroom.

At least, it’s how Light sees it.

i really love this one! make sure to read teh tags, as eating disorders and drugs are mentioned, for example. angst with a happy ending! one shot. 3,504 words.

fluff

1. Silver Bells: Silver bells...silver bells...

They’ve made it. Everything is okay now, when they’re dancing in the candlelight.

really, really cute! i recommend it as a palate cleanser to make you feel better after reading a sad one, lol. one shot. 1,255 words.

♡ 2. New Year’s Eve: "I've seen fireworks before," he says. "This is... so much... more."

just a cute little new year’s eve lawlight fireworks show! this one is also from 2009 which is kinda cool to me, haha. i like this author’s descriptive language a lot. one shot. 507 words.

♡ 3. Do Gay Penguins Go to Hell?: Too many New Year snacks bring about a family discussion between L, Raito and their daughter about healthy diet, common sayings and nature of good and evil. And gay penguins, of course. AU

a really darling kid fic, based on teh stupid, homophobic controversy over that adorable kids’ book about teh gay penguin couple. one shot. 3,791 words.

4. A Feeling: It's LxLight fluff! This takes place after Light was confined and lost his memories, chained to L. : D SO YUS. SOME FLUFF FOR YAH D: Hope you leik it :D

very cute “l and light cuddle and kiss” fic, written by a scene kid in 2008, which is extra points with me! one shot. 1,006 words.

alright! i will add to this rec list as i find more fics, and i would love it if people would send in their favorite lawlight fics!

[imgeekgirlfan]

The Curse of Cassandra [EP : VII]

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings:  Qimir x f!reader(SEA Reader)  [The Acolyte]

Content Rating : Mature 18+  Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

tags/themes : Alternate Universe - Dune & Star wars, Partners in Crime, Strangers to Lovers

Summary: You start a new life on the planet Olega with the man you love. If your life were a novel, this would be the happy ending. But fate never lets you rest. One day, you find yourself facing three unfamiliar Jedi, and one of them, a Jedi Knight named Yord, captures your attention in an inexplicable way.

Status: finished writing this fic! (It will end in Episode 14)

A/N : Since there are more chapters now, if you don’t want to miss any updates, you can ask me to add your username for notifications whenever a new chapter is posted. Just let me know in a reply, and I’ll make sure you’re included in the next update.

ps. I'll be in Singapore for the F1 from this Thursday until next Tuesday, so I'll pause updating my fic for one week. I hope you can wait patiently.

➡  Intro // EP : 1 // EP : 2 // EP : 3 // EP : 4 // EP : 5 // EP : 6 // EP : 8 // EP : 9 // EP : 10 // EP : 11 // EP : 12 // EP : 13 // EP : 14 (Completed)

Special OS : Phantom Thread

[Episodes 7] It is impossible to live in the past, difficult to live in the present, and a waste to live in the future.

It’s often said that the safest place is also the most dangerous one. 

Perhaps that’s why Qimir chose to remain hidden on Olega, despite it being home to the Jedi Temple, a major stronghold of the galaxy’s peacekeepers.

For most people, there was no reason to fear the Jedi, who were meant to protect them from harm. But that wasn’t the case for you. You remembered well what Qimir had told you: the Jedi were looking for you, too. Even though their exact motives remained unclear, the sense of paranoia never left your mind. Especially after the massacre on Tatooine, you and Qimir felt like fugitives—always just one step away from being caught if any evidence linking you to the crime surfaced and exposed your secret.

You hated being here. Given a choice, you would have fled to some remote planet at the edge of the galaxy. But Qimir had different ideas. “Most of those who know about your bounty are outlaws or trade federations. Neither group gets along with the Jedi, so they won’t be snooping around places where Jedi gather,” he reasoned. “And the Jedi? They’re too preoccupied with galactic affairs to pay much attention to the planet they’re on. Besides, you don’t have the Force, so finding you would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.”

Qimir wasn’t wrong. Life on Olega had turned out to be unexpectedly peaceful. Despite the city’s persistent chaos, it made hiding much easier. You and Qimir had managed to stay under the radar for over a year without major problems. Everything had settled so seamlessly that you almost forgot what it was like to be on the run from other planets.

With no need to keep moving, Qimir had shifted from his life as an illegal mercenary to opening a modest pharmacy. He also worked as a broker, selling medicines and various odds and ends to travelers passing through. Meanwhile, you had taken on the role of his assistant and personal apprentice. Qimir was dedicated to teaching you both the theory and practice of his knowledge, especially in combat. He also encouraged you to continue developing your powers rather than suppressing them as you had before. Like your mother, Qimir believed your abilities were too valuable to be wasted.

“Haven’t you ever thought,” Qimir once said, “that someone like you could rise to replace the Jedi one day? With your power, you could bring far more to the galaxy than they ever could.”

His words seemed absurd, like a far-fetched joke meant to tease you. You laughed every time, confident that such a thing would never happen.

Never getting involved with the Jedi, no matter what, had always been your rule for survival.

But sometimes, fate can be cruelly ironic, and this was a joke that wasn’t amusing at all.

That's what occurs at noon on a Friday—one of fate's cruel jokes when you unexpectedly find yourself face-to-face with a group of Jedi.

It all takes place at Qimir’s pharmacy on a day he isn’t around. Lately, he has been disappearing more frequently—sometimes for two or three hours, or even the better part of a day—claiming he has business to attend to involving herbal shipments from other planets. As a result, you’re left to run the store in his absence, handling the medicines and assisting customers as usual.

But everything changes the moment the shop’s bell rings and the door swings open. Brilliant sunlight floods the store, heralding the arrival of three strangers you’ve never seen before.

One of them is a teenage theelin-human hybrid girl, with paper-white skin adorned with spots and orange hair with small horns encircling her head like a crown. The other two are human men—one middle-aged, with long black hair tied in a half-ponytail, his face stern and serious; the other younger, with sharp features, sun-bronzed skin, and a tall, muscular frame, likely not much older than you.

They couldn’t be more different from each other, except for their identical attire. They’re dressed in light yellow tunics, covered by long brown robes, and each wears a large belt with the unmistakable emblem of the Jedi Order.

Jedi—The realization hits you like a bolt of lightning the moment your eyes land on their belts, and you instinctively draw in a sharp breath.

You quickly wipe your sweaty palms on your skirt, composing yourself with practiced ease. Lifting your head from behind the counter, you address them with a polite, businesslike smile. “How may I assist the three of you today?”

The older man, likely a Jedi Master, introduces himself with courtesy as Sol, while the young girl, his Padawan, is named Jecki. The other young man, a Jedi Knight, is introduced as Yord. “We’re here on a mission,” Sol informs you, his voice laced with concern. “We’re investigating a serious incident that occurred in this city.”

You have no idea what serious incident he’s referring to or how severe it must be to involve the Jedi. For a moment, your mind jumps to the possibility that it might be connected to you—until Jecki explains further, warning you to keep the information strictly confidential.

It turns out that the serious incident is a series of murders currently happening on Olega. Four bodies in four months—each victim a high-ranking Jedi responsible for overseeing the temple here.

"Since the incident is still recent, the killer might be someone who just moved here or snuck into the city illegally," Sol continues. "There are many of these types around the spaceports, which is why we need to increase security in those areas to ensure the safety of the citizens."

You can tell Sol's words hold only a half truth. The Jedi aren't particularly concerned about the lives of citizens since the killer's targets are not random people but specifically high-ranking Jedi.

The presence of the three Jedi at the pharmacy today is no coincidence. As a newcomer here, you're automatically placed among the suspects, though none of them have the nerve to say it outright to your face.

Understanding this, you begin to relax a little. After all, you have nothing to do with these murders, so there's no reason to worry. You just need to play along with the Jedi's charade until it's over.

Sol, the group's leader, takes charge of questioning you, with Jecki also taking part in the interrogation. Most of their questions are basic: had you noticed anything strange or seen any unusual people recently? They also delve into your personal history—your identity, background, and reasons for ending up on this planet.

You respond naturally, mixing truth with lies, careful not to arouse suspicion. You're confident in your ability to act convincingly—that is, until you sense the sharp gaze of the one Jedi in the group who hasn’t said a word.

You furrow your brow, the intense scrutiny from the Jedi named Yord making you increasingly uncomfortable. You try to ignore him, but there's something inexplicably magnetic about his presence—an instinctive urge that draws you to meet his gaze.

At first, you think he's trying to catch you in a lie, but when you see his expression, you're surprised.

He’s not scrutinizing you for deception—he’s staring at you in shock, as if you’re some kind of ghost.

As you peer deeply into his brown eyes with curiosity, time seems to stretch unnaturally long. You find yourself not looking at the present but plunging into the past. Every moment flashes before your eyes like pages of a book flipping by—one year, ten years, a hundred years, up to a thousand years.

Suddenly, your consciousness is yanked back to the present. You startle as your entire body trembles with the icy chill sweeping over you. Pain surges through you like a jolt of electricity, followed by the sticky sensation of blood trickling from your nose.

You know exactly what’s happening. The side effects of your vision are punishing you for seeing what was not meant to be seen.

Closing your eyes, you take slow, deep breaths, trying to steady yourself and acclimate to the pain. As your senses return, you hear Sol’s concerned voice. "Are you all right?"

"I’m fine," you quickly reply, shaking your head while wiping the blood from your nose with a handkerchief. You feign composure, even though the lingering pain continues to gnaw at you from within.

Sol looks at you with disbelief, but he doesn’t press further. His face betrays concern, and you can’t help but think how fitting he is as a Jedi. His every gesture screams 'purity' If goodness had a color, this man would be the brightest white—so blinding it hurts to look at.

The awkward silence breaks as Sol clears his throat, returning to the topic at hand. “We still don’t have any more leads on the perpetrator, other than the fact that they’re highly skilled with weapons—probably a former soldier or maybe...” He trails off, as if he almost let something slip, but catches himself just in time. "Anyway, if you find any suspicious leads, don’t hesitate to contact me or any other Jedi.”

You watch as Sol places a thin metal card on the counter before bidding you farewell with the classic phrase, "May the Force be with you." He and the other Jedi then leave the pharmacy quietly.

You reach for the card, running your fingers along its cold metallic edge. Upon closer inspection, you realize it’s an electronic contact card, storing his information. The front clearly reads, ‘Sol, Human, Jedi Master.

For a brief moment, you consider throwing it far away, but something compels you to tuck it into your pocket instead.

The sun slowly sinks, signaling the approach of evening. Hours have passed, but you're still lost in thought, pondering the group of Jedi you encountered—especially Sol’s story of the horrifying Jedi murder case. Though it has nothing to do with you directly, you can't shake the unease creeping into your mind. It's an inexplicable feeling of foreboding, devoid of any logical reason, as if instinct itself is whispering from deep within, warning you to be cautious. Yet you have no idea what or whom you should be wary of.

And then, there's another matter weighing heavily on your mind—the Jedi Knight named Yord.

His name has settled deep into your thoughts, etched onto your lips. A strange sense of familiarity fills your chest, as though you’ve known him before, despite seeing his face and hearing his name for the first time today.

How odd you think, fragments of a past you can barely recall flicker in your mind, disjointed and unclear. You want to focus your power on a vision, to delve deeper into the memory, but your body is too frail. It would only bring more pain. All you can do now is predict the hazy path of the future, as far as your bruised mind will allow.

You close your eyes, adjusting your breathing to a slow, steady rhythm. You let your mind sink into the stream of consciousness of possible futures.

There’s a ninety percent chance.

Certainty rises inside you—the answer you seek will come when you meet him again... soon.

The Bene Gesserit meditation gradually envelops your mind, nurturing it with such calm and a cold, almost numb detachment. Your fingers gently brush against the knife hidden in your cloak, recognizing that it may become necessary if things spiral out of control.

You step toward the front door of the shop, hand reaching for the handle, but a sudden hesitation grips you, freezing you in place.

A moment of silence surrounds you. You feel like a fish swimming towards a hook, drawn into a dangerous situation you shouldn't be involved with. The closer you get, the harder it becomes to turn back.

But in the end, you open the door anyway.

You stand there, waiting for something to happen. It doesn’t take long before someone grabs your arm, pulling you swiftly into the narrow alley beside the shop, hidden from the bustling street.

Your back hits the wooden wall of a nearby house—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to knock the wind out of you. You look up, meeting Yord's eyes with a calm expression, showing no sign of surprise. You know he is waiting for you, just as you are waiting for him.

“Be careful. You’re in a place you shouldn’t be,” he warns in a firm voice. “Get out while you still can.”

That’s all he says before releasing your shoulder and quickly walking back to the street, disappearing into the crowd while you stay still, watching his broad back in the yellow Jedi uniform fade from view.

In that moment, it's as if a veil of uncertainty is lifted, revealing a truth you had suspected before.

You are certain now. That Jedi can see the future—just like you.[1]

Footnotes:

[1] In Star Wars canon, some Jedi can see the future, but only a few—usually masters with strong Force abilities like Yoda (though as he got older, his visions became less reliable). You can see that Jedi powers and the Bene Gesserit abilities are somewhat similar (because Dune inspired Star Wars). However, in this fic, the author wanted to create a special distinction between the Reader (who is a Bene Gesserit) and the Jedi, so regular Jedi can’t have visions like the Reader. Yord’s case is unique and will have significant importance to the plot later on.

[sunflower-ozzy-online]

Fate at First Light

Chapter 1: Strangers at Dawn

Fandoms: DCU (Comics)

Relationship: Jason Todd/Reader

Characters: Jason Todd - Reader - Dick Grayson

Additional Tags: Reader-Insert - Omega Verse - Gender-Neutral Pronouns

After a long night in Blüdhaven, Jason Todd accidentally enters the wrong apartment, startling an unsuspecting Omega neighbor (reader) in the early hours of dawn. Though his identity as Red Hood remains a secret, a connection begins to form between them, fueled by chance encounters and shared curiosity. As they navigate their growing bond, both are drawn to the mystery of the other, unaware of the deeper truths that lie just beneath the surface.

They/ Them pronouns used. Reader is an Omega. Jason Todd is an Alpha

Could be read as a one-shot but I do plan on adding more chapters later. I will add tags as I go

It had been a pretty routine watch, Dick had needed an extra pair of eyes to look out for an escaped prisoner over in Bludhaven so Jason had spent his night on rooftops looking down on an unfamiliar city. Sunlight started to spill in between the buildings and through the alleyways alerting Jason that it was time to head back to Dick’s place for a little shuteye. Riding the winding streets on his bike he could feel the long hours wearing on his back, not looking forward to the small air mattress waiting for him at Dicks.

 He had planned to slip in through the window so as not to be caught on camera, possibly giving away Nightwings location. Only now he forgot which unit was his brothers. They all looked the same from the outside and he hadn’t been paying as much attention as he should have been. He chooses between two units on the tenth-floor south side.  He slowly opened the window to his choice, hoping that if it was the wrong choice, the occupant would be sound asleep. But that would be good luck, and he was very familiar with the deck of cards life had dealt him so there you were. Sitting on your bed scrolling on your phone at 5:30 in the morning. He was still wearing his helmet, which while good for him as it covered his face, sucked for you as fear shot down your spine as the Red Hood stood in your apartment. Your eyes went wide in shock and before you could reach for the bat by your bed, he was already exiting the same way he entered. He skittered across the wall and opened the window of the next unit. Breathing a sigh of relief when he saw the discarded Nightwing uniform on the ground he unlatched the hood and rested. Dick’s feet made a soft slapping sound on the floor as he approached Jason.

“All good Jay?”

“Yeah, I just met your neighbor” Jason replied, his eyes still closed.

Dick’s brow furrowed, “which one?”

“The new one, the one who isn't impressed by your lame jokes.” He responded, remembering their text conversation where Dick was upset that his new cute Omega neighbor had barely acknowledged him in the elevator especially after Dick had supposedly rolled out his best jokes to disarm the stranger.

“Dammit, I was this close to getting them to like me. Now they're gonna be afraid to even leave their apartment for the next month. I’m going to have to start all over.” He whined.

“Why do you even care if your neighbor likes you?”

“First off, it is important to have a good relationship with one's neighbor. Second, I need everyone to like me. It’s one of the few flaws I have.”

“Ah. Well, I think you're just gonna have to let this one go. Especially if they ever find out you’re partially responsible for their late-night vigilante visitor.”

“Hey, it is not my fault you entered the wrong window. You slipped up Jace, that’s on you.”

Jason grumbled, knowing he was right but refusing to let him have the satisfaction of hearing it from his lips.

“Wake me up for breakfast”, he walked over to the twin-sized air mattress set up just for him before collapsing and shutting his eyes.

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

Trying to continue on normally after your little vigilante break-in was not what you had planned. Moving to a new city was scary enough, and now you know that one of the more violent members of the bat family had business in your building. Super comforting. All you wanted to do was move forward in your life, succeed at your job, and make enough money to go on the occasional vacation. Those goals weren’t crazy, so why is the universe making them so hard.

You had scheduled exactly how much sleep and rest you needed before heading off to work. Now you’re a bag of nerves on the subway trying to pay attention to the music flowing through your headphones. Luckily you had applied your scent blocker patches before heading out, so you weren't worried about emitting noxious nervous pheromones in this cramped tube.  You tried forcing the image of the red hood out of your mind, but he kept standing there on the edges of your consciousness.

 It wasn’t helped by the fact that you ran into your talkative neighbor on the way out of the house. He always wanted to interact in the wee hours of the morning, and you tried your hardest to smile and nod but inside you wanted to disappear because how in the world can someone be that awake and vibrant that early in the morning? Today it had been different, he was accompanied by a very rugged presence who was avoiding your gaze. Though the figure did very little to draw attention to himself, possibly another normal non-morning person. Your neighbor, Dick, had told you about their plans for breakfast and a run. You had attempted to hide your judgmental look at this man's healthy morning plans, but the figure had given a small smirk in response to your side-eye. You noticed how full and pink his lips were, you wish you could have remembered more of his face. Despite being tall and stocky he hadn’t been threatening, he almost tried to shrink himself behind Dick.

As you pulled into your stop you quickly got off, wondering if you could find more information about Dick’s guest. You knew Dick was related to the Waynes somehow so surely he had an online presence and maybe his guest was in a post of his somewhere. You wouldn't be creepy about it, just some surface-level searching maybe, and you would never bring it up to Dick.

Approaching your place of work, you placed those thoughts on the back burner, to simmer for later.

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

Living with Dick was worse than he remembered, the continuous healthy choices mixed with the relentless social life he participated in to keep up appearances was a shock to Jason’s senses. Plus being there for their family to chauffeur their siblings and offer emotional suppoert when needed? He can see why the golden boy was put on a pedestal in their home. It was good for Jason though, he had missed his brother, plus seeing the cracks in the facade made him feel less crazy and insecure. It was on the third day of Jason living with him that Dick had announced his need for a small break. Laying in his bed for hours on end, claiming to need time alone. He was proud of his brother for paying attention to his mental health, but this left Jason with time on his hands that he needed to spend outside of the apartment.

Due to his history of isolation, Jason had almost mastered the art of entertaining himself. Listening to music, reading books, re-reading his favorites, target practice, working on a case, or cooking. Being at Dicks place had limited his ability to do some of these things but not to the point of dissatisfaction he was feeling now. With too much time on his hands and the constant reminder of your apartment just a door away, his thoughts had become centered around you. His mind replayed the scene of you comfy in your bed, eyes wide with fear. The memory sent shivers down his spine, he thought he should feel guilty for the small amount of pleasure it brought him, but he it knew wasn’t because you were afraid of him. It felt like it was something deeper. You had a hold on him that his pull to danger couldn't explain. It felt less shallow than that and more whole. Maybe it was your scent, from the faint whiff he had been able to catch through his mask when he was in your room. That plus the fact that you apparently hadn't called the cops on him had intrigued him past the point of reasonable interest. God, he needed to get out of the apartment before he got himself so worked up you could smell him through the walls.

He had packed up his phone, a portable charger, his most discrete gun and bulletproof vest combo, and his headphones before heading out the door. He headed down the stairs after deciding to walk to a nearby library and spend the day there. Jason shoved his hands into his pockets and made his way out of Dick's building, the idea of possibly running into you absolutely NOT on his mind.

Only slightly disappointed that he was not interrupted on his way out, Jason was greeted by the now familiar smell of Bludhaven air. The cool air helped clear his mind, and he focused on blending in with the crowd, something he'd become quite skilled at over the years. His music played lightly over his headphones, not so loud as to make him vulnerable to sneak attacks or pickpockets, as he slowly made his way to the closest library.

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

Work had been trying today, one of your coworkers seemed determined to be incompetent. Constantly asking you how to do simple tasks and even to take over some of their work. They had been there almost as long as you had, they had no excuse for not knowing how to do the basics of the job at this point. On top of their inability to do their work on their own, they dared to act like they were smarter than you. You had been trying to connect with them by telling them about one of your favorite shows over your shared lunch break. They responded with “Of course, you would be into something like that.” and continued on about how unsophisticated and uninspired it was. Obviously getting off on ridiculing something you liked not letting you get a word in to defend your comfort show. By the time they were done with their spiel, you only had three minutes left of your lunch break. Needless to say, you were looking forward to getting home.

You had texted your friends about your day to commiserate but it ended up making you feel even worse. You were new to Bludhaven and hadn't made any real friends there yet, feeling the absence of your pseudo-pack added to the isolation. You tried to remind yourself about how everyone has a hard time making new friends in a new city and it wasn’t that you were unlikable. Maybe you should try more actively to make friends, but it’s just so hard on top of being a safety concern. In this world, you never know who may be leading a second life as a villain.

 Though you wouldn't hate befriending Poison Ivy, she made some good points when she killed that polluting CEO last year live on his own platform. Maybe you should apply to be one of her goons? No, she didn't use goons, she didn't need to with her powers.  Is that why some people become goons? A sense of community? The money surely cannot be THAT good to put your life on the line for your boss. Maybe Penguin and his bird guys all have weekly dinners where they talk about their hopes and dreams. Well, no matter if they do or not the thought entertained you long enough to make it back home without spiraling into an abyss of loneliness.

As you took the elevator up to your floor, your neighbor's beefy guest suddenly came back on your mind. You hadn't been able to do any googling on him all day. Maybe that's what you’ll do tonight, snuggle into your blankets and try and find him on Dick’s Instagram. Maybe not, it may make conversations with Dick even more awkward. Lord knows you don’t need that in your life. You could admit that he was attractive, it was just so obvious that he knew it that it kind of affected his personality. You refused to let him think you were into him even a little bit, you wanted to take him down a peg just a tiny bit. Outside of his ego he actually was nice, he always tried to make you feel welcome smiling nonthreateningly. Maybe if you asked nicely, he would introduce you to his friend. The subtle scent you had picked up off of him in the elevator was nice, it was almost familiar, but you couldn't remember from were. You would have to get closer to him, without Dick’s light Beta scent mixing in.

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

By the time Jason found himself outside the apartment building again, he was annoyed with himself. The entire time he was in the library, pursuing their scant collection, he kept thinking about what you would think of the books he picked up. Did you like romance? Sci-fi? Maybe you were more into non-fiction. He wasn’t even able to enjoy the unfamiliar regency era novel he picked up wholly without picturing you as the main love interest. This wasn't like him. He wasn't some lovesick puppy trailing after someone who had caught his eye. He had seldom pictured himself as some Mr. Darcy type who would be all-consumed by his lover. He was Red Hood, crying out loud. But as much as he tried to convince himself to just head back up to Dick's apartment, his feet seemed to have a mind of their own.

Before he knew it, he was standing outside your door.

 He had a few minutes before Dick was expecting him back. Jason hesitated outside your door, unsure of how to proceed. He had no plan nor excuse for being there. His mind raced as he considered his options, but the more rational part of his brain was drowned out by the deep urge to see you again.  He had no intention of revealing his secret identity or letting you know that he was the one who had unintentionally broken into your apartment. But the need to make sure you were okay gnawed at him.  After all, he’d startled you, and he wasn’t the type to leave loose ends—especially when it involved someone he was inexplicably illogically drawn to. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on your door, telling himself he was just checking in—not to apologize for the accidental break-in or romance you. Perhaps to at least to gauge how much of a threat you might be if you recognized him.

When you heard the knock at your door, your heart skipped a beat. You weren't expecting anyone, and after what had happened the other night, your mind immediately went to the worst-case scenarios. Had someone been tracking the Red Hood? You had just gotten home from work, maybe an opposing player had followed you home to “question” you about your relationship with the Hood? Or maybe it was him, and he was here to eliminate a witness? Though knocking didn’t seem to be his style. Despite all of the possible threats and against all thoughts of logic and safety, you were pulled to the door. Cautiously looking through the peephole you saw Dick’s guest. Your cheeks flushed and your hand reached down to the handle. 

When you finally opened the door, just a crack, your eyes met his. There was a mix of wariness and curiosity there, and Jason could tell you were still on edge from the other night.

"Can I help you?" you asked, your voice cautious.

Jason cleared his throat, trying to figure out how to handle this without giving too much away. "Yeah, I just wanted to apologize for… well, if I came off a bit strange when we ran into each other earlier today. I’m staying with my brother, and sometimes I’m not the most social guy. Just wanted to make sure I didn’t freak you out or anything." He kept his tone casual, hoping you wouldn’t connect the dots or think he was some kind of pervert.

You blinked, the tension in your posture easing slightly as you processed his words. The pieces started to fall into place. You had suspected Dick’s guest might be a Wayne—maybe a cousin or a distant relative—but now you realized who he was. Jason Todd, the rumored ‘lost son’ of the Wayne family, the one with a strange and dark past. The realization made your stomach flutter with both fear and something else, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. As if he wasn’t already attractive, now he was also the heir of a billionaire with a dark mysterious past.

 "Oh… that’s okay. It’s just… you looked like you wanted to disappear earlier. I wasn’t sure if I had done something wrong or if I smelled bad or … something." you attempted to make a joke. Yeah, nothing funnier than some self-depreciation about your personal hygiene to make this Grecian god-like man like you.

Jason gave you a small, apologetic smile, the kind he rarely showed anyone. "Not at all. I’m just not great with new people. My brother’s the friendly one." an understatement.

You nodded, your curiosity deepening. There was something about him that didn’t quite add up, but he seemed genuine enough. "Well, it’s nice of you to check-in. I appreciate it." You nibbled at your lip. Not wanting him to leave but also not knowing what else to say.

He nodded, relieved that you weren’t pushing for more information. "Good to hear. I’ll get out of your way now."

But as he started to turn, you found yourself speaking up again. "Wait. Do you… want to come in? Just for a minute?"

He stopped, glancing back at you with a curious expression.

The offer surprised both of you. You weren’t sure why you’d said it, but something about him intrigued you, and you didn’t want to end the conversation just yet. Maybe it was the loneliness of being in a new city, or maybe it was the strange connection you felt with him. Your heart seemed to pound louder exponentially the longer he stood there not responding.

Jason paused, torn between his instincts to keep his distance and the undeniable pull he felt toward you. He glanced back at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. When he found none, he gave a slight nod. "Yeah, sure. Just for a minute."

You stepped aside to let him in, your heart racing as you closed the door behind him. As he entered your apartment, he took in his surroundings with a practiced ease, noting the small personal touches you had added to make the space your own. Trying to make sure it wasn’t obvious he had actually been here before. It was just as cozy as he had remembered, and oddly enough, it made him feel at ease.

“Would you like a glass of water? I also have some juice or soda…” you just let the words continue to flow begging yourself to be cool or chill for once “I don't have any coffee or tea ready but if you want some I could make it or” you thanked the gods when he interrupted your racing thoughts.

“Water would be nice, thank you.” He could tell you were a little nervous, it was probably the first time you had anyone over.

"So," you began, trying to make conversation, already going to the kitchen to get two glasses of water "you’re Dick’s brother?"

Jason nodded, taking a seat on the edge of your couch. "Yeah, we don’t see each other as often as we’d like, but I’m crashing at his place for a few days." This whole apartment already smelled like you.

You nodded. "I’ve heard him mention his brothers before, but I don’t think I’ve seen you around."

Jason shrugged. "I’m not in town much. Work keeps me busy." It wasn’t technically a lie

The vague answer made you even more curious, but you decided not to pry. Instead, you offered a small smile and the glass of water "Well, thanks for checking in. I appreciate it."

He returned your smile, a genuine one this time as he took the water "No problem. Just didn’t want to leave things on a weird note."

There was a brief silence, one that wasn’t uncomfortable but felt charged with unspoken thoughts. You both sipped on the filtered Bludhaven water, letting the room breathe. You could sense that there was more to him than he was letting on, but you also knew better than to push too hard.

"I should probably get going," Jason said after a moment, standing up and placing the half-empty glass on a coaster. "But if you ever need anything… well, I’m just a wall away.” hoping you may take him up on his offer, then remembering that in fact, he was NOT actually your neighbor he added, “And Dick too, or mainly, he loves helping people out.” This was an offer he secretly hoped you would take him up on. Although he knew realistically, he may never talk to you again he was still hopeful he wouldn't have to share you with Dick.

You nodded, feeling an odd sense of loss as he made his way to the door. "I’ll keep that in mind."

He paused at the door, glancing back at you one last time. "Take care, alright?"

"You too," you replied, watching as he stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him.

As you stood there in the quiet of your apartment, you couldn’t shake the hope that this encounter had been the start of something more. Something that, despite your better judgment, you were eager to explore further.

Masterlist

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: Pan Says... (8/?)

Summary: After waking up in a strange room with a naked stranger, Emma and Killian must endure the twisted game their kidnapper insists they play in order to gain provisions and avoid punishments.

A/N: Look at me getting another chapter up within a month of the previous update! I can't tell y'all how much your replies, reblogs, comments, likes, kudos have meant to me.

I have plotted out the remainder of this story and I believe we'll have 2-3 more chapters. It all depends on how wordy I get, lol. The muse has been very generous as of late, so fingers crossed that I can wrap this up before I need to work on my supernatural summer fic in earnest.

Lots of love to @ultraluckycatnd and @kmomof4 for their exceptional beta skills!

Rated E /Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!  

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six  / Part Seven

Chapter Prompts: I received a couple of prompts asking for the scenarios I've mentioned in this update. I have glanced over them a bit, though. I hope the prompters won't mind.

Warnings: Mentions of anal sex, edging, mutual masturbation, exhibitionism and voyeurism.

Part Eight

Killian collapsed back onto the bed, thoroughly spent and utterly exhausted. The mattress shook from the way Emma’s legs were quivering, her knees and upper body anchored to the bed with her ass in the air, still presented. The ass he’d just taken as a way of technically complying to Pan’s most recent command without actually doing the thing he knew Pan had meant for him to do.

Pan Says… come inside her this time.

The command had only been issued to Killian; a new twist to this particular round of the game. Instructions were given to only one of them at a time, usually when the other was in the lavatory or still asleep, and no longer delivered audibly. They were not permitted to share what the exact instruction was with each other, and had to therefore trust that their compliance to the other’s words was what Pan required.

The morning after their reunion was when it had all started. He’d come back from relieving himself to find Emma awake and looking slightly confused and distressed.

“Swan? What is it? What happened?”

“I… I can’t tell you,” she said. “He said I’m not supposed to tell you I just have to…”

Killian climbed back into bed and took her hand in his. “It’s alright, love,” he assured her. “Whatever it is he’s told you, you won’t have to go through it alone.”

Her eyes flicked up to his, swirling with contrition and a sense of determination. “I know,” she replied. Pushing against his chest, she forced him to lay back as she began to peel his pajama pants down his legs. “I need you to pay attention, because” she paused, swallowed hard, then wet her lips. “Swan says… everything I’m about to do to you, you will have to reciprocate in kind.”

Those next two days they had licked and kissed and sucked and branded and tongued every inch of each other. Exploring one another’s body with nothing more than their mouths.

The third day of Round Three had them experimenting with various toys and apparatus. He’d been told to edge her all day with the various wands and vibrators as she lay tied up from the four corners of the bed. It had been torture. Reducing her to a whimpering, begging, desperate collection of moans, tears, and sobs when all he wanted to do was alleviate the torment. But he’d dared not. Not after the last time they had disobeyed.

He was certain he would get his comeuppance on day four, especially when they woke to a basket of anal toys, in an assortment of styles and sizes. All Pan had required of them that day, however - delivered through a Swan Says… - was to shower and then fit each other with a plug, presumably to begin the process for more anal play later on.

Knowing they both had to be live wires of pent up sexual frustration by this point, day five had been mutual masturbation day.

“Your Captain says… touch yourself, love,” Killian instructed, stroking his cock as he watched Emma pleasure herself.

They had shared a total of eleven orgasms that day, and had become further acquainted with the various toys and butt plugs Pan insisted not go to waste.

Now, day six, Killian was allowed to penetrate his Swan with something other than his tongue or his fingers or a bit of vibrating silicone, but only under one condition… that he finish inside her.

Pan never said anything about it having to be in her cunt, so he’d taken advantage of the ambiguity by taking her ass instead, since they’d both been stretching and preparing themselves for anal play.

And fuck him if it hadn’t felt amazing - the defiance and the tight, forbidden depths in which he’d just spilled himself. Glancing over at Emma, her face shimmering from a sheen of sweat with an expression of sated and elated ecstasy, he knew she had enjoyed it too… but then of course, she did not know the full reason as to why he’d taken her ass and not her pussy.

She was no longer protected from the threat of an unwanted pregnancy.

“Wow,” Emma exhaled. “That was…”

“Don’t try and move too much,” he told her as he reached over and helped ease her into a more comfortable position. “Just rest. I’ll go get something to clean us up.”

“And some water,” she called out after him.

“Aye. And water,” he responded, as though he needed reminding.

He didn’t.

A week into Round Three and they had already settled into a routine. A week-long marathon of teasing, edging, training, and orgasms. A week of them taking orders from one another, of placing a new form of trust in the other’s hands. A week of them not talking about what had happened in the weeks before, or more to the point… the moments before this round had begun.

Swallowing thickly, he pulled back and softly whispered, “I love you, Emma.” Then captured her lips before she could reply.

“I think that’s enough sharing for one day,” Pan’s curt tone crackled over the speakers, forcing them apart. “In fact, Pan says no more talking until Round Three begins… which shall be first thing tomorrow morning. Sleep well.”

Killian’s jaw tightened as he watched Emma open and then close her mouth with longing and uncertainty swirling in her gaze. Squeezing his hand, she rolled off the bed and padded her way to the lav. Afterward, they both got dressed and curled up next to one another in bed, the silence between them deafening.

In the past week, she had not reciprocated those words and he had not uttered them again. Not because he hadn’t meant them, because he had. He did. He does. He regretted saying it, though. Regretted giving Pan more ammunition to use against them. Regretted having the memory of those words first said here, in this setting, under these circumstances. Regretted putting her on the spot when he knew, even if she felt the same, she couldn’t possibly be ready to say it back to him. And that was okay. He never wanted to push or pressure her, they had enough to contend with from the outside demands of their ‘host’. So, for now, all he wanted was to try and make things as easy for her as he could. To protect her and safeguard her to the best of his ability… even if that meant not talking about it and fucking her in the ass in order to keep her from getting pregnant.

“I have something special planned for you,” Pan said, startling him as they finished their aftercare routine. “But it requires a bit of a field trip.”

Confused, they both looked at one another then towards the door as it opened. Killian took her hand as they stood, placing himself in front of her as he always did when they were instructed to leave their cell.

“Pan says to follow the purple line until it ends, then wait for further instructions.”

The purple line? That was a new one. They’d never been instructed to follow that one before. He knew blue led to the showers, green to the rooftop terrace, and yellow to the room where he’d been injected with supposed poison after disobeying Pan’s rules. Emma had told him that she thought the Lost One had carried her along the red line when she’d been taken after their night of lovemaking, so Killian had deduced (and kept the knowledge to himself) that it had led to the medical procedure room.

Following the purple stripe to its unknown destination, Killian made a mental note of the route and cataloged it alongside the other colors. Of course, there was still an orange and black line. Their destination was also a mystery to him, which made making a mental map of the facility difficult, but he attempted to do so nonetheless.

The path ended in a narrow passageway in front of a pane of darkened glass. A hidden panel behind them slid closed, shutting them inside the dead end. Before either of them could question what was happening, the pane in front of them lit up. It wasn’t just glass. It was a window, looking out onto a circular room with tiers of seats that were shielded by thin, see-through screens, their occupants only noticeable in silhouette.

Emma reached out and banged on the window, trying to get someone’s attention, but her efforts were ignored. When someone did pass by - a woman donning an elaborate mask that hid her identity, but not her vanity - and paused to check her red hair, Killian realized…

“It’s a mirror,” he murmured. “A two-way mirror. They can’t see us.”

“Not yet, anyway.” Pan’s voice echoed through the small room. “Besides… their attention is focused elsewhere at the moment.”

Emma gasped, pulling Killian’s focus to where her wide eyes were trained. In the center, lowest level of the room was a rotating platform, and on that platform were two people engaging in various sex acts whilst the spectators behind the screens watched.

“What the fuck is this?”

“An intimate gathering I host one weekend of each month for like-minded friends. Three days of exhibitionist delights and debauched voyeuristic entertainment. This is the second night.”

He paused as dread rolled through Killian’s stomach. His next words made bile creep up his throat.

“You two will be night three’s entertainment.”

“Fuck that!”

“You can’t be bloody serious!”

“I am serious enough that I’m willing to offer you your reward before you meet the terms of my… request.”

Emma scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “There is nothing you could offer that would make either of us--”

“Not even a chance to reach out to your friends and family so you can inform them that you are not only alive, but also in need of their help?”

They both balked then stared at one another. He couldn’t be serious.

“Why would you let us do that?” Killian inquired.

“Because I require your full compliance so that my guests get the experience they’ve paid for. I am, therefore, prepared to compensate you accordingly.”

“In advance?” Emma clarified. “You’d risk us agreeing and notifying our loved ones of the truth only to back out later?”

Pan’s tone sent a chill up Killian’s spine and he knew Emma had been affected by the hushed warning as well.

“I would advise against such schemes. You do not wish to fathom how far I will go in punishing those who embarrass me in front of my guests.”

“What if we simply refuse all together?” Killian asked, knowing there had to be a penalty of equal weight to the reward being offered.

“Then your association with one another is of no further use to me, and I shall reassign you to partners with whom you might be a bit more agreeable to my requests.”

Emma pressed herself into Killian’s side as he protectively wrapped his arms around her waist. They clung to one another, each of them eyeing the door with the fear that it might open and Lost Ones would be waiting to pry them apart.

“The choice is yours,” Pan said. “I’ll give you some time to consider your options.” The panel slid open, revealing the corridor beyond. “Pan says to return to your room. Further information regarding tomorrow night’s entertainment will be waiting for you.”

~/~

Emma couldn’t stop the tremors coursing through her body. She wasn’t sure how she had made it back to their cell on such shaky legs, and the items awaiting them once they’d returned had done nothing to help alleviate her body’s physical response to the dread and anxiety overwhelming her.

In the center of the room was a table that held an old fashioned, corded phone. It had only three buttons on the dial panel; one labeled Nolan, one labeled Liam, and one labeled Decline. Next to the phone was a binder, and within it were the rules, expectations, and procedures for the night of entertainment she and Killian were meant to supply to Pan and his perverted guests.

A note also accompanied the binder. It read, Pan says to discuss the instructions in full before making your choice. Should you choose to comply, make your calls accordingly. Should you choose to decline, press the appropriate button and my Lost Ones will see to your reassignment.

“Say something,” Killian pleaded. Having read through the binder aloud, he’d tossed it over his shoulder then slumped forward with his head in his hands and his elbows braced against his knees.

“What is there to say?” she said, on the edge of panic. “We can’t refuse him. I can’t… I can’t lose you. I can’t let someone else… I can’t--”

“Hey. Hey, it’s alright,” he soothed, gathering her in his arms and cradling her against his chest. “I know.” His lips brushed the crown of her head and his chest rose and fell from a deep, fortifying breath. “But we have to discuss it. We have to talk it through. I won’t give him any reason to separate us. No loopholes.”

Emma nodded and pulled back so she could stare up into his face. “You’re right. We have to follow his instructions to the letter if we want to avoid penalty or punishment, and as much as I really don’t relish the idea of having to” -she gestured towards the binder- “do that. The idea of being forced apart makes me…”

“Aye. Me, too.” Reaching back he picked up the binder and opened it across his lap. “The good news is… none of the spectators are allowed to touch us or participate physically in any of the acts we perform on one another.”

“Yeah,” Emma groused. “They just get to dictate what acts we perform.”

Pan’s guests essentially got to be him for a night. Each of them would be able to make suggestions and vote on what sort of acts they wanted to see their entertainment perform on one another. Those requests would then be relayed to them through an ear bud or in some other manner.

Requests involving excessive violence or anything that might leave a permanent mark would not be permitted. She and Killian would have their identity obscured through the use of a domino mask and could opt to have an alias used in lieu of their actual names as well. Of course, they both had distinguishing features that could give away their identities, but what were the odds of them ever encountering these people again?

“Do you want to fill out the form first?” Killian asked, referring to the questionnaire Pan had provided, allowing them each to select up to ten items they absolutely would not consent to. “Or we could go over it together, if you’d prefer?”

If she’d prefer? Did it even matter anymore as to what she would prefer?

Emma’s chest tightened and her stomach dropped as the periphery of her vision darkened and blurred spots floated in her vision. A dull ringing began to develop in her ears, strengthening in its tone, pitch, and volume as the pressure in her lungs grew critical and she realized she’d been holding her breath. Rage bubbled up from her stomach and despair stung the corners of her eyes.

This was it, she realized. This was her breaking point. Emma had absolutely had enough.

Launching herself off the bed she stomped to the center of the room and rounded on Killian. “No! I don’t want to go over the questionnaire! I don’t want to discuss everything involved with tomorrow night’s entertainment! I don’t want to do any of this! I want to go home!”

Hysterics overtook her and she crumpled to the floor, but not before Killian wrapped her up in his arms to help break her fall. Clinging to him, she wept into his shoulder, her body practically convulsing from the release of pent up emotions and strain.

“I know, love,” Killian murmured, his voice tight and gravely from his own held back emotions. He continued to comfort her with soft words of nonsense as his hand caressed soothing circles over her back. After several long minutes, she could feel dampness against her hairline and when she pulled back to glance up, she found it was because Killian had started shedding tears of his own.

A few hiccups escaped her as she tried to calm herself. Killian’s hands cupped her face and he brushed away her tears with the pads of his thumbs before pressing his forehead to hers.

“Just you and me, love,” he whispered. “We will face this new degradation as we have all the others. Together.”

Pulling back, he brushed her hair away from her face, carding his fingers through the long strands and gently scratching her scalp in the way he knew she liked. “We will forget about Pan and those who have come to witness our debasement and focus only on one another. Aye?”

“Aye,” she replied in a sorry attempt to mimic his accent, which pulled a small smile from him. Flicking her gaze up to meet his, she said, “I’m sorry. I--”

“You never have to apologize to me, love,” he replied, wrapping her in his arms again and holding her tightly to his chest. “It’s a wonder we’ve both gone this long since our last breaking point.”

Emma laughed mirthlessly. He had a point. This certainly wasn’t the first time one of them had fallen to pieces and thrown a well deserved tantrum, allowing the homesickness, injustice, and despair to spill over from their boiling points. Allowing him to pick her up off the floor, she tried to bury the worry about whether or not it would be the last.

“What would you say,” Killian began, leading them back over to the bed and sitting them on the edge, “to us choosing our false names, our aliases as it were, and proceeding in those personas as a way of distancing ourselves from it?”

“You mean like… pretending this is all happening to someone else?”

“In a way.” Killian took her hand and threaded his fingers between hers. “It might allow us to… dissociate from having to fully experience it ourselves if we think about it happening to… The Captain and… whatever pseudonym you might select for yourself, instead.”

Emma rolled her bottom lips between her teeth and considered the suggestion. It would be like role play. The audience wouldn’t be seeing them, wouldn’t be controlling them, they’d be witnessing two characters crafted to play out a role that was separate from the actors themselves. The thought of that released a bit more of tension she was holding onto and an exhale passed over her lips, carrying her agreement.

“Yes. I like that idea.” Cocking her head to one side, she looked up at him with a teasing smirk and taunted, “The Captain?”

A blush bloomed across his cheeks and tinted the tips of his ears as he reached up to paw at the patch of skin behind his jawline. “Aye. Uh… I thought it might serve as a fitting moniker.”

“Hmmm,” Emma hummed with a coy glint in her eye. “I like it.” Wetting her lips, which almost always centered his focus on her mouth, Emma dipped her gaze then flicked it back up, peering at him from beneath her lashes as she sultrily inquired, “Would the Captain be agreeable to having a naughty Wench at his side for tomorrow’s night entertainment?”

A wicked smile stretched across his lips, and she could see the gleam of relief and pride flicker in his eyes before they turned dark and heated. “Oh, aye,” he replied in a deep timbre that damn near made her toes curl. “I think the Captain would enjoy a naughty Wench’s companionship very much indeed.” Plucking a paper from the binder, he held it out to her and with his Captain’s voice ordered, “Be a good little Wench and fill this out so your Captain knows all the deplorable things he’ll get to do to you.”

“Aye, aye… Captain.”

Part Nine

[multiversed-daydreamer]

Pet: Chapter 4 - The First Day

WC: ~4k

Summary: Joel and Tess finally clue you in on their plans and you three have a discussion about how this will all work. You disagree with most of it.

Tags: MDNI, Obsessive behavior, Possessive behavior, Hostage, Joel and Tess keep Reader against her will, Reader is disabled. This one is where it gets a little sketchy. Reader doesn't like being touched, Hints that reader has PTSD if you squint.

A/N: Thank you so much for those of you who have stuck with me from the beginning and welcome new readers to the ride! I hope you guys like it! Please let me know what you guys think and if I missed any warning tags, let me know so I can add them in! Check out my Masterlist for more!

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

When you wake, it’s slow and a little sluggish. Your head feels foggier than usual and you’re warm and cozy against a dark green couch. You frown, why are you on a couch? You look around and immediately regret it because your vision spins for a moment. Ugh, what the fuck? But you do remember where you are now. You’d stayed over at Tess’ because you’d been too busy doing shots instead of paying attention to curfew. Fucking idiot.

You debate on sneaking out before they wake up just to avoid the utter embarrassment of facing the scariest people in the goddamn QZ hungover. Fuck, Nick was right, Tess was not supposed to be someone you got close to. You should’ve said no, should’ve bailed again. 

A creak of the bed behind the wall alerts you to someone getting up, a moment later you hear the bathroom door close. You sit up with a quiet grunt. It’s not that bad, you’re not gonna puke or anything, just a little spinny. You slowly get your bearings, your shoes are under the coffee table, and your jacket is hanging on the back of the chair you’d sat at last night. You sigh, leaning down and snagging a shoe, pulling one on and then the other. There’s something a little too intimate about walking around Tess’ apartment in your socks. You stand as the toilet flushes as you cross the floor to put on your jacket. A sink turns on and as you zip up your jacket, it turns off, a few seconds later Tess emerges, flicking droplets of water off of her fingers. 

You give her a tight smile, nodding to her. She smirks a little at the sight of you already in your shoes and hoodie. “Planning on leaving early? Told you I’d walk you home.” 

You shrug. “I was planning on waiting for you. It would’ve been rude to just up and leave.” Tess eyes you for a moment. 

“Would you like some eggs first?” She asks tentatively. You frown, you don’t really want to stay much longer, and you don’t know what time it is. 

“What time is it? I’d like to be home around nine. Nine thirty by the latest.” You respond. 

“It was about seven when I got up. Let me get you some food, and maybe some water. How’s your head?” She smirks a little, likely knowing you had drank a little past your limit last night. You smile a little easier at her teasing. 

“A little slow… and a little spinny.” You admit. She chuckles quietly and moves further into the kitchen. 

“Water and some eggs will help settle you.” She points to the bathroom. “Go ahead and freshen up.”  You nod and mutter a soft thanks. You really had to pee. You slip into the bathroom, using the toilet, and flushing before washing your hands. You glance into the mirror and glare at how wild your hair is from sleep. You take out your ponytail and comb shaking hands through your hair. It’s not the best method, but it felt weird to dig around for Tess’ hairbrush. So you did your best to tame your hair with your fingers before putting it in a messy bun. You’ll fix it at home, it’s presentable for now. You sigh, bracing yourself for breakfast with Joel and Tess. 

You open the door and intentionally avoid the bed where Joel is still sleeping. You step over to the table, finding a glass of water waiting. Tess was at the stove with a spatula in hand, the smell of eggs and toast wafting over from her. It smells good. “Thank you for breakfast.” 

Tess smiles over at you. “Of course.” She dishes the food and butters some toast, before bringing the plate to the table. Right on cue, you hear a creak of the bed and a soft grunt as Joel gets to his feet and shuffles to the table, sitting down next to you.  Tess sets a plate in front of you and a plate in front of Joel before going back to the stove grabbing a plate for herself, and sitting on your other side, which surprises you. You had expected her to sit across from you to be next to Joel. 

You take a bite of toast and sip some water. You wonder where they found butter but you don’t ask. Joel’s presence unsettles you and you’re a little relieved that the meal passes in silence. The food helps your stomach and your head and you’re grateful . Joel finishes first, sitting back and eyeing your jacket. 

“Look at you. Already ready for the day.” Joel hums. 

You look down and shrug. “Yeah, I have a shift at eleven.” 

“What shift?” He asks, and again, his curiosity surprises you. 

“Sewer detail.” You grumble, not happy with it but it’s one of the best-paying jobs available. You finish your own breakfast and sit back. Your eyes flicker to Joel who grimaces in sympathy.

 “Oh, that’s rough.” 

You nod in agreement. “But the pay is great.” You point out. 

Tess is stabbing some egg onto her fork as she speaks up. “Is Nick joining you today?” The way she phrases it makes your hackles rise immediately. Did Joel tell her about the argument the two of you had a few days ago? 

He tenses at her question, eyeing Tess for a moment with a disapproving look before turning to you with a raised eyebrow. “Is he?” 

It’s only right now that you notice Joel has big brown eyes and full lips. He’s… handsome you realize kind of secondhandedly and you suddenly notice just how good-looking a couple Joel and Tess make together. You look down, a bit surprised by your thought process for a moment. “Uh… Yes, he’s meeting me there.” 

“Thought I told you to stay away from him.” His voice is low and level, and he’s watching you with an intensity that freaks you out.

You shrug, “I mean… we’re bound to overlap on shifts sometimes.”

Joel raises a pointed eyebrow at you. “And what about your days off?” 

Your jaw clenches. Motherfucker. Tess told him. You’re not surprised, and not even shocked. You tell Nick everything. Of course, Tess is gonna come home and bitch a little about how you bailed on her at the market and got high with a boy. But it’s not like you technically had plans with Tess that day. You two just end up walking together whenever you see each other. It’s never a planned meet-up. You shrug at him but don’t say anything. You stand instead. “I think it’s time I got home.” You scoot your chair in and turn to the front door. Tess and Joel don’t move from their spots and part of you is glad. You’re pretty sure if Tess insisted upon walking you home it would’ve ended in an argument. You’re not one for fights typically but everybody had their limit and you were at yours with their bullshit about Nick. You really need to apologize to him for not taking his worries as seriously as you should’ve. 

You make it to the door and unlock the deadbolt, twisting the handle to open it. It doesn’t budge though. You’re eyebrows furrow and you assess the door. The deadbolt is unlocked there’s not a little lock on the doorknob. When you look up you do realize that there's another lock about a foot above the other deadbolt. It looks like it belongs on the outside of the door, not the inside. It requires a key to unlock it and when you peek into the little crack between the door and the doorjamb you can see a second bolt glinting ever so slightly in the sun. You turn back to them. They’re just watching you silently, waiting for you to realize that you couldn’t leave without their help. You meet Tess’ eyes and raise an eyebrow in silent question. In response, she nods towards your chair. “Come sit for a minute.” 

Your jaw clenches and your stomach twists up in a knot. Something is wrong and fear slams into you as you realize you’re stuck here. “Why?” You stay by the front door, unwilling to move any closer to them. 

“Because she asked you too,” Joel said back, his voice a warning. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Nope… this is gonna end terribly. You walk over to the chair and grip the back of it with your hands, sitting feels far too vulnerable right now. 

“What?” You ask lowly, staring at the table, not meeting their eyes. 

~

Tess frowns at you. She’s not too pleased with your behavior, but you’re not outwardly defying them so that’s something. You’re starting to get scared, they could tell by how tense you are that you’re freaking out a little. “We want you to stay here for a while,” she says gently, preparing for the immediate backlash you might go for. 

Your brows furrow with confusion. “I have to get ready for work.” Next to Tess, Joel’s jaw clenched. 

“Don’t worry about work, we’ll get you excused so you’re not in trouble,” Joel assures. Not that FEDRA would ever get to you now, not that anybody would. 

“Why?” You ask again. Tess can tell you’re low on patience, you want to leave, and the thought pisses her off a little. 

“Because we want to keep you.” It probably wasn’t the best way to reveal you to your new life, but you’ve always seemed to enjoy Tess’ honesty.

~

Your eyes snap to hers, and you blink at her, completely speechless for a moment. “I’m sorry... You what?” You can’t believe the words that just came out of Tess’ mouth. ‘You can’t leave.’ you remind yourself. Finally, after months of looking for a red flag with Tess, she gives you one when you’re trapped in her fucking apartment. 

“You shouldn’t be working with your condition anyway. You’re gonna end up hurting yourself.”  Joel points out. Fury and embarrassment warp through you at his words. Condition? Just because you were disabled doesn’t mean you can’t work. You meet Joel's eyes with a fiery glare. 

“I am perfectly capable, thank you very much.” You snap at him. You expect him to respond in anger, instead, he smiles. 

“I know you’re capable, I’ve seen it. But they should minimize your hours at the very least. Burnout is still a thing, and you give off the impression that you’ll go until you literally can’t anymore.” Joel responds, once more giving you wide-eyed pointed look. “We’re trying to help.” 

“No offense, but that’s none of your business, Miller. I am an adult, I’ll figure it out for myself.” 

Joel sighs, shaking his head and standing up. You step back, making sure to stay well out of arms reach of him. Joel looks to you in surprise for a moment, pausing the same way Tess had last night, before turning and heading back towards his and Tess’ bedroom area. Your eyes flicked to Tess, who nodded toward the empty chair. “Please sit down.” 

You sigh and take a seat, pulling your chair back from the table to keep your distance from them. Joel rummaged around in his dresser for something. Tess leans her forearms on the table, bringing your attention back to her. “Joel saw you first when you first came to burning shift. Said he was surprised FEDRA would ever let you sign up for it.” Joel was now on his way back to the table, hiding whatever he got up to get behind his back so you couldn’t see it. He ends up sitting back down next to you. 

“Shouldn’t have been working in burning shift. Ever.” Joel pipes up. 

“It pays good! And it’s not like there’s a whole lot of options, I was just trying to grab what was available.” You defend. 

“I saw you a few weeks later at the market.” Tess continues as if you and Joel's continual argument about work didn’t exist. “Joel told me how you showed up on burning shift. I was surprised. After having a discussion we decided we wanted you.” You open your mouth to protest but Tess continues, “You won’t need to work anymore, you’ll be completely taken care of. You’ll stay here with us, for now, you will not leave this apartment and one of us will be here with you at all times. Once you get settled, we’ll start taking you back out again.”

You shake your head… what the actual fuck was she talking about? Her words make your panic flair. ‘You’ll’ not ‘you’d,’ they’ve made this decision without you’re input and you want to think you’re smart enough to change their minds about it. “No thank you.” That is all you can come up with. “I’d rather do the work myself and figure it out myself. I have no interest in relying on anybody.” 

~

Tess smirks at your words, ‘Well… aren’t you a prideful one.” She can’t help but taunt you just a little bit. You’re cute when you’re trying to figure out how to outsmart them. “Let me know when you successfully figure out how to leave.” She sits back in her chair, feeling more than a little smug. She gestures to Joel, who had grabbed the collar and a small padlock to put on it so you couldn’t take it off. 

Tess wiggles her fingers at you. “Give me your hands.” You sit back, eyes flicking between the two of them. Tess gestures again. “Come on now, it’ll just be for a moment.” She’s thanking you mentally for putting your hair up in the bathroom, it won’t be in the way when Joel gets the collar on. You shift but don’t move, already testing Tess’ patience. Joel stands and you startle a bit. Tess leans forward and grabs your hands gently, soothing you softly. “You’re safe here. We’re not gonna hurt you.”

~

You jerk against Tess, trying to pull out of her grip. Her fingers tighten around your hands and you try to stand up again, feeling Joel step up behind you. A large hand lands on your shoulder, keeping you in your chair. “Relax. Nothin’s gonna hurt, I promise.” Joel murmurs quietly.

“What are you doing?” You don’t even bother to hide your panic as you try to escape them. They’re too close, they’re touching you, and you want to scream. “Stop touching me.” 

Tess shushes you, shifting to kneel down in front of you, her hands moving up to grip your forearms. “You’re okay. We’ll let go in just a minute. Count to thirty for me.” Tess coaxes you gently into some deep breaths and into counting with her.

~

 Joel’s thumb rubs your shoulder gently, waiting until you are counting with Tess before moving his hand to wrap the collar around your neck. He’s as quick and gentle as he can be, looping the end of it through the buckle and tightening it to the correct size. 

~

As soon as you feel the leather tighten around your throat you yelp and move your hands upward to fight Joel. Fuck counting. Tess keeps your arms in place, she leans forward to put some weight onto your thighs, keeping you pinned in the chair as Joel quickly fastens the collar and hooks the tiny padlock into it, and snaps it shut. 

“Easy. Easy, I’m done.” Joel tugs lightly at the padlock and dips two fingers under the collar, making sure it isn’t too tight. Once satisfied with his work, Joel steps back. “I’m done. I’m done.” 

Tess squeezes your arms before pulling back with a soft smile. You immediately reach up to claw at the collar. “What the fuck.” 

“Easy,” Joel says again, taking his seat and gently prying your fingers from your throat. “It’s just a reminder. You’ll be fine with it on. You won’t even notice it after a few hours.”

You scoff, glaring at him. “Reminder? No. No, take it off.” You’re losing, you realize. They’re not listening to you. You swallow, focusing yourself on your goal. Escape. “I don’t want this. I want to go home now.” 

~

Tess has to admire your stubbornness and your focus on trying to talk them down from this. “You are home, pet.” She replies. Joel’s eyes darken at her words, and his hands twitch around yours. 

“Welcome home, pet. We’ve been preparing for you for months.” Joel squeezes your hands. 

~

You shake your head “I don’t want this. I don’t want to do this. I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in whatever this is.” You try to pull away from him but he keeps his grip, fingers strong around yours. 

“You’re not leaving. I think you’ve figured that out already. We already told you, we are keeping you. You’re not going to change our minds.” Joel’s voice cut through your head like a knife. You yank away from him, standing up and pacing to the living room and back again. 

~

Joel stands to intercept you but Tess stops him. “She can’t go anywhere. Give her a minute to process.” Joel looks back over to you, but your back is to him, you’re looking out the window. So he sits back down and looks at Tess who shrugs. 

~

You glare at the window. They’re by the wall of the QZ, which makes sense for smugglers you suppose. There are no people outside this close to the edge and their place is too high up to survive jumping. You frown. What the fuck were you gonna do? You turn back to them, you don’t go back to the table, but you do lean against the white shelf on the wall giving them your attention. 

“We have one basic rule for you right now.” Tess addresses you. “Just do as you’re told. That’s it.”

Joel glares at you. “Something you haven’t done yet.” 

You glare back. “I’m my own person, just because you’ve offered advice to me doesn’t mean I have to take it.” 

“It wasn’t advice, I told you to stay away from that kid and you didn’t listen.” Joel growls, clearly pissed you still hang out with Nick.

“Yes.” You nod, “Because why the fuck would I listen to you?” Knowing their plan now, at least now you understand why they hate Nick so much. Tess has been planning on taking you for months now, and yesterday you openly admitted you had a thing for Nick. No wonder she responded weirdly. 

“Because,” Tess cuts in smoothly, “you are not you’re own person. You are ours, and if you disobey us, we’ll punish you.” 

You pause at that threat, it stops you in your tracks. No. This isn’t a situation you were ever supposed to be in. The whole reason you pushed your group to go to a Quarantine Zone in the first place was to avoid raiders and slavers. You were supposed to be safe here from this exact situation. Fuck, you really owed Nick the nicest home-cooked meal you can make, and a huge ass apology. “What happened to ‘we’re not gonna hurt you?’”

Tess sits back and eyes you with a sharp look. “We have no interest in hurting you. But what is the first thing you start with when bringing home a new pet?” She asks you. 

You glare, jaw clenched so tight that in any other circumstance, you’d be worried you’d chip a tooth, but you’re too freaked out and angry and scared to care right now. 

“People train pets so they know how their owners want them to behave.” Joel interferes when you refuse to answer Tess. You stare at the ground, letting his words sink in. “We won’t hurt you, but we will discipline you so you learn what to do and what not to do. Just like any other pet.” You nod in acknowledgment and glare at the lock on the door that keeps you from your freedom. They have to go out at some point. It’s only a matter of time before you at least figure out where the key is… likely on one of them. 

You watch Joel stand up, he looks at you before once more heading back towards the bedroom area. He disappears behind the wall for a moment before coming back with a giant pink pet bed in his arms. He places it next to the shelf with the radio on it, right underneath a ring thats been drilled into the wall. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that they’ll probably leash you there at some point. It makes your body tense and you edge away from Joel. 

He turns and spots you backing away from him. He holds his hands up in surrender and steps away from the bed. “We found this for you. We figured you might like it.” 

You eye the bed and then Joel. “Are you expecting me to sleep there at night?” The bed seemed comfortable to sit on, like a beanbag chair, but you’d definitely fuck your back up if you had to sleep on it. 

Joel looks at you and shakes his head. “No. No. Probably wouldn't be too comfy for an entire night. It’s just a spot for you during the day.” He points to the bookshelf. “We got some books you can read, stuff like that. Just a little place that’s yours while we’re busy with stuff.”

You nod but don’t point out that you already have an entire apartment that’s yours that you can go to while they're busy with stuff. Instead, you eye the couch. That won’t be too comfortable in the long run either. 

“You’ll sleep in bed with us at night.” Tess pipes up from behind you. You whip around to look at her. 

“What?” Sleep in bed with them? Next to them? You can’t do that. 

Tess gets up from the table and walks over to you. You flatten yourself against the wall and she steps in just a hair too close, slowly reaching a hand up to brush her fingertips against your cheek. You pull back but she follows you, keeping the contact. You look towards the window again, and you’re glad she doesn’t force you to look at her. You’re pretty sure if you meet her eyes while she’s this close, you’ll burst into tears. 

Joel closes in as well, his hand reaching for the top of your head, gently massaging your scalp with his fingertip, much like one would pet a dog. You swallow against the rising emotions as they gently touch you. “With us,” Tess says, confirming what you’d already heard. “You’ll sleep with us, and we’ll keep you safe and warm.” 

You swallow again, blinking rapidly as tears well up in your eyes. There are so many emotions running through you right now and you don’t think you could name a single one. A tear slips free and slides down your cheek only for Tess to swipe it away. If you were so safe with them, why does your heart feel like it’s shattering into a million pieces?

They stay close, murmuring softly to you as you try to come to grips with this new reality. You won’t get out today, or likely the next few days. They’re on high alert and still trying to set some kind of routine. Your best shot is to play along until an opportunity arises. So you nod, accepting Tess’ words for now. 

You still don’t look at them but Tess leans forward to press a kiss to your temple and Joel presses his forehead against the hand he has on your head. “Welcome home, pet.” He whispers softly. Crowded between them against the wall, another tear falls.

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

Previous | Next

A\N: Thanks for reading, I hope you all enjoyed it! Let me know what you guys think!

[makoredeyes]

Keep it coming you say? 👀 I saw that tag! I'm ~quite~ bored, so here's a couple questions/whatever they're considered, lol.

Yes, flattery will get me very far here, indeed! To where? I do not know, but whatever, compliments! You deserve them. I'm rather sure my friends are tired of hearing me go on and on about destiny characters, ':)

How's your writing wip's going so far? I'm waiting very (im)patiently for any updates, I've totally not re-read everything forty-two times.. hope their all going well!

A little self indulgence here, but I like to think Andal Brask was the Hunter Vanguard when Osiris and Saint-14 were in, because.. come on, I'm rather sure the time frame adds up. I like to believe before, because their dynamic just seems really fun to me. Lots of great opportunities. (I partly blame that one fanart sylenth-l made of Andal and Osiris for this, it was really funny). What do you think their dynamic would be like?

What do you think it'd be like if the Iron Lords mysteriously came back alive? 👀 I'm talking, SIVA couldn't actually kill them because their ghosts hid in the light in their bodies, and SIVA only goes after non-organic materials right? Maybe it couldn't work it's way into the light, and as long as their ghost + light are intact, = alive. But *only* after the Warmind managed to get control over SIVA and free their physical bodies from harm? It's a thought I had, influenced by a few fics but I quite like the idea. Just imagine, a ghostless, lightless Osiris receiving word that maybe, they weren't as dead as he thought they were. Or Fel and Timur coming back only to realize what happened to Osiris?? Poor Sagira?? Learning lady Efrideet's alive? 👀 (Is that her name?)

Or perhaps, In this one fic, it's Timur and his special, take over your will little stunt he has, was keeping SIVA at bay, I think that's pretty neat too! So many possibilities! (If you were the one that wrote these, I hope you see this as a compliment cause I am not about to go dig through Ao3 to find them xD)

Either way, it'd be like a modern!au of the iron lords, for them at least, hah (I can just imagine Gheleon having a mental breakdown that their memorial involved fighting one another)

I can't really think of anything, but rest assured I will *probably* be back once I'm dome tormenting my poor boy Tevis

Ahaha yeesss YESSSS I feed me I'm such an attention whore lmao RIP XD. (fr tho bless you ;_; )

I am writing! There are longer gaps between posts rn because I have lots going on in my life, but also, because I am working on many fics at once. I counted the other day I have 26 WIPs but six I am actively working on in concert - three for Housefire that are all directly intermingled plot and timing-wise to the point where I'm not even entirely sure what order I'll be posting them in yet, another chapter for Things Found (I am trying to stay 2 chapters ahead with that to make sure I have a cohesive story for it), and two XXX stand-alone one-shots! I should fish out another teaser for everyone soon. I think it'll be one of the one-shots that makes it out next tbh they're the furthest along. But the naughty stuff is also the slowest to get written bc I yanno...can't write that stuff at work, etc. haha. But I've felt a new wind of motivation lately for writing and am picking away at these projects pretty regularly. <3

I'm going to admit I am not very well-read on the hunter squad in general, BUT iirc I believe Andal was Vanguard during the City Age. He was definitely around as I recall his presence in the comics. The problem with that time is that Osiris was largely absent. This was when the Cult of Osiris was gaining traction, and Osiris' obsession with the Darkness and the Vex was really heating up. He was neglecting his duties to the Vanguard (with Ikora often standing in as proxy for him) and he wasn't really paying attention to anyone else. Like. At all. There was a lot of unhappy tension even with Saint at that time. Andal, by all accounts, was a damn good fella though, and while I think just about everyone nettled Osiris, Andal also stuck up for him where he could. Even if Osiris couldn't appreciate that in the moment I'm sure he would come to later. I look at Osiris and see him as he is now, with some hard lessons learned and some hard losses under his belt, realizing a little too late some of the damn good souls he had in his court, Andal included. All of that said, 100% in a lighter, easier setting, a free-spirit like Andal (and/or Cayde...heaven forbid them both together!) would drive a stuffed shirt like Osiris up an absolute freaking wall with pure comical results, hands down.

(a side note, a brain storm, an insane thought that just poisoned my brain - a sweeter moment hidden from time: Andal's guitar and this gift of song Saint has hinted Osiris has....??????! I'm not melting it's just hot in here, right???)

As for Ironsbane and SIVA... I have INDEED put an awful lot of thought into this. Quite a lot. So much. I have my own ideas on ways to circumvent the disaster, O Reader Mine, but you're going to have to wait a while longer for me to write it. :3 (Housefire is, after all, ultimately, a fixit )

*but no SIVA attacks whatever it is programmed to, organic or not: and Rasputin set it on hundreds of Iron Lords and wiped them all out with the sole exception Efrideet and Saladin with the directives “REPLICATE, ELIMINATE, IMMUNIZE” it was not what SIVA was made to do but he deliberately repurposed it into a weapon. (I could go on for years about Rasputin and his darker epochs, but especially his misappropriation of SIVA lol)

** Your mention of Timur and his spooky skills DID remind me of another fic I need to get back to as well OTL TT_TT I still have requests I took in January I have yet to complete. At this rate it's going to take me all year to get them all done and by then I'll be taking more aahaha whuups.

[chicgeekgirl89]

Chapter 4 is up!

Tagging: @lemonlyman-dotcom and @kiwichaeng

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[6:22pm] Why do smoke detector batteries only die in the middle of the night?

T.K. is chowing down on some of Paul’s chili when his phone buzzes in his pocket. His dad is regaling the table with another of his New York exploits, this one about a rather scandalous call at a night club. T.K. had been off that night, but he’s heard the story so many times he could probably tell it word for word.

“An unbelievable amount of glitter,” his dad says as T.K. slips his phone out. As soon as he sees the text he smiles. 

T.K.

[6:23pm] Are you speaking from personal experience?

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[6:24pm] Yes. Two o’clock in the morning last night. Even though I change them every six months. Took me fifteen minutes to figure out which one. So tell me firefighter, why? 

T.K.

[6:25pm] Bad news. Smoke detectors are sons of bitches. They’re like Santa. They see you when you’re sleeping. They know when you’re awake. And they choose to use that information for evil.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[6:26pm] That seems like a major design flaw for a life saving device.

“Why are you smiling at your crotch?” Marjan asks from across the table.

T.K. slides his phone back into his pocket. “No reason.”

“Nobody smiles at their crotch for no reason,” Judd says, wiping at his mouth with a napkin. “You talking to a guy?”

“I wasn’t talking to anybody,” T.K. says, scooping up another spoonful of chili. It’s true. He was texting. Not talking. He’s a professional at telling the truth without actually telling it.

“I bet it’s that guy from the other night,” Paul says, a smirk on his face.

“Ooh, the hot guy with the six pack?” Mateo asks.

“Son, if you are engaged in sexting I’m going to ask you not to do it at the dinner table,” Owen says, clearly flirting with the line of dad mode and captain mode.

“I’m not sexting,” T.K. says with a roll of his eyes.

“But it is the guy from the other night?” Paul says. “Come on. You can tell us.”

“Is this what it’s like to have siblings?” T.K. asks. “Kind of glad you and Mom never got around to having more kids, Dad.”

“You’re welcome?” his dad says in a slightly bemused voice.

“Listen if you’re gonna text during dinner you’re gonna owe us some answers,” Judd says. “Least you can do for not paying attention.”

“Fine!” T.K. says. “Yes. It is the guy from the other night. His name is Carlos and he’s APD. Happy?”

“Carlos what?” Marjan asks.

T.K. stares at her. “What do you mean Carlos what?”

“What’s his last name?” she says. When he doesn’t answer she sets down her spoon. “You do know his last name, right?”

“I—“ 

“Are you sure he’s real?” Mateo asks, adding more cheese to his chili. “Could be a catfish situation.”

“Catfish?” Owen asks, looking confused. “You think T.K. is talking to a fish that lives in muddy water?”

Judd shakes his head. “I’ll explain it later Cap.”

“I am not being catfished,” T.K. says. “He’s a real guy. A nice guy,” he adds.

“Ooooh you’re smitten,” Paul says with a grin.

“I am not smitten!” T.K. cries.

He does not share the part where he poured his heart out the other night through texts to Carlos. Apparently his New York sob story needed to be released and a somewhat faceless, hot ass phone man seemed like an appropriate person to do it with. He’s not sure if his therapist will be thrilled or horrified.

“Just be careful what you send him,” Marjan cautions. “The internet is forever.”

“Thanks Mom,” he shoots back.

“Marjan is right,” his dad says. “I am all for you sowing your oats or Netflix and chilling or whatever you kids are calling it these days. But you should be careful.”

“One time,” Mateo says around a mouthful, “my cousin thought he was going to some girl’s place, but when he got there, it was actually a dude named Knife. He stole my cousin’s wallet and his cell phone.”

“You know sometimes I really worry about you probie,” Paul says, eyes full of genuine concern.

Mateo’s story takes the heat off of T.K. and the team spends the rest of dinner ragging on him instead. 

But T.K. is still thinking about Marjan’s words hours later when he’s laying in his bunk staring at the ceiling. Everyone else is asleep; he can hear Judd’s chainsaw snores, Mateo’s sleep mumbles, and Paul’s deep breathing. Crazy how quickly those sounds have become familiar to him.

He rolls over and grabs his phone off the nightstand, turning down the brightness so it doesn’t wake anyone else up. He gnaws at his lip for a second before sending another text off to Carlos.

T.K.

[10:41pm] You’re real, right?

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[10:43pm] As opposed to…?

T.K.

[10:44pm] This isn’t a Catfish situation? You’re not really a woman living in Boise who’s going to steal my credit card information?

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[10:45pm] You got me. You’re my third mark this year. What gave it away?

T.K. snorts then looks around quickly to make sure he hasn’t woken anyone up. His fingers fly as he types back.

T.K.

[10:46pm] Prove it.

Office Hottie- Carlos

[10:47pm] Prove what? That I’m real? How?

T.K.

[10:47pm] Idk. Send a picture of you holding a fork.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[10:47pm] …a fork?

T.K.

[10:48pm] Four tines? Used for food? Popular with mermaids?

There’s no response and T.K. sets the phone down on his chest. He’s stupid. This is stupid. What kind of stupid person asks someone who’s basically a stranger to send a picture of themselves with a fork at this time of night? 

T.K. winces. Weirdest booty call ever. 

His phone vibrates and when he lifts it up he has to clap a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

Carlos has sent a selfie of him holding a fork. His eyes are squinty, like he’s barely awake, and there’s a hint of scruff on his face. His hair is all mussed and he looks so adorable that T.K. feels a very strong urge to kiss him.

He’s also shirtless. Which makes T.K. feel a very strong urge to put his mouth other places.

T.K.

[10:55pm] Do you ever wear a shirt?

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[10:55pm] I was in bed. This is how I sleep. And you’re welcome that I got up to prove my legitimacy to you.

T.K.

[10:55pm] Thanks. Do you want me to prove mine?

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[10:56pm] No need.

T.K.

[10:57pm] No need? What does that mean?

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[10:57pm] I know you’re real.

T.K. thinks for a minute and then his mouth falls open.

T.K.

[10:58pm] Did you background check me officer?!

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[10:58pm] …I plead the fifth….

T.K.

[10:59pm] You did!

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[11:00pm] Okay fine, I did. I wanted to know more about you.

Warmth blooms in his chest, but then is immediately doused like a bucket of cold water has been thrown on it. If Carlos ran a background check…

T.K.

[11:01pm] So…you know about the shooting then? 

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[11:01pm] Yeah. And the incident at the bar.

Shit. He’d really rather Carlos not know about the bar. He wishes nobody knew about the bar. Having his dad pick him up from jail had been a low point in their first few months in Austin. It had taken weeks for his split lip to heal. At least he hadn’t been charged. He hadn’t realized there was still a record of some kind though.

T.K. 

[11:02pm] Great. So you’ve seen the highlight reel of all my finest Austin moments.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[11:02pm] I actually already knew about the shooting. It was kind of big news. I just didn’t realize it was you.

T.K.

[11:03pm] Yep. That’s me. Remembered for my near death experience and getting my ass kicked.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[11:03pm] I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have looked. 

T.K.

[11:03pm] It’s okay. Like you said, you already knew about the shooting. And it’s my fault the bar thing is on record anyway. It was really stupid.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[11:03pm] Everybody makes mistakes T.K.

T.K.

[11:04pm] Well I already spilled my guts to you about New York. So you know I’ve made more than a few.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[11:04pm] So have I. You just don’t know them yet.

Why does that small bit of empathetic understanding make his heart ache? His therapist would probably say something about how he always feels like he’s too much for people to handle and Carlos choosing kindness instead of running away at the first signs of T.K.’s baggage.

T.K.

[11:05pm] Do you think it’s weird that we never met before the other day? Since we’re both first responders?

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[11:05pm] Not really. Austin’s a big city. 

T.K. rotates his phone in his hand a few times, getting his nerve up. 

T.K.

[11:06pm] Would you want to hang out? Sometime?

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[11:09pm] Like a date?

The alarm blares and T.K. immediately shoots upward, pulling on his boots and turnout pants as everyone else does the same. The fire is a big one and they don’t get back to the station until four am. By then it’s way too late to text Carlos back and honestly, he’s too exhausted to even form words. He drops into his bunk and falls immediately asleep.

[sarcasmandships]

his! do you have any peterick fic recommendations? i've already read all your works on ao3 and i'm waiting desperately for updates so until then i need something to read because i feel like i've already read soooo many fics and i'm running out of material plz help :)

hiiii, im glad you like my fics and I'm sorry im terrible at updating i used to be so consistent but uni is just killing me with assignments rn! but i promise the restaurant au will get an update soon and im planning to edit death by a thousand cuts before i add to it again cos im just not really happy with the quality of it, but that will also be coming soon i promise!

anyways onto what you're really asking about; recommendations. im not sure if you're looking for smut or stories with plot so here's just a mix of things i've really liked ( i suck at bookmarking things so I've just searched through my history and there's deffos stuff i've missed im sorry)

Literally just read kick me in the face & ask me how my head feels by fkingdeathwish today - devoured this in a few hours and this fic made me like stories in first person. its so good and also has the best andy/joe/pete friendship dynamics i was smiling the whole time. but also features a lot of petekey tho which might not be ur thing

(smut) going down, down by @pyrchance - i read this the other day and its 10/10

Anything by snitchesandtalkers but some of my favourites are i've been checking my list, crooked love, making out inside crashed cars (smut), silver screen dream, the antidote to everything (except for me), we're friends when you're on your knees (not finished but still so so worth reading), amateur pornographers (smut obvs), a little less 16 candles (a little more bite me)

brutal love by @notastumph- this one is so good but like i also had to take a 5 min break between chapters cos the angst and heartbreak was getting to me so much (in the best way)

and i'll burn by jiksa - just read the tags first

the house on rosewood lane by scarredsodeep - this one is so fucking good, i don't even like horror and i was obsessed with this and couldn't stop reading

hey doctor, i'm certifiable by derridoid (smut) - so good and the ending made me laugh sm

husband on the payroll by das_verlorence-kind - what can i say, i love the fake relationship trope

also ive changed my plea to guilty by das_verlorence_kind - again just check the tags incase it’s not ur thing

accidents will happen by rusty76

again pretty much everything by @annoyingpetekey but some favourites are (i just wanna) get some, so pretty (when you're on your knees), and come on (and fuck me like you doubt me) - all smut

That Schrodinger guy made some really good points, you know? by @earlgreytea68

but i'm reflecting light by looks_a_scream - this one is deffos a favourite

the purgatory of my hips by auralcosm

edgar allan potato by emeralcitydowntowngirl - another absolute favourite, i have such a soft spot for soulmate AUs but I've never read one as good as this, again features a lot of petekey but it is all in the past

to take what i'm given with grace by likeasugarcube - their whole 'marriage of convience' series is amazing but this is the main fic and it is sooo good

anything by littlesnowpea but favourites include love in the middle of a firefight, but there's no preparing for this, and nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy (pls read tags first tho)

december is for cynics by looks_a_scream - another favourite

secrets i don’t want to keep by perceived_nobility (although i think they’ve changed their name to invisible_man now) anyways this one is only accessible if you have an ao3 account but it is so so good an hurts in all the best ways, would advise paying attention to some of the tags tho

Also pretty much anything written by appleremix or vampyerika

Ok so I have like another 30+ pages in my history but this is already so long, so i hope you enjoy some of these assuming you haven't read them already!

[writeraven]

FFXIVWRITE 2024 — 09: LEND AN EAR.

“If it was anyone else he’d be pissed if they were still here, but not you.” — Sarah Clay, Never Enough

TAGS: [ isorawrites. » FFXIVwrite » 2024 ]

FANDOM: Final Fantasy XIV.

VERSE: AU » Modern Day.

STATUS: Submitted; 1 chapter (3 parts).

GENRES: Draft, Short Story.

SHIPS: Shenanigans.

MUSES: Yiuno Reine (Yiune Rei).

NPC: Emmanellain de Fortemps.

lend an ear phrase of lend listen sympathetically or attentively.

WARNING — mild alcohol abuse.

Emmanellain loved his job very much. He enjoyed working in the sales department: there were plenty of challenges awaiting him each day. Whether it was about handling fussy regulars or seeking out new customers to add to his repertoire, he was content with the busy schedule that gave him a sense of fulfillment.

However, his colleagues had other ideas—they exploited his easygoing personality by often dumping their tasks onto him, causing him to stay in the office beyond working hours. By the time he managed to complete everything for the day, it was already half past eleven. Then, he had to catch the last train home; he barely had any time for himself, and simply crashed for the night. Worse, he had to return to the workplace on weekends in a feeble attempt to catch up, draining him further.

One day, his manager, Yiuno, called him to his room for a talk. While Emmanellain greatly respected Yiuno, for the latter was the youngest in the department but also the most capable, he found it difficult to approach his stony-faced superior. He heard rumors from his colleagues about Yiuno being an extremely strict person, and he’d fire anyone who didn’t meet his high expectations.

Throughout the whole meeting, Emmanellain merely kept his eyes on the carpeted floor. He didn’t pay much attention to what Yiuno was saying to him; his mind was running various simulations about the mountain of tasks that he still needed to do.

He only jolted out of his own thoughts when he felt a sudden pat on his shoulder. “There’s a client I want you to meet tonight,” Yiuno said. “Meet me at the parking lot at seven. I’ll drive.”

“Ah! But—”

“I will drive,” Yiuno cut him off in a flat tone. “You should take a good look at yourself in the mirror. Have you actually slept at all?”

An hour had passed since Emmanellain arrived at the posh restaurant with Yiuno—they were already done with the main course and now onto the desserts, but the client they were supposed to meet was nowhere in sight. He glanced at his Viera boss, who was digging into his chocolate soufflé with a blank expression.

He kept wiping his sweaty hands on his pants. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate together with anyone in the company; this was his first time hanging out with his superior. As the tense atmosphere began to crush him, he hurriedly picked up his glass and downed all its content. He coughed as the dryness of red wine burned his throat.

He looked up to see Yiuno standing next to him with a glass of water. “Take it easy,” he said. “I think our clients got lost somewhere, so I’m going down to fetch them. It’s my treat tonight—feel free to order anything you like in the meantime.”

Emmanellain nodded as he watched Yiuno leave with a paper bag. He suddenly felt a little light-headed—maybe he was too nervous. He never had issues with alcohol, and he used to be quite the drinker when he just turned twenty. He ordered more wine for himself, becoming more intoxicated by the time he finished the third bottle.

Through his half-opened eyelids, he saw a figure approaching: at first, he thought his manager had returned because of the familiar leporine ears, then he sat upright when he realized the person was female. Emmanellain traced the lady’s curvy figure with his eyes, then he mumbled a quick apology when he noticed the latter pulling down her mini skirt shyly. Work had kept him busy for years with no room to socialize, let alone date anyone.

“D-Do you mind… if I sit here?”

The lady’s mature voice surprised Emmanellain; he relaxed when she covered her mouth and coughed softly. “No, no… Not at all,” he replied, still gaping at the Viera woman. Half of her face was covered by the long fringe of her silver bobcut, with only one eye and her dark-red lips visible. She was clad in full-black: long-sleeved turtleneck, opaque pantyhose, and ankle-strapped heels.

Chuckling nervously, she averted her gaze from Emmanellain’s intense stare. “…Is there something on me that bothers you?”

“No… no.” Emmanellain shook his head. “My apologies. I’m awed by your beauty.”

She laughed again. Then she looked Emmanellain. “But there is something that has been bothering you.”

He froze. This lady was a stranger, yet he felt a tinge of familiarity from her. Waving his hand at a passing waiter for more wine, Emmanellain could no longer stop the words tumbling out of his mouth, and the tears flowing down his cheeks for the rest of the night.

The next day, Emmanellain woke up with a splitting headache. That cleared after he sat up for a while, and he began to study his environment.

He was in a hotel room, fully illuminated by the sunlight pouring through the bay windows. The bed was queen-sized, big enough to fit two fully-grown adults. He heard the sound of running water coming from the bathroom; he then noticed some clothes left on the backrest of an armchair, just a few steps away.

He felt his head throbbing again when he tried to recall what had happened last night. He kept talking to the Viera woman, who simply listened in silence, occasionally helping to fill his glass with more wine. He clutched his head when he remembered leaning against the surprised lady and cried on her shoulder. He recognized the clothes belonging to the female stranger. A sudden realization dawned upon him, and he began searching the room frantically.

He couldn’t recall anything else after he cried himself to sleep. Nothing could possibly happen between them… right?

He accidentally knocked over the lady’s pile of clothes, where it fell onto the ground in a scattered mess. As he picked them up, he noticed something queer among the sea of black. Something he’d never imagine anyone would have, under normal circumstances.

He looked up when he heard a click, and the bathroom door opened to reveal the last person he’d expect to meet.

“Oh, you’re finally awake,” Yiuno greeted him with his usual nonchalance. “Feeling better now?”

Emmanellain could only gape at his topless superior, his other hand still holding the silicone breastplate he’d just picked off the floor.

Yiuno merely replied with a wry smile. “This is the only way I could make you talk to me.”

Support me on Ko-fi — https://ko-fi.com/whyraven. Thank you very much for your continuous support☕

[nanaminokanojo]

THAWING ICE QUEEN (part 52)

–one night of fooling around with the annoying campus king gojo satoru (he thinks so), turns into...well, something else more long term

CHARACTERS: gojo satoru x you | geto suguru | jjk characters

GENRE: college au | eventual smut | smau | smau + prose | everything in between | ons | fubus to lovers | aged-up characters | idk where this is going

⚠️ TW/CW: strong/mature language | 🔞 | mentions of alcohol, smoking, etc. | this will most likely have narrations | god-awful pet names | will add more if something arises

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<prev part 52 next>>

A/N: Contains prose.

-

"Hot ride you got there."

Satoru looked up from his phone, looking at you over the top rims of his aviators. He pushed himself away from where he was leaning on the car – a different one from what he usually uses: top down, perfect for your short road trip to your home. He grinned, happy that you found it to your liking, but he couldn't pay much attention to that as you strutted towards him. With your luggage in tow and a backpack slung on your left shoulder, you basked in the morning sun, wearing white shorts and a graphic muscle tee with armholes extending just above your waist. It gave him a peek of your black sports bra underneath.

"Good morning, indeed!" he greeted you, taking your things and tossing them on the backseat as if they weighed nothing. He then faced you, slipping a hand through one of your armholes so that he was holding onto the small of your back as he pulled you flush against him, startling you.

"You're being unfair right now. How do you expect me to keep my hands to myself while I drive?" he whined close to your ear.

A smirk drew itself across your mouth as you plucked his sunglasses from the tip of his nose and propped it over his head instead, meeting his cerulean eyes without any obstruction. "You're going to have your hands busy. No way around it."

He clucked his tongue. "That sucks, but at least I can have my morning kiss."

Your eyes widened when both his hands moved lower, cupping your ass and sliding his palms down the back of your thighs before lifting you easily so that your legs were wrapped around his waist. You braced yourself on his shoulders, and he took your preoccupation to claim your lips with his, the kiss so heated that you felt the intense degree of want emanating from him.

You pulled away with a snicker. "Put me down, Satoru."

"Shame."

As you wished, he set you on your feet, but before you could regain your balance, he placed a hand behind your neck, locking you in place with his mouth against yours for the second time. He exhaled harshly through his nose, moaning shamelessly against your mouth and sneakily inserting a hand between you two to touch one of your breasts, giving it a light squeeze.

"Satoru!"

He kissed you on the cheek before backing away with his hands up in mock surrender. He then opened the door to the passenger side, gesturing for you to board the car.

You shrugged, passing by him with an annoyed look, but that was just to conceal how flustered you were at his boldness. He then closed the door, but in the next second, he bent down and stole another kiss, this time landing on your left cheek.

"Hey –"

"That should be enough for the next two hours." He rounded the car, shaking his head. "Or not."

He hopped into the car, putting his aviators back on before looking at you with a grin as he started the car. "Ready?"

You couldn't help but join in his conviviality and just chuckled. "Ready as I'm gonna be."

-

~*~

TAGS LIST: @arxliana @neeneee @charlie-xo @aelynaneedsalottathing @arizzu @cloudxp @justpuddinglol @mikkies @nyfwyeonjun @whats-humanity-lol

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20230829]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[matan4il]

One thing I have been ever grateful for is we didn't see boyfriend Buck for Ally or Taylor like he was for Abby. Like I may have had a huge disdain for how Abby treated him, but I loved him in that mode. I can't wait to see him just charm and overwhelm Eddie who so deserves to be daily swooned. Like I want Chim getting annoyed because Maddie is like "why don't you write love notes in my lunch".

Anyways so married gifts... In my head I feel like Buck is the husband that buys the cute stuff you don't need. Like every Sunday he buys Eddie flowers. Eddie of course rolls his eyes and complains flowers just die Buck. But he waters it every mid-week to keep them alive and his morning coffee with them every day to stare at them fondly. And Eddie is true practical husband. Like when he hops in the jeep he always fills up the gas tank for Buck, or if he noticed he needed gardening gloves suddenly they are just there with no fan fare.

What's your opinion on their husbandly love languages?

Nonnie, I could not agree with you more! It was lovely to see Buck so invested in a relationship, even though Abby's treatment of him made it (especially in re-watches) quite heartbreaking. I'm glad we never had to see him doing the same for women who were clearly always going to be a fleeting chapter in his life, as significant as learning from these relationships is for Buck.

And I'm with you, I can't wait to see that side of him once again when he's with Eddie! I agree with you. Buck is the guy who smiles softly to himself when he sees a way to spoil Eddie and make his life more pleasant even when, especially when, it's not needed from a practical POV. Those nice things are the ones that Eddie has been denying himself for years, and Buck making these gestures would add so much needed softness to his life, and would mean so much more because it's such a statement of love. Meanwhile, Eddie would be the one whose love is expressed through paying attention to what Buck needs and isn't always good at getting for himself. In fact, I'm so convinced of this, I even wrote a small drabble about this once, Forever Hold Your Peace.

Thank you so much for sharing these insights and headcanons with us, lovely! I hope you have a great day. As always, my ask tag. xoxox