#but to whomever who does. i will give a nice long kiss on the mouth | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shorkbrian · 4 years

Note

💖💘my heart’s dizzy and I my dose of serotonin whenever I read your prose🤟🏽😩 was wondering if you could do reader with an erratic future-vision!quirk so when they first meet yandere!Hawks they’re suddenly plagued by erotic, sensual, 365days-level of disturbing visions of them, so reader actively avoids them (it’s like those Tik Tok future-seeing videos playing to “Play Date”)

Prelude - Hawks isn’t a famous pro-hero in this, but he still has his quirk. It’s not really mentioned a bunch tho lol. This is rlly long, but I decided not to put it into two parts because the smut is so slight lol. Hope this meets your expectations anon, thank you for reading!

Pairing - Keigo Takami X Reader

Warnings - NSFW mentions, dubcon, noncon. No out-and-out explicit smut, just a really long story. Hawks is manipulative and gets what he wants

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/5ukAQcKEIJuzIbP55xp07x?si=iz6I-RoDSdCNYhT2Du8etg

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He was a friend of a friend, someone you had only met once or twice.

Your friend kept bringing him to hangouts, he kept showing up on her instagram feed, getting mentioned in her twitterbio, and eventually it came out that they had started dating. It didn’t catch anyone by surprise.

What did catch you by surprise, was how infatuated with him your friend was.

“He’s just sooooo hot, isn’t he?” She squealed, shoving her phone in your face to show off a shirtless pic he had just sent her.

You nodded in agreement, quickly appraising the pic before turning your head. Yeah, her boyfriend was attractive, but you weren’t one to ruin relationships. Plus, you and Keigo had never really talked past the brief “Hey” and “Wassup?” said in greeting when introduced the first time.

“Can he come to the mall with us on Friday? I promise there will be no third wheeling.” Your friend begged, clasping her hands together. You thought about it for a second - this had been a fun shopping trip the two of you had planned a few weeks ago, meant as a girls date on a day the mall wouldn’t be crowded. But would it really hurt anything if her boyfriend came along? Probably not.

“Yeah, I don’t mind.” You shrugged, watching your friends face erupt into a wide grin. “But don’t ditch me to go makeout in a bathroom or something, got it?”

“Sir yes sir!” Your friend faux saluted, before patting you on the shoulder. “Thanks girlie!”

You jerked back, head suddenly swarming with visions, your quirk activating. Your quirk was helpful in some ways, but you mainly tried not to use it - headaches resulted, and you hated getting glimpses of the future. Sometimes they’d be good, but they were often bad - you had gotten a screenshot glimpse of your brothers death, his face marred and bleeding out onto the pavement.

It still made you sick to think about it.

Touch wasn’t something you could always avoid, but you tried, seeing as how it activated your quirk, giving you visions of your future with whomever you touched, or whoever touched you.

You saw your friends face, eyes puffy with tears, shouting something. Then another scene flashed, your friend on TV, talking to a reporter.

Thankfully, the visions ended, this episode relatively quick due to how short of a time she touched you.

“Oh shit, I forgot, I’m so sorry.” She rushed to apologize, holding her hands up and backing away from you.

“It’s-it’s fine.” You wheezed, waving your hand in the air to signal that it wasn’t a big deal. The vision just probably meant the two of you would get into a fight soon, which wasn’t uncommon. It was fine, you were fine.

——

The mall wasn’t too crowded, which made the day pleasant. Your friend was talking to her boyfriend, hand tangled with his as the three of you walked in.

“So (Y/N), what do you think about that new Victoria’s Secret launch?” Your friend bumped you with her hip, drawing your attention as she pulled you into the conversation between her and her boyfriend.

“Oh, um… what?” To be fair, you had zoned out when the couple started being gross and mushy, which was like, the second your friend met Keigo at the door.

The blonde man laughed. “Victoria’s Secret just launched a new line of lingerie, have any thoughts about it?”

Turning red, you smiled sheepishly. “Ah, well…. From what I’ve seen of their stuff it’s… nice? So I’m sure it’s good.”

Your friend mock-gasped, almost slapping you on the arm before quickly remembering your quirk, drawing her hand back. You gave a quick nod of thanks.

“(Y/N)! Don’t tell me you didn’t even know about it?! I practically live, eat, and sleep Victoria’s Secret, it’s impossible to miss their product drops when you’re one of my friends.”

Unsure how to respond, you floundered, opening and closing your mouth like a lost fish.

“Babe, leave her be, she’s probably just shy.” Keigo stepped in, giving his girlfriend a chuckle as he steered you both towards a shop.

“Fineeee.” Your friend whined, turning to focus on the task ahead. “They have a VS shop here though, you’re not getting out of here without going in with me!”

----

The VS store was huge, smelling sweetly of flowers, bright colors assaulting your vision, soft pop music filling your ears.

It was hard not to cringe at all the fancy lingerie, you were honestly a bit embarrassed to be strolling through the store with your friend, let alone her boyfriend by her side.

“Does-does Keigo mind?” You quietly asked your friend, out of earshot of her boyfriend, who was looking at perfumes, last time you checked.

“Not at all birdie, I’m used to clothes, any form, any shape.”

You whirled around, squeaking in surprise at Keigo, who had apparently finished with browsing the perfume. He was flashing you a 1000 watt grin, continuing with what he was saying. “I’m a model, practically every girl I’ve ever met I’ve seen in less than full underwear, it’s no big deal.”

“Oh…. Cool.” You offered, cheeks turning red again. You felt like such a blushing schoolgirl, turning red when faced with looking at bras and panties, flushing when a man got too close.

It was the nature of the store, you told yourself, that was making you so embarrassed.

“Oo! What do you think of this one?” Your friend was holding up a babydoll, pink, with light fabric and zero coverage.

Keigo wolf whistled. “Man, that’d be a good look for you. Lets buy it.” The couple moved on, pointing at different clothes, your friend occasionally picking one from the rack to hold up against her body, looking for Keigo’s opinion.

They were cute together, laughing over the cheesy names on the tags of the lingerie, holding hands as the browsed, your friend occasionally stopping to plant a kiss on her boyfriend’s cheek.

“I think that’s everything that I like…. (Y/N), your turn!” Pulled out of your casual observance, you back pedaled. “Me? No, I’m not really the type to wear this kind of stuff - I don’t even think most of it would fit, I have weird proportions.“

“Nonsense!” Keigo looked around for a moment, going to the nearest rack to quickly sift through bras, before pulling one out. “This one would make all the boys drool over you honey.”

He held it out towards you, shaking it slightly when you hesitated to take it. Was your friend okay with him talking to you like that, pushing underwear at you to buy? A quick glance sideways showed she was more than okay with it, clasping her hands excitedly as she watched you.

The bra was sheer, soft lavender fabric forming the cups, an intricate embroidered detail of flowers dotted haphazardly over the bra. It was pretty, but you weren’t exactly partial to it. When would you wear it? Who would you wear it for? You weren’t sure it was your style. Plus, it probably wasn’t even your size.

“My arm’s gettin’ real tired.” Keigo joked, before you finally took the garment from him. Checking the size, you paused for a second, blinking towards the man.

“How did you-?”

“You spend enough time in the fashion industry, you learn to tell a girl’s size just by looking at her.” He seemed to puff up, as if he was proud of his bra-sizing skills.

“Let me help her pick out some things too!” Your friend cried, rushing past you to head over to the next rack, ushering you to follow with a wave of her hand.

You ended up with an armful of lingerie - bras, panties, an odd bustier or two, and some other flowy items, like a sheer robe and a lacy chemise. The choices weren’t exactly made by you, more so made by a combination of your friend and Keigo together. They had alternated holding up items towards your body, comparing color and garment cuts, lost in their own mushy-gushy world, and it was almost like you didn’t exist for a few moments, nothing more than a barbie doll to dress up.

But now the three of you stood in line to checkout, and you felt included again, your friend cracking jokes that were making you snort, Keigo watching the two of you interact.

Until your friend accidentally brushed against your arm as she shifted forward in line.

Again, you saw her tearful face, heard her sobbing, before the other scene flashed, of her on TV, talking to the reporter. She still looked upset, eyes rimmed red, nose running, hair a mess.

With a gasp, your vision returned to the present, and you were wobbling on your feet, almost falling.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry (Y/N), I’m so so sorry. Here, let me take that, go sit down by the entrance.” She fussed over you, face concerned as she carefully took the stack of clothes from your arms, making sure to not make contact.

“Oh fuck, is she alright?” You heard Keigo ask, your friend stepping in front of you as he moved forward to check on you.

“Yeah, she’s just feeling a little dizzy. Can you make sure she doesn’t fall and crack her head open? Just wait by the entrance please.”

“Okay. Oh, here-“ You were a bit dazed, but you saw Keigo fish his wallet out of his pocket, thrusting the entire thing into his girlfriends hands before patting her on the shoulder “Whichever card is fine.”

And then you were stumbling towards the entrance, towards the bench right outside.

You hated seeing the future. Why was your friend crying? What had happened to elicit such a reaction? The unknowns killed you, kept you up at night as you tried to puzzle out the events that could lead up to the scenes from your visions.

Not looking where you were going, you tripped on air, unable to catch yourself as you plummeted towards the ground.

But then you were seeing Keigo.

He was above you, face flushed and sweaty, hair tousled, his chest bare. The room was dark, barely lit, and he was so close. The man leaned down to kiss you, then the scene changed.

You were bent over a table, only able to see the solid wood your face was smushed against. There was a heat in your belly, a tingling between your thighs, and pressure. Someone was talking - Keigo, muttering behind you angrily. You head was pulled up, a hand fisted in your hair, and then one of your knees was pushed up onto the table, and the pressure inside exploded into pure pleasure.

You felt yourself screaming, bucking your hips as you suffered through whatever the feeling was.

The scene changed again.

Hands tied above your head, you were pressed against a wall, sitting on some kind of…. Saddle? Your legs couldn’t touch the ground, and you squirmed, before gasping loudly.

There was a nub in the seat, ribbed and textured, slick with some kind of liquid… From you? Then you saw Keigo, standing in front of you, smirking at you with hardened eyes.

He had something in his hand, arms crossed over his chest while he fiddled with the object, muscles flexing. He was shirtless again, and-and his cock was hanging out of his sweatpants, pressed against his belly, smearing precum over his skin.

You tried to say something, anything - the visions never lasted this long, it was too intense, there was so much sensation. But your mouth wouldn’t move, choked up.

Keigo’s hand was on his length, rubbing slowly, saying something that didn’t reach your ears.

The scene changed.

Something was shoved down your throat, warm and twitching. You were sobbing, choking, clawing at whatever was in front of you. A dark laugh filled your ears, and you opened your eyes, met with the clenching abs of a strong stomach.

Keigo was brushing your tears, no, smudging them over your face. Were you wearing makeup? His cock was sitting in your throat, his hips moving in tiny jerks, stabbing your esophagus, making you gag.

Then you were back in the present.

A hand was holding your arm, keeping you from falling and making contact with the hard floor.

“-N)? (Y/N)? Are you okay? Talk to me birdie”

You made a panicked noise, pulling yourself out of Keigo’s grip so fast that you fell flat on the floor, scrambling backwards away from the man.

He almost looked scared, confused as he followed after you, holding out his hands. “(Y/N), you gotta calm down, you’re gonna make yourself sick.”

The man reached for your arm again and you pressed yourself against the floor, screeching out a loud “No!!” before he could touch you. Keigo paused, looking at his hand, then at you. “Hey, hey, I’m not gonna touch you. It’s okay little birdie, you’re alright.” He cooed, sinking to his knees in front of you.

You were hyperventilating, wide eyes trained on Keigo. Your thoughts were swirling in your head, you couldn’t focus, the sensations of the future still echoing through your body.

Keigo crouched there while you steadied your breathing, talking to you the entire time, trying to help you relax and calm down. You weren’t sure what he was saying, something about the weather? Or a dog? But you could feel your breathing evening out, head clearing.

“Hey, she fall?” You friend was carrying two bags, crouching down beside Keigo, cocking her head at you.

Her boyfriend nodded, turning to her and taking one of the bags. “I caught her, but then she freaked out and fell for real.”

Your friend nodded. “I should’ve told you earlier, she has a touch-based quirk. Every time someone touches her, she sees snippets of her future with that person.”

Keigo cocked his own head, gazing at you curiously. “I guess her future with me isn’t too positive then?”

Your friend shrugged. “Eh, she just hates seeing parts of the future. She doesn’t want to know what’s going to happen, makes her worry or something like that. Don’t take it too personally, she’s like that with everyone.”

“It-it-“ you rasped out, causing both sets of eyes to swivel towards you. “-I hate it... because-‘cause I can’t ever cha-change it.” You shivered.

Keigo nodded in understanding, before rising to his feet. “Think you can walk to my car? I’ll drive you two home, I think you’d benefit from some rest.”

He dropped you off at your apartment, and you wearily waved at the couple as they drove off, before heading inside.

----

A week passed, then two.

The visions you had concerning Keigo were plaguing your mind, filling your body with anxiety. There had been a distinctive feel of fear during each one, and despite all the other various sensations felt, the most overwhelming had been distress.

Whatever was going to happen, you weren’t going to like it.

You were holing up in your apartment, ignoring your roommates when they knocked on your door, only leaving your room to eat or grab water. You couldn’t sleep, too scared you’d have dreams, or more accurately, nightmares of what you had seen.

Curse your quirk.

Trying to pass time, desperate to keep your mind off of the future, you threw yourself into any activity you could find.

First you tried coloring - it was supposed to be relaxing, but it gave you too much time to think.

Then you tried gaming, spending hours in front of your computer mashing the keys. That worked for a bit, but your eyes and head soon protested.

You listened to music at full volume, tried several workout videos, even resorted to cleaning your space with fervent energy.

None of it took your mind off the inevitable.

“(Y/N), someone’s at the door asking for you.” You jerked awake, slumped over uncomfortably on the floor, the half finished card tower in front of you promptly knocked over at your erratic movements.

“(Y/N)?” Your roommate called again.

“Yeah! Coming, sorry.” You mumbled, scrubbing sleep from your eyes. You guess your body would give out sometime and force you to fall asleep, but as you moved to stand, you sorely wished your body had chosen a more comfortable place to pass out.

Opening the front door, you immediately took a cautious step back, sleepy demeanor vanishing.

Keigo smiled at you, one hand in the pocket of his jeans, the other holding a bouquet of flowers.

Flowers?

“Hey birdie, mind if I come in?”

You stared at him for a second, immediately on guard. Why did he have flowers? Why did he want to come in? Wasn’t he dating your friend? She didn’t live here, what was he doing here?

The man cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow at you. You moved to the side, holding open the door for Keigo to come inside.

Your roommates were home. If anything happened, they would be within earshot.

Keigo shot you a smile and a thanks, before immediately moving into the small living room, taking a seat on the couch. When he saw you still hovering by the open door, he patted the cushion beside him.

“Come sit, I promise I don’t bite.” He thought for a moment, before grinning. “Well, not unless you want me to.”

Hesitantly, you shut the front door, going to sit in a ratty armchair further away from the winged man. If this bothered him, the man didn’t let it show other than a short pause before he spoke.

“So, I know it probably seems like, super weird for me to show up at your apartment, but hear me out.”

Flowers were shoved in your lap, Keigo taking great care to avoid touching you. “I felt bad about the other day, and my girl and I decided that we should get you some flowers. She picked ‘em out, it even says so on the note.” The man laughed, running a hand through his hair.

“She’s so uptight about this kinda stuff. Anyways, just wanted to say that I’m sorry for grabbing you like that. If I had known, I would’ve let you fall flat on your ass. But I know now, so I’ll be better, cool with you?”

Finishing his little speech, Keigo held out his hands, wings stretching behind him to mimic the gesture.

Looking at the flowers in your lap, you felt your hands shaking. Picking up the little note attached to the bouquet, you found that your friend had indeed picked out the flowers, which made sense. They were your favorites, and in a nice color too. Keigo had left a messy, scrawled “Sorry!” in one corner, before signing by his girlfriends name.

“Um, thank you Keigo, you didn’t have to apologize.” You murmured, rubbing one of the flower petals between your fingers. You were so glad your quirk extended solely to humans - if you were shown glimpses of the future of everything you touched, you would most likely go mad.

“Nah, I wanted to. Also wanted to swing by, check how you’re doing. You been taking care of yourself?” He relaxed on the couch, legs spread, arms resting behind his head. This wasn’t his home, yet you totally could believe that it was by the ease with which he owned the space with his presence.

“Oh, well… I’m still here, so…” You shrugged.

Keigo frowned. “That’s not a fun answer. How much sleep you been gettin’ each night? Eight hours?”

You shook your head, huffing out a breath in place of a laugh.

Keigo clicked his tongue. “No sleep? That’s bad for you y’know. Have you at least been drinking water? Eatin’?”

You nodded quickly, looking up to meet the man’s gaze. “I’m not a kid. I appreciate your concern, but it’s not necessary.”

At this point, you think the best thing for your health would be for the man to leave.

The blonde man stared at you for a moment, before sighing. “Alright, I get it. But I don’t want to hear that you’ve passed out or something, got it? Your friend would kill me.”

He rose to his feet, and so did you, walking him to the door. “Thanks Keigo, and thank you again for the flowers. That was very sweet of you both.”

Keigo beamed, giving a two fingered salute. “You deserve it birdie. Well, have a good rest of your day, yeah? Eat something.”

You smiled, at Keigo as he turned away, beginning to whistle as he strolled down the hall.

Once the door was shut, you found a vase for the flowers, filling it with water and setting it on the table. Your roommates would think it was pretty, and it was, a nice little centerpiece.

That really was nice of your friend and Keigo to offer you flowers.

——

“Welcome to Gold Nile Jewelers, how can I-“ You blinked at the man entering the shop. “-Keigo.”

“Birdie? You work here?” He looked just as confused as you felt, cocking his head to the side as he approached the counter.

You looked around the small display room, nodding your head. “Yep… You looking for anything specific today?”

“Ah, right!” He clasped his hands together, bending over to lean on the display counter as he looked up at you. “So professional (Y/N), it’s just me.” The man chuckled.

“Actually, I thought I’d get my girl a cute little bracelet or something like that, you think she’d like that?”

Knowing your friend, she’d be ecstactic. “Oh, absolutely. Any particular occasion, or just an “I love you gift”?” You asked, already running through the list of bracelets in stock.

“It’s our two month anniversary in another week, thought I’d get her a little sumn’ sumn’, y’know?”

Gold Nile Jewelers was an expensive store. You patted yourself on the back for not dropping your jaw when he said “two month anniversary”. People came here for wedding rings and special occasion jewelry, not monthly anniversaries like some high schoolers.

Well, unless they were rich.

You showed Keigo the selection of bracelets currently available, the man listening quietly to your product descriptions and recommendations, asking questions about the fit and feel, and if you think your friend would like a particular one.

“Honestly Keigo, I could choose one I think she’d like, but it’d be more special if you chose for her.” You finally told him. He wasn’t annoying you, but you felt frustrated with his apparent lack of knowledge about his girlfriend. How did he not know what her favorite color was? “I’d suggest coming back in a few days. Go home, see what kind of jewelry she wears, pay attention to the colors she gravitates towards, if she’s allergic to any metals.”

Keigo tapped his chin. “Hmm, you have a good point. I guess I should pay more attention to those kinds of things.”

You nodded as you began to pack the expensive bracelets back into their display cases. “Gifts for a significant other can be hard. Honestly, it means a lot if they pick it out themselves and surprise you with it. Makes it special.”

“Oh, you have a partner?” Keigo asked, bright eyes watching your hands work.

A frown almost crossed your features, but you stopped it before it could show. “Ah, sorry, that’s not really a work-appropriate question.”

“Awh, c’mon! It’s just me, we’re friends, can’t you tell me?” Keigo pouted, batting his eyelashes at you in an exaggerated, dramatic fashion. The display made you laugh, so you indulged him. After all, he was a friend. No harm in telling him something he was bond to know sooner or later.

“I’m actually single right now. But as a jeweler sale associate, I know how much it means to a person when their partner picks out a gift for them, especially if it’s a surprise.”

Keigo nodded his head solemnly. “That makes sense. I better follow your advice then eh? Find out what she likes-“ he mused “-I can do that.”

“Good luck Keigo!” You called after him as he strolled through the door, waving when he smiled at you, giving that same, goofy two fingered salute that he always did when saying goodbye.

The man unnerved you, the visions you had experienced concerning him making you worry. But as long as he was dating your friend, you felt that you’d be fine.

-----

Keigo showed up again two days later.

“Back so soon?”

“You know me-“ He shook out his umbrella, placing it in the drip-bin by the door, wiping his shoes on the mat. “I always try to be speedy with my work.”

It was grey outside, drizzling slightly. You loved these kinds of days, where you could sit near a window and watch it rain while sipping tea. It was so peaceful and calm, and always soothed your stress.

“Find out anything useful?” Whatever he could tell you would make it easier to refine the jewelry selection for his particular needs.

“So, she doesn’t have any bracelets, and I asked her about why and she said they annoy her. She likes necklaces.” He clarified,. You could tell by the way he puffed up that he felt proud of his detective skills. “I even made a note of the lengths - she likes ones that dip low, which-“ He wolf whistled, and your stomach turned. But it was fine, just awkward.

“Alright, I think we have quite a few like that. Let me collect them for you and lay them out.”

Keigo strolled around the display room while you bustled about, looking in each case at the shiny metals and stones

You laid out the necklaces, calling Keigo over. The man smiled brightly at you as you showed him the selection, noticing he was gravitating towards the more simply, elegant choices.

“I’m sure she would be thrilled with any of these.” You offered, Keigo silent as he tried to decide between two necklaces.

Still, the man shook his head, quirking his lips. “I just…. I need to see them on, y’know?” Then he brightened, as if he had just thought of something. “Hey, can you try them on? Model one for me? Just to see what it’d look like.”

You laughed nervously. “Sorry Keigo, but I’m not allowed to do that, it’s against company policy. Only customers get to try on the jewelry, and that’s if they’re supervised.”

“Awh, c’mon! No one else is here, and I won’t tell.” The man leaned forward, shooting you a quick wink before he snatched up one of the necklaces, holding it out towards you. “Please? I just need to see it. I promise I’ll buy it.”

He was so insistent, and no matter how loud the alarm bells were wringing in your head, you felt cowed by his confidence.

“Um, still… I don’t think it’s allowed-“

“Fuck what’s allowed-“ He cut you off, snorting. “-I want to see what it looks like. It’s just me (Y/N), I’m not gonna snitch.”

A heavy sigh, and you finally agreed, taking the necklace from his nimble fingers. You slung it around your neck, not fastening the back as you held it in place. Hopefully that would be enough to sate Keigo’s curiosity.

His eyes immediately followed the curve of the necklace, how it dipped low towards your cleavage (curse you for wearing a lower-cut shirt today). You tried to ignore the leering.

“Here, let me help you fasten it, doesn’t look right otherwise.”

Before you could protest, he was sliding behind you, deft hands reaching for the necklace your had in your grasp.

“Keigo no-!”

But it was too late.

You were pressed up against a wall, face-first, your hands gathered into the small of your back and held there with a vice-like grip. There was pressure between your legs, something hammering into you, in and out, in and out, in and out.

Keigo was talking to you, you could tell it was the man by his voice. What was he saying? You were too overwhelmed with the sensation between your legs to focus on the words falling from his lips.

Sweat dripped from your temples, Keigo’s chest pressed up against your back was slick with perspiration, his nipples hard and pressing into your skin. It was an uncomfortable situation-

And then it changed.

You were tied up now, tight enough that you couldn’t move no matter how you thrashed. Knees bound in such a way so your ass was up in the air, arms stretched out in front of you, anchored to the headboard of the bed.

Keigo was behind you again - nothing to indicate that the tongue running through your core was his, but somehow, you knew.

You were begging and pleading, withing in your restraints against his tongue, but he wouldn’t let up, he wouldn’t let you crest the mountain that had built up inside. He kept chuckling, the vibrations running through you and making you buck your hips. You felt disgusting.

Then the bed was gone, and Keigo was in front of you. He was sitting in an office chair, your legs straddling his lap. Hands on your hips were dragging you back and forth, grinding you on the hard member protruding from Keigo’s lap. He was flushed, letting out little moans as he kept eye contact with you, smiling and praising you.

Then you were back.

Gasping, you shot away from Keigo, the expensive necklace clattering to the ground as it fell from your hands.

The man froze, confusion etched across his features as he watched you bend over, trying to catch your breath, to calm down, to ignore the lingering sensations from the futuristic visions.

“(Y/N)…”

“I think-I think you should leave.” You heaved, tears building. That had been awful, everything had felt good but you hadn’t. You felt uncomfortable and disrespected and stupid. That couldn’t be your future with Keigo, you wouldn’t be able to handle that. He was your friend’s boyfriend, for goodness sake!

Keigo opened his mouth to say something, but you snapped at him “Leave.”, making the man click his jaw shut.

He walked out the door, shooting you concerned glances the entire way.

You felt better as soon as he was gone, the door clicking shut after him. Thankfully, you were the only employee out front at the moment, and no other customers were present, so no one but you and Keigo had experienced your outburst.

Bending down to pick up the necklace, you inspected it carefully, horrified that you had dropped such an expensive item. It was alright though, so you brought it back to the others, shakily beginning to gather them up to put away.

You didn’t want to see Keigo again.

——-

“I just don’t understand!”

Your friend sobbed, surrounded by tissues on your bed, eyes red and blotchy. You wished you could rub her back, our give her a hug, but you knew what would happen. So you stayed on the floor, passing up tissues and offering wordless sympathy.

“Why would he break up with me? Why?”

You shrugged, looking for words. “I don’t know… I’m sorry that this happened, but if he can’t see how awesome you are, then he’s an idiot.”

She sniffed, blowing her nose. You could tell she wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t say anything further, instead choosing to wipe her eyes.

She had called an hour or so ago, tearful, asking if she could come over. Refused to tell you what was wrong, but the second you let her in, she had burst into tears, explaining everything.

Keigo had broken up with her via text, that asshole.

“I just…. I thought we were good. Did I do something wrong? I just don’t get it.”

“Neither do I. You said he just texted you out of the blue?”

She nodded her head, going to blow her nose again. “We were supposed to go out for dinner tomorrow, it’s our two month anniversary.”

You cringed. Did your encounter with Keigo in the jewelry store have something to do with this? Had you driven your friend’s boyfriend away? Had you weirded him out? Oh god, what if this was all your fault?

Your friend broke down into a sob again, slumping onto your bed. You passed her another tissue. “It’ll be okay. I think he’s a stupid fucker that just wanted to play with your heart. He isn’t worth shit. You deserve so much better than him.”

She nodded, blotchy eyes seeking out your own. In the back of your mind, you cringed, seeing the exact same scene from your vision. Well, at least the two of you hadn’t gotten in a fight.

——-

A few weeks later, Keigo was at your door.

“You need to leave. Now.”

“Aw, c’mon (Y/N), at least hear me out?”

You huffed, crossing your arms. Maybe he had a dumb explanation for why he had dumped your friend. You were wary of him accidentally touching you again though. “Fine, but make it quick.”

“No promises.” He grinned, breezing past you and into your apartment. He beelined for the chair you had sat in last time he was here, leaving you to take a seat on the couch.

“Alright-“ He settled in, fixing you with a gleeful eye. “How do you feel about your quirk?”

Caught off guard, you blinked. Wasn’t he going to explain why he had broken your friend’s heart? “Um, what?”

“Your quirk, y’know, the one that makes you see the future?” He leaned forward, rubbing his hands together with a smile. He seemed far too pleased, and it made you nervous.

“I hate it. If I could get rid of it, I would.” You stated, ready to move onto a different topic. But just as you were about to ask him about your friend, he rose to his feet, fishing in his pockets.

He drew out a bracelet, black and red, thin. “Well then, lookie what I have.” The man walked over, sitting down quickly on the couch next to you, causing you to immediately scoot to the end. You didn’t want him touching you.

“Oh, sorry.” He apologized upon noticing your unease. Instead of scooting closer, he simply tossed the bracelet onto your lap, leaning back as he watched you look at it curiously. “Put it on, see how it fits.”

“I don’t need jewelry Keigo, and I think we should be spending our time discussing why you bro-“

“Just put it on (Y/N), please? I promise you won’t regret it.”

Huffing, you did as he asked, clasping the bracelet around your wrist. It fit snug, almost too tight, but it hugged your wrist comfortingly. It was pretty, but you didn’t see what this had to do with your quirk, or with your friend, or anything that held any relevancy.

Bracelet now on, you fixed Keigo with a blank stare. “Happy?”

“I don’t know.” Keigo grinned. “Are you?” And then he was hugging you, arms wrapped around your shoulders, face buried in your neck.

You shrieked, already panicking as you tried to ready yourself for the onslaught of visions that accompanied physical touch.

They never came.

Choking back a surprised gasp, you drew back from his hug to find Keigo’s eyes, the man smiling down at you as he watched your reaction.

“Kei-Keigo…” You stuttered, shocked, surprised, euphoric, confused - so many emotions, all at once. You couldn’t even think to brush off the hands still around your shoulders, thumbs brushing at the tops of your exposed collarbones by the neck of your shirt.

You weren’t able to think rationally, couldn’t focus on anything but the awe you felt at being touched without being slammed with visions of the future.

You forgot about the terrifying visions you had gotten when Keigo touched you.

You forgot about how he had hurt your friend, broke her heart with no explanation.

You forgot about his hands refusing to leave your body.

“Keigo, this is…. Amazing” You breathed, wide eyes snapping up, catching his smiling face, eyes crinkly and twinkly.

“I had my team modify some quirk-cancelling cuffs! You seemed so upset whenever someone touched you, I couldn’t leave you with such a burden.”

Nodding, you returned your gaze to the bracelet, turning your wrist this way and that to look at the bracelet from different angles.

“I mean, I know how much I like being touched, and touching. I think I’d totally die if I couldn’t.” Keigo chuckled, but you weren’t listening.

The rest of his time sitting next to you on the couch was spent explaining the colors he had spent so long picking (“They’re my personal favorite, aren’t they nice?”) and why he had decided on a bracelet (“It could’ve been a necklace, but I think it looks better in it’s original cuff design, looks cooler that way.”).

By the time he had to leave, you were completely sidetracked, so distracted with your shiny new jewelry that you didn’t even remember to ask what his deal was with being a jerk to your friend, his now ex-girlfriend.

-----

“-and then he gave me the bracelet. I wasn’t thinking much after that, I just… I can hug you, isn’t that incredible?”

You gave your friend another squeeze, feeling a smile dance across your face. But then you sobered, pulling back from her with your hands on her shoulders, quickly becoming serious.

“But he’s really starting to kind of weird me out. Why won’t he explain why he broke up with you? He’s being a little bitch. I tried asking him a couple times, but he kept cutting me off, and I feel like the bracelet was a distraction to stop me from busting his chops about his behavior towards you.”

Your friend looked sad for a second, before shrugging. “I dunno, he just said things weren’t working out, and that while he liked me, he’s not ready for a relationship right now ‘cause of where he’s at in his life.”

“Psh-“ You scoffed, going in for another comforting squeeze for your friend. “-that’s code for “I’m a fuckboy and want to sleep around”.”

“I know….. But it still hurts.” You friend sighed, wrapping her arms around your neck. “But at least he gave you that quirk thing. I’ve never seen you so happy.”

“I just wish he was a mildly decent person.” You grumbled, detaching from the hug to sit back, glaring at the ceiling. “He gives me the fucking creeps.”

“How so?” You friend locked her head to the side, throwing her arm over the back of the couch. You had called her over the second Keigo had left, finally gathering your wits about you.

“I dunno…” You shrugged, not quite ready to tell her about the disturbing visions containing him. Did that have something to do with their breakup? Was it your fault? What was going to happen with Keigo? It honestly scared you, the residual feelings and sensations you could remember from the visions.

Your friend nodded understandingly. “Some people just give off those vibes. Well, at least we don’t ever have to see him again. Good riddance I say.”

You agreed.

——-

Knocking on the door, you shuffled your feet as you took in the house.

It was one of those rich places - nice neighborhood, fancy street filled with lavish houses, expensive cars. You felt slightly out of place, shifting from foot to foot in your clearance-rack clothes.

The door swung open, revealing a sleepy Keigo, shirtless, clad in nothing but sweatpants.

“Oh, um-“ You quickly turned, averting your eyes, trying to give the man privacy in case he hadn’t realized he was shirtless. It looked like he had just woken up from a nap, eyes blinking owlishly, hair mussed.

“Hey (Y/N), come on in.”

Still keeping your eyes turned away, you stepped inside the opulent house, trying not to gape too much at the decor inside. You didn’t want to look like a complete peasant in front of Keigo, but he’d already been to your house, so you could imagine that he knew of your poor-ness.

“Something wrong? You can look at me y’know, I’m not gonna turn you to stone or something.” Keigo joked, voice entirely too close for comfort.

Head whipping around, you found that he was too close, practically almost touching you as he stood beside you, head cocked as he watched you.

“No… nothings wrong, you’re just…” You gestured to his torso, and Keigo looked down in confusion, before looking back at you, a grin on his face.

“Ah, just woke up.” He shrugged, before reaching out to touch your arm. “Bracelet still keeping that quirk at bay?”

You nodding, following the blonde as he turned and walked further into his house, towards the kitchen.

“Glad to hear! I just wanted to look at it a bit, make sure nothing’s worn or torn, y’know? Hate for you to have to deal with the no-touching thing again.” He said over his shoulder, gesturing for you to sit down at the island, on one of the barstools.

You did so, watching the man open his fridge, take out a carton of milk, uncap it. “Is it too tight?”

“Nope.”

He drank right out of the bottle, and you watched some dribble out of the corner of his mouth, down his chin. The man finished gulping down the milk, taking the bottle away from his lips to swipe at the white trail of liquid rolling down his chin.

Eyes dark, he made contact with your own eyes as he cleaned his chin with a finger, stuffing it in his mouth to suck it clean.

That was gross.

The next second, he was back to normal, cheerfully putting the milk back into the fridge. “Good, good. Now, mind if I take a look at it? You should keep it on though.”

You nodded, and Keigo straightened, walking around the island to sit next to you, shuffling his stool closer.

He grabbed your wrist, laying it out on the island, before beginning to poke at the bracelet, running his fingers over it, fiddling with it, squeezing the tendons in your hand, smoothing his hand up your arm.

It felt a bit intrusive.

“So the visions are all blocked?”

“Yep.”

“And you can touch and be touched?”

“Yeah.”

“How’s your appetite? Sometimes complete quirk suppression can make you lose your appetite.”

“It’s been normal, I guess I’m a little hungrier than normal, but I’ve been getting out more too, not as afraid of crowds.”

“Nice! And how about your libido?”

You spluttered, choking on your own spit, snatching your hand away from Keigo’s wandering touches.

“Excuse me? That’s a bit personal, thanks.”

Keigo shrugged, bright eyes hooded and lazy. “It’s just a question.”

“Are you done making sure it’s all good? No broken parts?” You changed the subject, narrowing your eyes. You can’t believe your friend had ever dated him, that you had ever thought he was anything but a playboy.

You wouldn’t even be here, in his house, but he had come into the jewelers a while back (both you and your friend had blocked his number), spouting something about your bracelet needing constant checks and maintenance in order to keep suppressing your quirk. (“Wouldn’t want it to stop working, right? Just stop by sometimes, here’s my address.”).

So here you were.

Keigo leaned back a little, raising an eyebrow at your irritated tone of voice. “Woah there, don’t get snippy. I’m doing you a favor, right? I’m not trying to hurt you or something.”

Technically, you guess he was right. But he had played your friend, had fucked with her feelings. He was a fuckboy, liked messing with each and every girl he could find, and you didn’t care to be one of them.

“And I appreciate that Keigo. But I like to keep my private life private.”

Keigo was silent, simply holding out a hand for you to place your arm in, so he could fiddle more with the bracelet.

Several moments of awkward silence passed before he spoke again. “You’re being awfully ungrateful. It makes me think you don’t even want this little gift. If I were you, I’d be doing everything I could to show the person kind enough to do such a thing for me how thankful I was.”

Lost for words, you stared at the man. Was he expecting some sort of award? Some sort of prize? It’s not like you had anything to give him.

“I don’t have anything to give you in thanks. Just my words, which I’ve said plenty of. I didn’t ask you to make this for me.” You pointed out.

“Sure, but you use it, don’t you? You wouldn’t like it if I took it away, right? Think about how miserable your life was before I gave you this.”

Your life had been miserable. Afraid to go out in crowds, afraid to leave the house, Nervous about grocery shopping, about paying and having the cashier touch your hand as they handed over the change.

Scared of public transportation, of coffeeshops and bookstores, of public parks, even your own home. What if one of your roommates forgot and touched you? Or accidentally bumped into you?

Plus, you could hug now, and shake hands, and slap your friends back when she told a horrible joke, or tap her when you wanted her attention.

You didn’t want to go back to before. “I’m sorry Keigo… I really do think it’s lovely, and I can never thank you enough for doing this for me.”

Keigo let go of your arm, and it swung back to your side. You could feel the man looking at you.

“You know what would let me know that you mean it?”

God, it better not be something sexual.

“You could buy me coffee. Or maybe a cookie from that bakery on 1st Avenue, you know the one? With the little bunny pastries?”

That surprised you.

“You go there? That’s my favorite place.” You mused, looking at Keigo in surprise. He didn’t seem the kind of guy who’d like a place like that. But appearances could be deceiving.

“Of course! I really like their stuff.”

“Alright,” You conceded, rising to your feet. “I’ll get you some stuff from there. Want it today?”

Keigo rose to his feet as well, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “Yeah! Let me get dressed real quick, and then I’ll go with you. Don’t go anywhere birdie.” He shot you a wink, before sauntering past you, out of the kitchen. You raised a brow, surprised. He meant to go with you?

“Make yourself at home while you wait, don’t be afraid to kick up your feet!”

——-

The bakery smelled as lovely as usual.

A warm atmosphere, good food, friendly employees. It was your favorite place for a reason.

“Alright, what do you want?” You asked Keigo, the two of you staring up at the menu.

“Hmm, I don’t know. What are you going to get?”

“Probably a muffin, those are my favorite.”

“What!?! That’s my favorite too! How crazy.” Keigo smiled at you, dimples showing. You got the feeling that he was brown-nosing you, but you kept the thought to yourself, striding up to the counter to order.

Muffins purchased, you approached Keigo, who was lounging by one of the display cases, admiring the delicate, mouthwatering masterpieces held within.

“All good to go?” His smile was so charming, so friendly, you almost caught yourself wanting to see it more. Huffing in irritation at yourself, you pushed past him, shoving the bag with his muffin into his chest.

“Here’s your stuff. I’m going home now, see you around.”

“Wait!” Keigo turned, jogging a little to catch up as you exited the bakery. “We gotta eat these before they get cold - hey, birdie, are you listening to me?“

You weren’t, stoically keeping your head turned forward, walking with determination. There was only so much of Keigo that you could tolerate, and you had reached your limit. He was starting to really annoy you, didn’t he get that you wanted to go home? You’ll just eat your muffin on the subway, it’s not that hard.

“(Y/N)-“ His sudden growl was punctuated by an arm on your shoulder, spinning you around and pulling you towards the man.

“Hey-!” The sudden collision of your face with his chest knocked your breath away, almost causing you to drop your own muffin in the process.

When you managed to gather yourself, you shot a glare up at Keigo’s face, only to find the blonde smirking down at you, a fierce glint in his eyes.

“I expect you to listen when I’m talking, got it? I don’t like being ignored.”

That’s evident.

You tried to back away, but he still had a hand on your shoulder, squeezing you tight to him. “Keigo! Let me go, you stupid idiot-“

“Stop it, I’m not doing anything to you, ya big baby.” He cooed down at you, before taking his hand away, letting you stumble backwards.

He was just messing with you, teasing you. It was obvious, yet still you allowed him to be around you.

“Alright, I’m sorry, I know all the touching’s gotta be new still. Wanna go eat these in the park? I’ll buy you some ice cream if you want.”

“I don’t want ice cream, I want to go home.”

Keigo frowned, walking after you when you turned on your heel, heading for the subway. “Why do you dislike me so much? I’ve done so much to help you, and yet you spit in my face. Your parents ever teach you how to be grateful? Or even respectful?”

You gasped at his accusation, stopping in your tracks to whirl around, only to find the man far closer than what you had expected. Still, you tried to hide your surprise at his proximity, jabbing a finger in his direction.

“You are a playboy, you broke my friend’s heart, and you want to sleep with every single person you come across just to mess with their feelings. I don’t want to be around you. I won’t get dragged into that.”

The man watched you, face solemn and contemplative. “Is that really how you see me?”

“Why would I say any of that unless it was true?”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking up and around, as if gathering his bearings, before back down at you.

“Have you ever considered that I’m the one getting my heart broken?”

“Yeah right-“ You scoffed, only for Keigo to cut you off.

“People want to sleep with me because they think it’ll get them something that they want. Fifteen second fame, a piece in a tabloid about my “new lover”…. Think it’ll help them further their career, or that I’ll give them money. I can’t find anyone real.

“And my friend wasn’t real enough for you?” You spat, not believing him for a second.

“Nope. You think she liked me for who I am?”

“Uh, yeah? She gushed to me all the damn time about how good you were, how she felt about you. That girl held nothing but love and affection for you.”

The man snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, sure, love for my wallet.”

“She’s not like that.” You argued, brows furrowing.

“Really? Cause she was sucking me dry, and not even in a sexy way.”

You crinkled your nose at what he was implying. Your friend wasn’t like that, she truly had felt for Keigo, had liked him as her boyfriend. She wasn’t just a leech.

“I’m done talking about my failed love life.” Keigo said lowly, nudging your shoulder. “I just thought two friends could hangout, but it seems like you think all I do is try and fuck people.”

“No, Kiego…. That’s not what I meant.” Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t, but right now…. You almost felt a twinge of sympathy for him.

Some of what he was saying made sense, how people would try and use him for various reasons. But that still didn’t explain his sudden and harsh breakup with your friend. And over text no less, a complete douche move!

But you felt bad about his words, about how he seemed to actually want to hangout, and yet you were accusing him of trying to sleep with you. But what about those visions you had had? Was that even how they went? Or were you remembering falsely based on your bias towards the man?

And what about his suggestive touches, his leering gaze? Was that maybe just how he always was, and it wasn’t exclusive to you? Were you inflating your place in his life, thinking that he wanted you?

It was confusing, and you didn’t want to think about it, try and untangle the lies from the truth. Right now, you just wanted to eat your muffin.

“If you really didn’t mean it, then can we go eat these in the park? I just want to chill with someone that isn’t trying to gain something from me. I want to spend time with someone that’s real.”

With a half-irritated sigh, you nodded, hoping you wouldn’t regret hanging out with the obnoxious man.

-----

He kept calling you, texting you. You’d had to unblock his number at some point, in order for him to text you about the bracelet and when he needed to look at it.

“Come overrrrr, I’m bored!”

“Birdie, are you hungry? The delivery place gave me extra Torikatsu and I don’t want it to go bad. Can I come drop it off?”

He’d swing by the jewelers, leaning over the counter to talk to you about a recent shoot he’d booked, or something he saw recently.

Keigo seemed to slowly insert himself into every facet of your live, against your will, ignoring every subtle, irritated attempt of yours to turn him away. Every single time you saw him, your mind would inevitably think of the visions, but you felt like you couldn’t trust yourself with those anymore.

The man assured you at every step, he had no romantic feelings for you, he just wanted a friend, someone to put him in his place, be honest with him.

You definitely were honest.

Snapping at him when he showed up at your apartment uninvited, coming up behind you on the street and grabbing your sides, laughing when you shrieked and tried to hit your attacker, only to realize it was Keigo.

Tearing into him when he tried to talk badly about your friend - she had been having less and less contact with you, and you couldn’t figure out why. Now your relationship with her was reduced to curt text messages. Maybe she was just going through a hard time, and wanted alone time? Still, you let her know you were there for her, whenever she needed.

You were honest when Keigo asked your opinion on food, TV shows, clothes, movies. It was almost satisfying saying something sucked, just to see Keigo’s face fall slightly, before he shook his head, whining.

“Then help me pick something out! I can’t do it without you-“

He totally could, he was just being a baby.

The more he inserted himself into your life, the more you realized that he was akin to a petulant child, just with muscles and a penchant for inappropriate touching.

Whenever he saw you, he’d try to draw you into a hug, letting his hands drop far down your back, way too low for you to feel comfortable. You’d slap them away, and Keigo would laugh, before ruffling your hair.

He’d have you come over so he could check your quirk suppressor, except he was in the middle of a show, and it was getting to the best part. (“Sit down, shhh, it’s just getting good!”) You’d have to sit through the entire thing, enduring Kiego’s hand lazily drawing shapes over your pants on your thigh, simply putting it back whenever you shoved it off.

He was insufferable, irritating to no end, but you could tell he was a lonely man, bitter about his love life and with his friendships.

So you tolerated his presence.

After all, he wasn’t trying to hurt you. That’s something he reiterated every single time you shied away from his touch. He made you feel like a fool for thinking the man was hitting on you, when he made it so clear that he wasn’t, only interested in friendship.

Until you fell asleep at his house.

Another one of those days were he needed to look at your quirk suppressor (which you were 99% sure was fine, it seemed like he just enjoyed seeing it on your wrist). He had been rummaging around in his room before he had to run and open the front door for you, talking as he walked back to return to his previous task.

Apparently he was trying to find a good shirt, seeing as how he had pants on, but his chest was bare. Keigo instructed you to sit on the bed for a second while he retreated into his massive closet, trying to find a good shirt to go with the rest of his outfit.

His bedroom was pretty large, a full California King taking up the majority of the space, neatly made. The sheets and blankets felt soft beneath your fingers as you sat on it’s edge, prepared to wait for Keigo for a bit.

The man always took his fashion very seriously - one time he’d even spent two hours trying on clothes until he’d decided on an appropriate outfit to go to the park.

So you followed your tired eyes, exhausted from work and dealing with Keigo, worrying about your friend, daily life stressors and the like. Keigo wouldn’t mind if you laid back, right? Your feet wouldn’t be on the bed, so it’d be fine.

And it was fine, pleasant, the room the perfect temperature.

You were roughly jerked out of sleep by pressure. Pressure on your hips, pressure on your lips.

Eyes jolting open, you tried to inhale, only to find yourself unsuccessful.

Keigo was on top of you.

Panicking, your hands came to push at him, a muffled sound of protest being squeaked out from where his lips pressed against yours.

Noticing you were awake, Keigo pulled back, smiling the whole while.

“I’m not willing to wait anymore, I just gotta have you.”

His eyes were glinting, hair tousled, still shirtless. You felt goosebumps arise as you remembered the vision you had so long ago, of this exact moment.

“Wai-mmph!” His lips were on yours again, passionate and warm, moving eagerly. A wet tongue pressed at the seam of your mouth, surprising you and making you blanch, which allowed the man access.

Kiego’s tongue explored the inside of your mouth, playfully tapping your own wet muscle, encouraging you to lift it and wrestle with him.

This was too weird, this wasn’t happening, you couldn’t do this-

Biting down hard, you snapped your teeth shut on his tongue, and Keigo yelped, drawing back immediately.

“Ouch, what the fuck!?! Chill out (Y/N), geez.” His hand was dabbing at his mouth, wincing when it came in contact with his bleeding tongue. You had bitten him deep, but you weren’t focused on that right now.

“What are-what are you doing?” Your voice was breathless, disoriented. The room felt…. Dark, and suffocating, as if it was closing in on the two of you, trapping you.

Keigo looked down at you, and it was only then that you realized you had been moved to lie on the bed fully, shoes off, legs splayed. The man rested on his stomach between them, his weight pressed against your body, keeping you still.

“I told you, I can’t wait anymore. I’ve been as nice as I can, but it’s time you started paying me back for everything I’ve done for you.”

What? Paying him back-was he talking about the quirk suppressor he had gifted you? Had he been lying about his true intentions this whole time?

“That’s not right, it was a gift, you-you don’t have to pay back a gift.” You spluttered, feeling as if your chest was collapsing.

Keigo shook his head, swooping down to leave a bloody kiss on your forehead, which you cringed at, before pulling back to speak.

“Nah, it wasn’t a gift. You know how expensive it was? You were always gonna have to compensate me. Now shush, I wanna feel you-“

One of his hands grabbed your jaw, keeping your face turned towards his, pressing down until tears formed in your eyes. His lips were bloody from the bite on his tongue, tasting unmistakably like iron.

You didn’t want this.

Trying to bite him again left you with a slap to your thigh, making you cry out. Keigo huffed out a laugh against your mouth.

He detached from your lips, just to start nibbling at your jawline, elating streaks of red where his lips touched.

“God, you are so sexy. I was trying to chill, but then I came out and you were sleepin’ all cute, and I couldn’t fucking stop myself from touching.”

“Stop doing this, I can pay you with something different. I don’t wanna do this Keigo.” You whispered, on the verge of crying.

“No, I get to decide what you’ll be doing for me, it’s my bracelet-“

“It’s not, you gave it to me, please stop-“

“Shut up.” He growled sinking his teeth into the side of your neck, nipping at the skin hard enough to have you screaming. “You’re so ungrateful, where’s my thanks? I’ve done so much for you.”

“Thank you, thank you Keigo, I appreciate it all-“ You hurried out, hoping it was what he wanted to hear “But I can’t do this, please don’t make me. I wanna go home.”

“There we go, I like the sound of you thanking me. You’re going to thank me for each and every time you cum tonight, got it?”

“No, no, we can’t do this, I can’t! Get off of me, please-“

“You’ll do it, or else I’ll whip you until your flesh hangs off of you in strings.” He hissed, squeezing your jaw cruelly.

The tears in your eyes overflowed as you fell silent.

“Aw, birdie, don’t cry. I’m not gonna hurt you, I never have, right?” He waited for a second, watching your face before he pressed harder, eyes hardening “Right?“

You nodded jerkily, and Keigo came to kiss your tears away, savoring their salty taste as they rolled down your cheeks.

“Keigo, this isn’t right though, please get off me. I don’t want this-“

“You want me to take this away?” A hand caught your shaking wrist, the one that had the quirk suppressor fastened snugly around it, wrenching it up so both of you could see it. “Huh? Put you back where you were in your miserable little life? Running away from everyone, holing up in your apartment, not willing to touch or be touched…”

The very thought made your insides churn, and a fresh round of tears rolled down your face as you shook your head no, lips wobbling as you whined. You felt so pathetic, so small and dumb underneath Keigo.

“That’s what I thought. You’re going to relax now, right? No more begging unless it’s for more.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, beginning to shuffle around until he could slide his hands under your shirt, pressing against your tummy as you flinched away.

“Don’t worry birdie, you’re gonna like every single thing we’re gonna do. You’ve had sex now, yeah? Since I gave you the bracelet?”

You shook your head “no”, it’s not like you were eager for sex before you got it, and all the touching-without-terrifying-visions thing was still new to you, the dating world was being eased into. Somehow though, every single date seemed to be crashed by the man on top of you.

Keigo lit up like a Christmas tree, licking his lips gleefully. “Okay, okay, I can-whew, that’s hot-I can be gentle.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince you, his hands skirting up your ribs, shucking up your shirt as the traveled higher and higher.

“Keigo please-“

“Don’t you dare say stop, I’m not gonna. You’re the first person that doesn’t want anything from me, you’re real, and I’m not stopping.”

His admission made you cringe, recoiling from his touch. He followed you, palms finally smoothing over your breasts, over your bra.

“You’re going to do what I say, or else this-“ Your wrist was wrenched into view, red-and-black bracelet glittering. “-gets removed. And I’ll still do whatever the fuck I want, but you’ll be off in your mind having visions of who-knows-what while I have my way. Got it?”

Your blood chilled, body suddenly feeling ice cold. His tone was dead serious, spitting out the words with a sense of finality.

“So, just lay there and take it birdie, I’ll be good to you.”

#yandere keigo takami #keigo x reader #Keigo Takami #yandere takami keigo #takami keigo #takami keigo x reader #Yandere bnha #yandere #tw.dubcon #tw.noncon #tw.somno #tw dubcon #creepy keigo

788 notes · View notes

azuls-octobussy · 3 years

Note

Is it okay to request the sfw for jack howl? Or do you perhaps have a letter limit? Sorry if this is annoying! 💦

Your request has been received!!

Of course it's alright! I've done it with Leona, why not Jack?

Rated G for General Audiences

A = Affection: He’s our little tsun-tsun, so he’s not terrible affectionate. When he is, he’s very touchy-feely.

B = Best friend: He’s not the most outgoing guy, so you would have to initiate any contact. After a while, though, you kinda start to grow on him.

C = Cuddles: Jack's a big dude with a broad chest. Feel free to lay on it as he has one arm wrapped around your shoulders.

D = Domestic: Jack is competent at household chores and things. He’s not the best cook in the world either, but he tries his best and his food usually turns out better than expected.

E = Ending: He’s honest to a fault, and he’s tell you straight why he’s breaking up with you to your face. It may sting, but you can respect his honesty.

F = Fiance(e): It wouldn’t be a fast engagement, but after a period of being together for so long, Jack would want to get engage and eventually married.

G = Gentle: Kinda. He doesn't know his own strength sometimes, especially compared to you as a human, and even though he doesn't mean to, he can be a bit rough sometimes.

H = Hugs: Big warm bear hugs! Full body, pulled right up against that muscly chest. So cozy, so satisfying.

I = I love you: You're gonna have to say it first. Every time. It's like pulling teeth to get this tsun-tsun to say he loves you. "I mean... yeah, I love you too..." *blush*

J = Jealousy: Pretty jealous, honestly. If he thinks someone is getting too close, he’ll stand really close, maybe wrap his arm around you, and glare at whomever the poor sap is.

K = Kisses: Shy, quick cheek kisses in public, shy deep mouth kisses in private.

L = Little ones: He has two younger siblings so he’s pretty good with kids. He’ll be outside playing tag and hide and seek until they’re exhausted and happy.

M = Morning: Hope you like early morning jogs, because this guy does. If it’s not your thing, you can expect to wake up to the smell of brewing coffee.

N = Night: Jack is the type to go to bed a little early. Nights would be spent getting ready for bed, getting comfortable and going to sleep with each other.

O = Open: Not for a while. Jack is a very private person, and even when he does open up, it’ll bit by little bit.

P = Patience: Jack isn’t angered easily, per se, but he is quick to annoy. It doesn’t take much

Q = Quizzes: He will remember just about everything you will ever tell him. That one time you had a weird meal in some random diner? He remembers every detail out of your mouth.

R = Remember: Probably the first time you slept at his place. It made him so happy to know you felt that safe and comfortable with him.

S = Security: Jack can be overly protective at times. He wants to make sure nothing happens to you, and he will give a death-glare to anyone who he feels is a threat. You do feel safe whenever you’re with him though.

T = Try: On special occasions, Jack will pull out all the stops. Fancy dinner, flowers, and nice evening in, whatever makes you happiest, Jack will do it.

U = Ugly: Jack is not very open with his emotions, so getting him to tell you what’s bothering him is like pulling teeth.

V = Vanity: Not in the slightest. He’s not as blasé as Leona, but he doesn’t put much into how dresses.

W = Whole: He’s restless. Wondering where you, if you’re ok. He wants to be there to make sure you’re safe.

X = Xtra: Jack would be likely to try and surprise you with breakfast in bed every now and then.

Y = Yuck: Even though he can be like this at times, someone who thinks they can do everything on their own.

Z = Zzz: He will let you cuddle his tail when you sleep together. He knows how fluffy and soft you think it is.

#disney twisted wonderland #disney's twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst #twst sfw headcanons #sfw alphabet #jack howl #twst jack #writing request #your request has been received

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pillage-and-lute · 4 years

Text

An Ever Fixed Mark (part 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (here) Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10,

Read it on Ao3 HERE

A little bit of BAMF! Jaskier, a lot of emotionally constipated/self flagellating Geralt, some miscommunication, and a secret.

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Geralt awoke slowly. The anxiety and excitement of the wedding had taken its toll, and the comfortable bed had enveloped him nicely. There was also the warm, comfortable weight in his arms.

Jaskier.

It was Jaskier in his arms. The young man was curled up, still fast asleep, with his head tucked against Geralt’s chest. Geralt wondered who had gravitated to whom in the night. Had he vvmoved unconsciously hold Jaskier? Perhaps. Jaskier must have cuddled up to him too, though. There was no other way to explain the way Jaskier’s hand was curled, lightly, around Geralt’s medallion. Holding on to Geralt. On his other hand, the wedding ring glittered.

Used to assessing battle situations, this train of thought happened in thirty seconds or less. His processing was significantly sleep slowed, however, because he finally became aware of what had woken him.

There was a pounding on the door. The urgent pounding of someone who desperately wanted to speak with the occupants but didn’t want to make others aware.

Without other options Geralt gently extricated himself from Jaskier, accidentally waking the young man in the process, pulled on the pants from the day before, and crossed to the door.

It was Eskel.

“What?”

“It’s almost ten in the morning,” Eskel said. “Vesemir wants us to leave really soon. Um, check if Jaskier has people he wants to say goodbye to.”

“Our things,” Geralt began.

Eskel waved a dismissive hand. “Vesemir had them packed up last night, but he really wants us to leave and he won’t tell us why.”

Geralt shrugged, reassured his brother, and closed the door.

Jaskier was sitting up in bed, his undershirt, a large, flowy thing, had slipped off one shoulder. Geralt’s stomach lurched, rolled, and finally curled up. Somehow it wasn’t in an unpleasant way, though. The skin was pale gold in the torchlight. It brought thoughts of sinking his teeth into all that glowing skin, gripping as he folded his body over Jaskier’s and...

Geralt dunked his head in the washbasin.

“Is that an okay temperature,” Jaskier said, slipping on his wedding attire from the day before. “I think it was warmed up for us last night but it’s probably pretty cold by now.”

It was doing exactly what Geralt needed it to, so he just grunted.

“I don’t have anyone I need to say goodbye to,” Jaskier said as Geralt wiped water from his eyes. “We can leave whenever.”Geralt nodded and pulled on his wedding doublet. Jaskier, all in white and pearls still looked like some sort of angel. He took Jaskier’s hand, and they left.

It was Jaskier’s guidance, of course, that brought them back to the rooms that had been for the witchers, and Vesemir was outside the door already.

“Was worried you two would linger,” he griped, but it was good-natured.

“Yeah honeymooners, how’s married life feel?,” Lambert smirked. He had packs over his shoulder, so did Eskel, and Vesemir. Eskel offered Geralt his pack and swords. Geralt shouldered them and took a much nicer pack from Lambert, obviously Jaskier’s. Vesemir picked up a lute from where it had been leant against the wall and Jaskier took it gratefully, a hint of a smile touching his round cheeks.

Then the odd little party left.

After all the anxiety and waiting and intrigue and the wedding itself, just walking down to the stables as an little group felt strange. No one stopped them, though.

The witcher’s horses had been cared for, but were otherwise untouched. There was a fifth, a black and white stallion, big but not a battlehorse by any means. Jaskier reached forward and kissed it’s muzzle. The horse responded by huffing in the way horses do and tossing his mane.

They mounted up and were off before the bell in the town center tolled eleven. It just didn’t feel real.

“We’ll ride with you to Egerbak,” Vesemir said, naming a town a day’s ride from Chateau Lettenhove. “From there we’ll go our separate ways, not good for witchers to be all in one group.”

“Why?” Jaskier said, looking puzzled. “Wouldn’t it make fighting monsters easier?”

“Sometimes,” Eskel said, “But if the terrain is rough you can get in one another’s way.”

“Get paid less too, the locals think it’s easy and give up less coin,” Lambert said, a little sourly.

“Most jobs need just one witcher,” Geralt said, unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “And villagers get edgy if there’s more than that, they fear an attack.” He didn’t mention why. Surely Jaskier knew the reason he was called Butcher. “But there isn’t many of us left, either. We four are all of the wolf school. If there were people who wished us harm, having us all in one place could exterminate our school.”

“That’s horrible,” Jaskier said, blue eyes wide. The color was muted today, Geralt noticed. The sky was overcast and his eyes seemed to reflect the blue-grey light that filtered down.

“Do you think we’re in danger now?” the young man said.

“Depends, do you think your father would send people after you? To kill you I mean.” Vesemir didn’t even raise the question gently.

Jaskier sat, moving steadily astrid his horse, looking straight ahead. After a long moment with just the sound of five sets of hooves he said quietly, “I think maybe we should move a little faster.” He nudged his horse into a canter and fingered his lute strap nervously.

Without further instruction, the witchers formed up. Eskel, keen with magic and with the same good senses of any witcher, rode in front. Lambert, with his predilection for blowing things up from a distance, rode behind. Geralt and Vesemir rode along in the middle, Jaskier between them. He was probably the safest man for a hundred miles.

“You really think he might try something?” Geralt asked quietly. He knew speaking softly wasn’t the same as being tactful, but it was about the best he had.

Jaskier nodded. “It makes sense. If his goal is to start war with the witchers. To say you mistreated me and voided the contract, that’s one thing. But it makes a better story to feed to people if his beloved son is killed the day after the wedding.”

“I just don’t get it,” Geralt said, frustratedly. “Why does he want a war with witchers? I understand he doesn’t want you to be his successor, but he could just disown you, couldn’t he?”

“I was thinking about that,” said Jaskier. “It would look bad if he did, but he could. I think he wants a war with witchers because he wants a war with other countries. Any place that didn’t immediately turn against witchers-- all witchers, not just your school--well, he could declare them an enemy of Lettenhove, which is a big province. That makes it an enemy of Kerack and then Kerack goes to war with anywhere that decides they need someone to fight their monster problem.”

“That’s...” Geralt said.

“Despicable?”

“Well, yes, but I mean, it’s a lot to comprehend,” Geralt said. He felt a little at sea. This wasn’t his job, all this, this politics. He was a witcher. Find monster, swing sword, kill monster, get coin. That was what he did. Alliances and assasination and wars and marriage, they weren’t supposed to factor in.

“Yeah.” Jaskier said.

They rode on, safe inside the wolf school’s formation. After perhaps a quarter of an hour Jaskier slung his lute around and began to pick at it idly. It had a case, but he’d tied that onto his big stallion instead. Apparently he liked having it available.

“Why does he want a war?” Geralt asked after a little longer. “What does your father get out of it?”

Jaskier stopped plucking. “It’s part of the earl thing, in his case the position has a lot to do with finances and the kingdom’s treasury. Wars mean finances are more important, which makes him more important, and he get’s more power.”

“All of this is just a power grab?” Geralt said. “That’s daft.”

“That’s politics,” Jaskier said, a tad tiredly. “He probably thinks he could be made a duke. And yes, daft is a good word for it all.”

After that they just rode, stopping only briefly for lunch and to rest the horses. Jaskier played his lute quietly, most of the journey. At one point he pulled a notebook and charcoal stick from his bag to jot things down and muttered as he played.

Geralt had no idea if the lad’s music was impressive, but he was impressed with how he sat a horse, multitasking as if he was part centaur. He did most emphatically not think about how nice Jaskier’s thighs looked in the clothes he’d changed into at their lunch stop.

The wedding attire was very fine, but Jaskier looked somehow...right in the clothes he wore now. Blue trousers of fine but durable material and a white chemise under a blue doublet. He’d asked if he should wear the basilisk leather, but Geralt had shook his head. It was a fine spring day and basilisk leather kept heat like a fur coat, he didn’t want to cook his husband before they’d been married a whole day.

And wasn’t that a thought that clanked about in Geralt’s head. Husband. Husband husband husband husband husband. They were married and Geralt had a husband. Who was nobility. And Geralt was his husband.

And Geralt kind of wanted to kiss his husband.

That was his problem, however, not Jaskier’s. Whatever the damn ‘implied hidden fidelity clause’ said, Jaskier was free to sleep with whomever he chose. Why would any young man, in the position to choose, pick a scarred witcher, the Butcher of Blaviken? Who could choose Geralt?

Geralt suddenly felt very bitter, for himself and on Jaskier’s behalf. Neither of them had asked for this, and the witchers weren’t even going to get anything from it. Now he had a husband, a semi-disgraced noble, who apparently had musical talents. Bardic? Geralt didn’t know but it seemed...right.

Regardless, he needed a place to drop Jaskier off. Somewhere safe. It couldn’t be claimed he mistreated the man if they weren’t together. That way, Jaskier couldn’t...

Couldn’t what?

Geralt had never before actually contemplated all the ways a normal human could be hurt on the Path. Witchers, sure, he knew about that but humans were delicate. Geralt had been told once that you shouldn’t just eat rabbit because it...it did something and you would get sick. Or maybe starve? Because the meat was wrong somehow. Too lean? Not lean enough?

It didn’t matter because he wasn’t a human. He remembered a dreadful three weeks when coin had been lean eating just rabbit and he’d been fine. Jaskier might not be. Geralt hardly earned enough coin for himself how was he supposed to feed and protect them both.

Not to mention things like sleeping rough and rainstorms and all the little pitfalls of traveling.

It had seemed fine in theory before. Jaskier would have his basilisk leather and would stay at camp but now reality was setting in.

Tired from the road, the whole group spoke little as they set up camp. Geralt pitched the tent that he would share with Jaskier then set up the fire while his brothers put up their own tents and Vesemirs. Vesemir went hunting.

Geralt was almost eighty five years old, and had been hunting for most of those years, but not one of the younger wolves could match Vesemir’s skill.

Dinner was stew, with meat courtesy of Vesemir. Dessert was no talking at all. This wasn’t unusual at all for the wolves, but Jaskier was looking around nervously.

“You’re safe,” Geralt said. “It’s fine.”

“Okay,” Jaskier said. It seemed odd, because he’d been so vibrant and chatty back at Chateau Lettenhove.

“Pass me your dish,” Geralt said. Wordlessly, Jaskier handed him the shallow bowl. Geralt scraped it onto the grass.

“I’m sorry about the whole...assassin thing and, and everything,” Jaskier said after another silent minute.

“Hmm,” Geralt said.

The overast sky finally gave way to the rain that had been threatening all day and with a sigh the witchers each turned in for the night. Jaskier crawled into the tent after Geralt and settled down onto one of the bedrolls.

Geralt went about his nightly routine as if nothing was different, untying his hair and stripping himself his clothes. He felt oddly flattered when Jaskier let out a tiny gasp as he divested himself of his smallclothes. A glance showed him the young man, wide eyed in the dim light, kneeling on his bedroll.

The tent smelled of lust.

Geralt pulled on the well-worn loose trousers he preferred and nudged Jaskier’s pack at him. The boy took the hint and rummaged in it, pulling out similarly loose sleep pants and changing quickly. Geralt looked away for decency’s sake. They may be married but that was no reason to take liberties. Unfortunately, Jaskier was wearing another loose chemise to bed, and Geralt’s thoughts dragged back to the tantalizing view of shoulder from that morning.

“Wrap up tight,” he grunted, annoyed at himself for even thinking of that. “If the temperature drops in the night I don’t want to have to deal with you getting sick.”

The lust smell, which had waned somewhat, was entirely gone, replaced with a scent Geralt had smelled on Jaskier before.

“Okay,” Jaskier said quietly, and tucked himself obediently into his bedroll.

Jaskier smelled sad. Like he had the night before.

Geralt rolled into his own bedroll and cursed himself. Of course the boy was sad. Dragged onto the Path with a husband more monster than man. Boyish hormones made him horny, not any desire for something like Geralt. And he was a boy. Nineteen was legally an adult but it was like...what was the phrase Vesemir had used? De jure is not de facto. Legallity is not truth.

Geralt listened to Jaskier’s breathing and thought about their ages. Eighty years for a witcher was still considered a mere stripling youth when considered in the course of a witcher lifespan. For Jaskier, though, he would live to be eighty only if he was lucky. On a witcher’s Path he almost certainly wouldn’t be.

Jaskier’s breathing hadn’t slowed into the deep, even pattern of sleep. Geralt wondered what was keeping him awake. Then again, if he was sleeping beside a monster, he’s lie awake too.

It seemed as though neither of them would ever sleep, both of them laying, inches between them, on their separate bedrolls. Then, between one blink and the next, Geralt must have slipped into sleep.

He awoke to a damp world. It had rained through the night and the rain was still drizzling against the tent when he opened his eyes. The humidity and the little moisture that seeped through the cloth of the tent had built up and everything felt sticky and muggy.

Although every item of clothing in his pack had been put in dry, almost nothing felt entirely dry as he struggled into proper clothes. Jaskier woke too, blinking his eyes open muzzily and wrinkling his nose at the damp feeling. He also dressed in silence, frowning as he pulled on his clothes.

There was no dry firewood for a fire and Eskel, gifted though he was with magic, couldn’t make a fire last on soaked wood. The group ate cold rations. Jaskier tried to start up a conversation with Eskel about literature.

Geralt smiled inwardly, but let none of it show on his face, lest Jaskier think he was mocking him. Eskel, despite the best efforts of everything the wolf school could do, was so far from being a morning person as to be out the other side. He could stay up all night, but wasn’t conversational until nearly noon.

Jaskier looked disheartened, though. Geralt wasn’t a substitute for literary conversation, so he just packed up Jaskier’s horse for him. For some reason, Jaskier frowned at that, but then nodded at Geralt and they all mounted up.

It was an hour’s ride to Egerbak, where the witchers would part. From there, Geralt thought, mapping the journey in his head, he and Jaskier could turn for Oxenfurt. The journey would be almost a month, and Geralt would have to hunt along the way to earn coin, but Jaskier would be safe there.

While Geralt was musing, Jaskier was trying to strike up a conversation with Vesemir. The old wolf was more of a morning person than Eskel, but not a conversationalist, so Jaskier eventually shrugged a little sadly and pulled out his lute.

He plucked a tune, editing it again and again until he seemed satisfied. It was catchy, an earworm Geralt was sure would never leave his head. Then Jaskier began to hum.

Geralt himself was very nearly tone deaf, and frankly didn’t like music in most cases, but Jaskier’s voice sounded okay. It was only humming, anyway.

Geralt’s ears pricked and he saw the shoulders of Eskel, riding point, tense up too. He knew all the witchers had heard the noise. Hoofbeats were approaching fast. Geralt craned in his saddle to see the rider, but could make out little between the rain, which had graduated from drizzle to downpour.

Vesemir coughed, flexing his hand on the reigns, opening his fist then closing it again. The witchers drew together, closing their formation. To the rider it would likely look as if they merely were drawing towards one another to give him room. It worked to do that, for sure, but it was also a defensive maneuver, trained into them and beaten into their memory. Witchers rarely fought alongside eachother, but when they had to they were prepared. Closing ranks also had the benefit of enclosing Jaskier, like a hand wrapping around a precious stone.

Geralt’s steel sword had been tied at his hip, and his silver along with the saddlebags. It made him look less threatening, more like a knight errant than someone ready to battle at any time. In truth, the change from being slung at his shoulders was practical. In combat he could draw the sword from his hip and be prepared, rather than having to reach up to draw his weapons. It left him less exposed on horseback. He reached down to his hip and, in a smooth and almost impercepitble motion, flicked the tie open on the sheath of his sword, loosening its hold to make the sword easier to draw. He turned the movement into a casual stroke of Roach’s flank.

The rider pulled up alongside. “Sir witcher,” he panted, “I must speak with Master Julian.”

Geralt glanced at Jaskier but the boy looked...different. He was sitting his horse more stiffly and looked more haughty and aristocratic than Geralt had ever seen him. Nothing of his clothing had changed, and he was in poor garb compared to the silken doublets he had worn before, but in a second his posture had turned him into the spitting image of his father.

“Speak, man,” Jaskier said, waving one hand dismissively.

“You left without your dowry.”

“Dowry,” Jaskier said coldly.

Geralt felt cold for a different reason. He’d seen a ring on the hand of the rider, the left hand’s index finger. It was large, with a heavy stone. He was a slim young man in the dress of a footman, but something in his build said otherwise. This was an assasin, Geralt would bet his medallion, and the ring held poison, or something equally nasty.

“I have no need of a dowry,” Jaskier was saying, passing straight through haughty and going for enigmatic without bother to slow down.

“Your father insisted,” said the assassin, sidling his horse closer. Geralt nudged Roach and she deftly stepped in the way.

“My father can take back his coin,” Jaskier said, even as the man offered a bag, slightly open to show gold coins. “I am no maiden, and my marriage shall produce no heirs.”

“But--”

“Don’t speak over your betters,” Jaskier said, every words ringing like steel. “A dowry is to set up a household. Well my household, such as it is,” here Jaskier gestured about him. “Is set up. Traditionally, if the wife dies without producing a male heir to the marriage the dowry is returned. I shall produce no heirs, so I’m returning the dowry preemptively.”

The assasin looked truly stumped. “I must give this to you,” he said, reaching forward, across Roach’s rump to hand the bag to Jaskier. Geralt saw the man’s thumb hover over the poison ring, as if about to flick open the compartment.

“No,” Jaskier said.

“At least dismount so that we can discuss this,” pleaded the rider.

Geralt looked about them. They’d been riding through woodland all day, but it was dense here, just the place one might lie in wait. Then he saw it, the thing he’d been waiting for since they’d left Lettenhove. A glint of light off of metal in the underbrush. Vesemir caught his eye, he’d seen it too.

“Melitele help us!” Jaskier cried. “There’s bandits in the woods!”

Geralt saw anger and annoyance flash onto the face of the assassin. “No bandits in these woods my lord, I’m sure,” he said smoothly.”

Geralt knew the plan in that instant. Jaskier would be found dead on the roadside, the rider would stagger back into Lettenhove, or perhaps onward into Egerbak and tell how the witchers had cruelly murdered Jaskier and made off with the dowry, leaving him for dead. These hiddent troops were presumably to subdue the witchers while Jaskier was murdered.

Finally, Geralt drew his sword.

Damn. If they killed the Earl’s men that would also look bad.

Jaskier, switching from enigmatic to foppishly distressed. “You simply must turn back,” he was saying to the assassin. “It’s quite alright, I have all these big, strong witchers to protect me, and before I left lettenhove I sent a xenovox message to a mage in Temeria, a friend of mine. I have a powerful protection on me.”

“You do,” the assassin said, edging his horse back a step. Protection spells tended to get messy in a guts and gore way for those who crossed them.

“Oh yes, and my darling husband, isn’t that right, dear heart?” Jaskier said, giving Geralt doe eyes. Geralt blinked.

“Uh, yes, Triss Merigold,” Geralt said, thanking his lucky stars, which most of the time had utterly failed to be lucky for him, that he actually knew a mage in Temeria.

“Merigold,” the would-be assassin said. “The name rings a bell, I’ll just,” and he rode off, back towards Lettenhove.

Jaskier spurred his horse. “Let’s get out of this rabbit snare,” he muttered. The witchers rode double-time to clearer ground.

“Well,” Vesemir said, once they were well and truly clear. “Quick thinking, lad, and some of the most pretentious acting I’ve ever seen.”

Jaskier bowed in his saddle, smiling like a moonbeam. “Thank you, although I’m just glad Geralt had a real name to back me up.”

“Should do,” Lambert snorted as they rode past the first few buildings of Egenbak. “She practically sewed his guts back into his body after a Striga--”

“Shut up,” Geralt growled, but it was too late. Even in the rain, Jaskier’s eyes were sparkling.

Greed, Geralt reflected, and indeed, lust, came in many varieties. Jaskier’s father may covet money and power, but the mere mention of a story had Jaskier coveting it just as viciously. What could be so boring, so lacking in a wealthy young man’s life, Geralt wondered, that he was so starved for adventure?

They bid their goodbyes to the other witchers, Jaskier surprising them each with a hug. Vesemir huffed, but Geralt caught the slight upward twitch of his moustache.

“Fair roads,” Jaskier said, waving to them all. Geralt waved too, and then his brother’s and Vesemir rode away.

So did Jaskier and Geralt, but it hadn’t been three minutes when Jaskier asked, “Striga?”

“Mmmhm.”

“What is a striga?” Jaskier pressed.

“Monster.”

Jaskier huffed. “What sort,” he said, with a bit of a whine. “How is one born...made? What does it look like? What does it do? Why have I never heard of one before?”

“Made by magic. Looks ugly. Does messy awful killings. They’re rare.”

“Please, Geralt, tell me the story?”

Geralt didn’t look over at him. Wasn’t going to. If he caught a glimpse of that face and those eyes pleading he’d give in.

“The rode is going to be awfully boring, Geralt, a story would really help,” Jaskier said, still begging.

“Just focus on riding,”Geralt growled. “I don’t want to have to deal with you if you fall off your horse.” Then he urged Roach on ahead.

It was indeed a very long and boring ride. After a while Jaskier pulled out his lute and began to play.

“Toss a coin,” he sang quietly, then he changed the cord and tried it again, a little higher. “Toss a coin to your witcher.”

“Don’t make up songs about me,” Geralt growled.

“Short of you telling me stories I have to make things up,” Jaskier said. “I know nothing about you.”

“So you write me a song?”

“I think you deserve one,” Jaskier said, as if his very believing it made it fact.

Geralt urged his horse on ahead.

“Come on,” Jaskier said, nudging his horse faster too. “My singing can’t be that bad, can it?” he asket.d lightly.

“Yes,” Geralt growled. “It can.”

They rode the rest of the day without speaking. Jaskier plucked sullenly at his lute.

Geralt was angry, and worse, he didn’t really have any right to be angry. He knew he’d messed up. Day two of marriage and he’d fucked up spectacularly. He was bad at this, and he was angry at himself. Somehow, though, he felt angry at Jaskier too. What was Geralt supposed to do? Answer every childish question? Tell stories? Discuss literature like Eskel could? Like probably all of Jaskier’s high class friends at Oxenfurt and Lettenhove could?

He was a witcher. Witcher meant solitary. It meant silence. It did not mean infernal music and being pestered about a story like a nanny.

He was being an asshole and he knew it, but damnit, he’d been an asshole so long he wasn’t about to stop all at once. It was practically baked in at this point. Being angry was better than trying to be kind an failing. Silence was easier than speaking.

Jaskier drooped in his saddle though, and Geralt felt like a cad.

They stopped for lunch at the side of the road, eating soggy rations and not talking to one another. They were both soaked to the skin, despite heavy cloaks, which were too hot in this late spring storm. Jaskier dripped miserably and carefully wiped down his lute, putting it reverentially in its case.. Up until that point the instrument had been mostly safe from rain, cradled against his body under the cloak. He’d clearly come to the same conclusion that Geralt had, however, that if the instrument stayed out any longer, cloak cover or no, it would get truly wet.

“Raining cats and dogs,” Jaskier said, tentatively. It had the same feeling as a man dipping his toe into water to see how cold it was.

“Hmmm.” Geralt said, neutrally.

Apparently seeing this not outright aggression as an invitation, Jaskier, metaphorically, jumped into the pond.

“See, I think that saying is really rather silly,” he said. “Not only because it, obviously, doesn’t rain animals, but really, cats don’t even like water.”

He continued chattering as they remounted and rode on.

“Dogs do like water of course, well, some, but so few like rainstorms, especially thunder. I wonder why we have that saying then.”

His mind seemed to skip back and forth between subjects like a grasshopper.

“I understand why dogs don’t like thunder, of course, and I don’t care for lightning much myself, but the thunder must be so loud with their sensitive hearing.”

He paused for a split second and Geralt wondered if blissful silence would return but then,

“I imagine thunder must be dreadful with your hearing, right?”

“Hmmm,” Geralt said. Shut up, he thought.

“Oh that’s awful,” Jaskier said. “Do you think it will thunder tonight? I hope not. If it does - or perhaps even if it doesn’t - I think we ought to get a room in an inn tonight. Give our clothes a chance to dry.”

Melitele’s tits. Geralt couldn’t believe one man could talk so much. It was almost like nervous chatter but it grated on his already fraying nerves.

“An inn would be perfect don’t you think? And I could play there. I’m a bard you know. Now I know what you’re thinking, ‘you’re a Viscount, Jaskier,’ and that’s true, although I suppose not anymore, technically from the moment I said ‘I do’ that honor was passed to my half-brother but, I’m a bard as well.”

“Shut up.”

“What?” Jaskier said.

Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling as he did so cold water drip from his hood onto his face. “For the love of all that is good just shut up,” he growled.

“Maybe if you said something back occasionally it wouldn’t be so one sided,” Jaskier said sniffily.

“Maybe if you had any brains in that empty head of yours you’d have something worth while to talk about.”

“I have brains,” Jaskier said, affronted.

“Clearly not enough to know when to shut up,” Geralt sniped back. “I don’t want to have to deal with your incessant chatter all the way to Oxenfurt.”

Jaskier stopped his horse and dismounted, in the middle of the road, in the pouring rain.

“Get back on your horse, have you lost your mind?” Geralt said, but he reigned Roach in.

“Oxenfurt?” Jaskier said, quietly. His voice held no emotion and Geralt felt suddenly that he had really fucked up this time. He dismounted.

“Yes,” he said. “You have friends there, I thought it would be a nice place to go.” He wasn’t sure why he didn’t tell Jaskier that he intended to leave him there, but he felt that, at this time, that wouldn’t go over well.

Jaskier’s face softened. “You thought it would be nice,” he said. “For me to go back there.”

Geralt shrugged. “One destination is as good as the other on my Path, often I just wander.”

Jaskier smiled softly and remounted. “Okay then,” he said. “To Oxenfurt.” He chuckled. “I’m sorry, I suppose dismounting was dramatic, I guess I thought you were taking me somewhere to get rid of me.”

It was like having ice shoved into Geralt’s spine as he mounted Roach again. “I wouldn’t get rid of you,” he said lowly.

“Oh, not ‘get rid of’, like that stupid assassin. I meant...discard, abandon, leave, wash one’s hands of, cast aside.”

They rode on, Jaskier chattered, but less. Geralt didn’t say a single word.

They didn’t make it to a town with an inn that night so they made camp in a soaked clearing again. Guilt ate Geralt as he was eating cold rations and chased him into their tent. He lie awake feeling heavy with it as he heard Jaskier’s breathing drop off.

Jaskier wouldn’t like being left at Oxenfurt, but it would be for his own good, Geralt thought. He didn’t have to tell him right now, anyway. That was a discussion that could wait until Oxenfurt.

Geralt’s guilt didn’t lift completely, but it eased enough that he slipped into meditation.

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I’m still pretty sick with mono, so this took me ages to manage, but its here at last! So psyched to write the next part too.

Tag List!

@llamasdumpsterfire @stinastar @aziz-the-fangirl @mordoriscalling @bastardofmothman @negativenuggetz @morte-mistrata @ailorian @hayleynzlive @filledepluie @bygodstillam @sociowithatardisachevyandawand @faery-god @honeysuckletook @theflurtifly @saibowtie @werevampiwolf @frywen-babbles @the-kewlest @innocentbi-stander @1stbonesfan @aqueenrisesintheeast @toothhurtyam @marauders-fan-account @ineffable-lasagna @limevodka @rocknrollphanda @seralyra @permanently-exhausted-witcher @aj-itated @watchthewolvesfall @00qtee @the-blondey @birds-of-forgiveness @west-moor @abstractartwithoutpaint @darkonesdagger7437 @onwardsandfourwords @underwaterattribute @whenrainbowsend @goldbvtton @little-piece-of-tamlin @in-love-with-writing002 @flustratedcas @fontegagrilledcheese @so--many-fandoms @kirk-spock-in-the-impala @oniongrass @flowercrown-bard @maya-the-yellow-bee @thecomfortofoldstorries @wellthisstinks @thenameislion-dandelion @flowercrown-bard @obsessedchildsworld @debellatis @zotinha456 @tumbleweedtech @goblin-loves-shiny-things @birdsflyhome @holymotherwolf @the-shenny-of-azkaban @darkangel91939 @enkelikauneus @saphiramalbec @silvermirror1997

#geraskier #the witcher #arranged marriage au #miscommunication #angst #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #Vesemir #jaskier #eskel #lambert

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silhouetteofacedar · 3 years

Text

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 8: Primate Social Behavior

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Well fuck.

Scully, to her credit, shifts gears immediately. “Mark, what a pleasant surprise!” she says, all traces of panic gone. “How was the overnight shift?” She gets up out of the booth and gives him a hug.

“Nothing notable aside from a couple reckless Saturday-night partiers and a childbirth,” he replies, dropping a kiss to the crown of Scully’s head. That’s my spot, Mulder thinks in a flash of petulance.“How about you two?” Mark asks, glancing at him. “Work late?”

Mulder is hit with a spike of nausea. He knows how this looks. They both have wet hair, and yet he’s got stubble and wrinkled clothes. They’re sloppy and drowsy and eating the exact same breakfast and oh shit this is not going to be good for her-

“You know how it is in fields like ours,” Scully says with an airy laugh, sliding back into her seat. “No such thing as a weekend.”

Damn, she’s cool as a cucumber. Mulder’s grateful, because he can barely hold himself together right now. He’s sweating down his back and his head is pounding.

“Would you like to join us?” Scully asks, gesturing to the place beside her in the booth.

Mark waves a hand. “Nah, I’m just getting a to-go order on my way home. I promised Mandy a banana muffin,” he explains. “I’ll call you later, Dana. Nice to see you again, Fox,” he adds, nodding to him.

“That was some fast thinking,” Mulder says, taking a minuscule bite of dry toast.

“How do you mean?” Scully asks, watching through the window as Mark walks down the street and out of sight.

“You acted like… like seeing him here, while looking like this…” he motions between them. “There was no shame.”

“Why would I be ashamed, Mulder?” she asks evenly.

He wilts under her blue gaze. “Forget I said anything,” he mumbles to his plate.

“No, go on. I want to hear this,” Scully says, leaning forward. “Is there something you think I should be embarrassed about here? Because the way I see it, I had a pleasant evening with my good friend, and we drank too much wine. He slept on my couch, and now we’re recovering with breakfast.” She takes a gulp of water. “Now, if there’s something you’re ashamed of…”

“No,” Mulder says carefully. “I’m just saying that appearances can be misleading, and the physical evidence - us, in our current states - is open to interpretation. However false those interpretations may be.”

Scully drops her fork to her plate with a clatter. “Jesus, Mulder, I’ve been trying to get that point across to you for years. Just because you see lights in the sky doesn’t mean they’re UFOs. Just because we’re both hungover and unkept, doesn’t mean that… that anything happened.”

“You gonna explain that to Mark? Because he looked a little suspicious.”

“If he poses any questions, I will. But from where I’m sitting, I see nothing to explain.” She picks up her fork and takes a purposeful bite of melon, punctuation at the end of the discussion.

His headache doesn’t start dying down until late that evening. He’s spent most of the day on his couch, alternately dozing and watching Animal Planet.

There’s a documentary about baboons on when the phone rings just after nine PM.

“Mulder,” he says tiredly.

“Fox? Fox, this is Mark Einolander,” the voice on the other end says. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

Mulder sits up abruptly. “No, no; I’m just… i’m just watching this thing about baboons…” He scrambles to pull himself together. “Sorry, how did you get this number?”

“Maggie Scully,” Mark explains. “You’re one of Dana’s emergency contacts. I’m sorry to bother you, this not being an emergency, but I was hoping to talk to you about something.”

Mulder winces. It’s fine, he can’t punch you over the phone, he coaches himself. “I’m all ears,” he says, leaning back against the couch arm rest and reflexively clenching his fist in anxiety.

“First of all, I’d appreciate it if this conversation could be kept confidential,” Mark says.

“Then I should warn you, my phone’s been tapped a few times,” Mulder notes.

Mark chuckles. “I’m not worried about the government or whomever in this case,” he assures him. “I’d just prefer if Dana didn’t know.”

Mulder’s internal alarm bells start ringing. “Oh? Hate to break it to you, Mark, but you missed her birthday by nearly two months.”

Mark laughs. “I’ll make note of that,” he replies. “But I was actually hoping you could provide me with some clarity regarding a few things.”

“Such as…?”

“Well, you and Dana have been friends and partners for a long time, and I know she trusts and confides in you,” Mark says. “You of all people should know she’s a tough nut to crack, so to speak.”

“Uh huh,” Mulder replies, eyes cast to the ceiling.

“My relationship with her is very new, and we’re still getting to know each other; which means there are things I don’t believe are yet appropriate for me to ask.”

So don’t ask them, Mulder thinks with an eye roll. “Is there a point here, Mark? Because if there is I’d love for you to reach it,” he sighs.

“Of course. Sorry. What I mean is… this is very uncomfortable, I’m sorry. Has she… been with anybody? Recently? She told me she hasn’t dated in a long time, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she hasn’t… been around,” Mark finishes.

Mulder lets a stunned silence hang in the air for a moment. “Wow,” he says finally. “I was not expecting that,” he admits. His nausea from earlier has returned, and he gets off the couch and carries the cordless phone with him to the kitchen.

“Again, I’m sorry to ask, but I’m thinking long term. I want a future with Dana,” Mark rationalizes, “And insight into her character is invaluable to me. I have a young daughter, as you know. ”

Holy shit. Mulder tucks the phone between his cheek and shoulder, opening the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of ginger ale. “If you want character references, just ask her for a copy of her latest resumé,” Mulder says flatly, taking a swig of the soda. “Or call her mother. Hell, you know her priest, right? Ask him. Or skip the middle-man and dial God directly.”

Mark is quiet for a moment. “Oh. I see,” he says softly, and Mulder braces himself. “I suspected this morning, but I wanted to give you both the benefit of the doubt-”

“I don’t want to have this discussion with you,” Mulder cuts in.

“You fucked her, right? Maybe not last night, but it’s happened before, is that correct?”

The doctor’s sudden change of tone and word choice is jarring, and Mulder’s stomach turns over. “Look, Dr. Einolander, it’s late, and I’m not feeling a hundred percent today. I’d prefer to save this frankly offensive discussion for the day we meet in hell.”

He hears Mark intake a breath. “And it’s Mulder, not Fox,” he says, and punches the off button on the phone.

He barely makes it to the bathroom.

Mulder rinses his mouth in the sink, stares absently at his own haggard face in the mirror. Who knew nice, caring, Good-Father Dr. Mark was such a massive tool?

He brushes his teeth and puts on a fresh t-shirt before returning to the couch.

He has to tell Scully, right? He has to. Friends don’t let friends date judgmental douchebags. But he doesn’t want to get involved, he really doesn’t. He’s had reasons for not wanting her to date Mark since day one; tonight’s revelation is almost a gift, but one he feels like garbage accepting. He fears his personal feelings for her are going to skew his judgment in one way or another.

No matter what he does, he’s going to feel like shit.

So he does nothing; just lies on his couch like the coward he is, watching baboons fight over a mango.

#hello yes welcome to the I Hate Mark club #msr #txf fic #xfiles #my fic #fox mulder closet romantic #fmcr #slow burn is slooooowwww

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marchtomydrums · 3 years

Text

Jealousy 11

Alex Cabot X Casey Novak X Reader

*not my picture.*

Alex’s POV:

I make it to the warehouse knowing this is the location. I don't see anyone on the docks so I head to the door. Before I left the penthouse I text Olivia telling her to bring me food. It’s weird I know. However, if Claudia found out someone was following me there was no telling what she'd do. So I left breadcrumbs per se for Olivia to follow. God, I hope she figures it out. Two men are blocking the door, I tell them why I'm here and they walk me in. The warehouse is dark, cold, and wet. I look around to see if I can spot the two of you but I don't see anything.

“Alex, I see you got my note,” Claudia says. I turn around to see her making her way down the stairs.

“Yes, I did. Where are they?” I ask.

“Now. Now. We need to have a chat before that. “ she chuckles.

She makes her way over to me brushing the hair out of my face, her hand coming to cradle my cheek.

Snatching my face back I shout “I'm not fucking around Claudia! Where are they?!”

“I assure you they're fine for now. “

“What does that mean?”

“They will be fine as long as you cooperate. Now when we go into this room, we're going to play a little game. You will play or there will be consequences. Do you understand me?”

I'm still unsure about all of this but I need to make sure the two of you are okay. So I slightly nod my head yes. Claudia leads me up the stairs to a door. She opens it and allows me to enter first and she shuts the door behind me. It's dark, Claudia walks to the middle of the room and pulls the string of the overhead light. My eyes adjust and I see Claudia standing in the middle of the two of you. Both bound to chairs and mouths tapped over. Both moving your chairs to reach for me. I run over but Claudia stops me just short of you. “No Alex we have to play the game,” Claudia said her palm pressing into my chest pushing me backward.

“What game?!” I ask annoyed.

“You remember all those years ago when you said if it came to someone else or Casey you'd always pick Casey?”

“Yes.”

“Well, darling here’s your chance. So we're going to play a nice little game of would you rather. I ask you a question if you don't give me an answer I get to decide. How's that sound?”

“Screw you! Let them go!” I shout.

Claudia calls for the men. They come into the room with a chair and rope. Next thing I know I'm being tied to the chair and I'm in front of the two of you.

“I knew you wouldn't play fair. Nonetheless, let's get started, shall we?” Claudia asked me.

“So Alex would you rather let Casey get the first hit or Y/N?” she asked as her men stood on either side of the two of you ready to do as I say.

I shake my head “neither!”

“Oh, honey. No see that's not how this works. Either you answer or I do.”

Claudia waits for a couple of seconds before she answers for me. “Y/N gets first hit.”

“No!” I scream just in time to see the man's fist connect with your stomach. Tears pouring out of your eyes as he hits you repeatedly.

“Stop! Please stop!” I cry out.

Claudia holds up her hand stopping his assault.

“Next question. Would you rather Casey get hit or Y/N? These hits will be face only so choose wisely.” she asks.

Tears are flowing down my face as I shake my head. “Please. Please. Just hit me. Please.”

“Choose!” Claudia screams.

“I CAN'T!”

“YOU WILL! CHOOSE!”

“CASEY!” I scream. The man beside her starts to wail on her. I can see the tears in her eyes and the blooding falling from her face. I scream begging them to stop. You are kicking and screaming in the chair trying to get to Casey. Finally, Claudia tells him to stop. I see Casey look my way with Swollen eyes.

“I'm sorry baby. I'm so sorry.” I tell her.

“Would you rather Casey or Y/N to get cut?”

I look up at Claudia tears in my eyes.

“I’m not playing this game with you anymore! Let them go. Take me! I’m the one you want! I hurt you not them.”

“Oh honey I know that. But see this hurts you and that’s what I want. Now, which one will it be? Hmm?”

I drop my head praying that Olivia shows up soon. I can’t do this I can’t choose. But Claudia chooses for me anyway. I ran out of time when I heard her call your name. I look up to see the man rip you skirt open. He grabs a knife and slices you from you inner thigh down to your knee. You scream through the tape. Blood gushing down your leg, Casey is screaming through her tap. I beg Claudia to stop to end this. Wrong thing for me to say.

“You want to end this?” She asked me. I nod my head yes. She walks away to the other side of the room. She comes back with a gun in hand.

“Okay, this is how this goes. So one of you will be raped by my friend James here while the other two watch. Then we he’s done my other friend over here will kill whomever you didn’t pick. So you’ll be left with one girl who you let get brutally raped and the other will be dead. How’s that sound? “ she says not really asking me.

“So Alex who will it be?”

I look between the two of you. Both looking back at me. Casey and I locked eyes, having a conversation with no words. I don’t want to choose. I look back at you, and tell you I love you. I look back at Claudia who is waiting patiently for my answer.

“Casey gets raped and Y/N dies. “ I say quietly.

“Wow, so even now you choose Casey. This poor girl loves you and yet you’d let her die.” Claudia questions. I say nothing just looking back at Casey. Claudia sees and stops for a minute. Anger crosses her face as she starts to understand.

“Oh, I get it! You don’t want her to be hurt. You two think she’ll suffer less if she’s just killed. Is that what this is? “ she asked. Again no one said anything.

“Hmm, okay. Boys grab the girl. “

“No! I decided.”

“I don’t care what you decided. “

“Please Claudia!! She had nothing to do with this! Please!!” I scream.

The man unties you from the chair and slam you down on the table. Casey and I are screaming has he rips your clothes off. I’m trying everything to get my hands untied. Claudia watches my face the whole time laughing taking joy in our cries. She tells the man to untape your mouth so I can hear you scream. You scream for me, for Casey. It’s all too much. I can’t do this. I drop my head for a split second. The next thing I know the man that was once on top of you is now lying on the ground.

“NYPD! Hands up now!!” Olivia and Elliot scream with their guns drawn. Elliot and Fin go to handcuff Claudia and the other man standing next to Casey. Olivia unties me and goes to untie Casey. I run to you, Casey not far behind me. Your laying on the table sobbing. I lift your body up so Casey can untie your hands.

“I’m so sorry my love. I’m so sorry.” I sob as I hold you tight. Casey is hugging you from behind all three of us crying.

“Did he rape you? “ Casey asked.

“No” you shook your head “but it was close. Too close.” You tell her.

I look between the two of you, hugging and kissing, and I keep telling both of you over and over how sorry I am.

“It’s okay Alex. It’s not your fault.” You tell me.

“Yeah, clearly the bitch is crazy.” Casey says.

Olivia makes her way over to us telling me EMTs are here to check you and Casey out. The two of you walk together to the ambulance. Olivia looks at me and leans in to hug me.

“I’m glad we showed up when we did.” She tells me.

“I’m glad you knew to follow my trail.” I tell her with a small smile.

“Me too.” She says softly.

She walks me over to the EMT’s so I can be checked out as well. Of course we will all have to go to the hospital so they can take pictures, and clean our wounds. Looks like you’ll need some stitches for the cut on your leg. Overall, we’re all okay. And I can’t wait to get back home.

I look at Casey and she walks straight to me and holds me tight. I kiss her head, her cheeks, her lips. She chuckles and goes in to hug me again.

“Casey, I’m sorry I said your name. I’m sorry I played her stupid game. I wanted her to take me. “ I try to tell her.

Casey shakes her head and shushed me.

“Alex, it’s okay. I understand. We had to play the game either way. I know that was hard for you. I would of rather you pick me than y/n for the rape. She knew that. She knew we were protecting her that’s why Claudia was so pissed. She wasn’t mad because you chose for me to live. She was angry that we would rather y/n die than to go through that kind of pain. She realized that it didn’t have to do with me, that’s not why you didn’t pick her all those years ago. She realized how much you love y/n. That you would rather her die than to go through something so horrific.”

“ I didn’t want you to go through that either.” I tell her.

“I know honey I know. But I couldn’t live with myself however long that may of been if I had let them hurt her like that. “

“I couldn’t either.” I lean back in to hug Casey. We hold each other for a few minutes while we cry. I lean back just enough to kiss her one last time. I take a deep breath and let it out.

“Alright. Let’s go check on our girl.” I say with a smile as we head back over to you.

#fiction #lgbtq #law and order x reader #television #wlw #law and order svu #stephanie march #writing #casey novak x reader #diane neal #poly representation

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lahyene · 4 years

Text

A Hollywood Love Story.

Pairing: young!chris evans x reader

Summary: Making it in Hollywood is hard, and when you run into the up and coming Chris Evans at a party, you can’t help but be a little intrigued by the frat boy vibes he practically emanates. You never knew you’d actually fall in love with him while both of you climb the ladder to the top.

Themes: romance, fluff, alcohol, smoking

Word count: 2208

You’re sitting on the kitchen counter, your crop top barely covering your breasts and your shorts practically the size of underwear. As a girl must dress if she’s trying to make it big in Hollywood, being nothing but an Instagram model. Cigarette in your mouth, you take a drag and let the smoke blow out rather close to the face of the man who’s desperately trying to chat you up right now, but you couldn’t care less as your eyes wander the scene of this house party. You’re here to network, to find connections. If you can’t make this work, you’re going to have to move back home and that’s the last thing you want after being exposed to so much freedom.

You saw him the second you walked into this party. He hasn’t quite made it big yet, but he’s probably the most famous one here. Chris Evans. He’s appeared in a few movies, nothing blockbuster, though he’s very well known for his incredibly handsome features and well defined body. You’re sure the two of you have more in common than one would think, being seen more so for your appearance than your personality or talent. People assume you to be trashy and shallow, but they don’t realize that in this world, you have to come off that way in the beginning. No one’s going to wait around to get to know you or the level of depth you have. It’s all about your looks until you finally make it.

When you last saw him, he was on the couch with a girl on either side of him, taking turns making out with each. You’ve heard he’s quite the party boy, dabbling in drugs and alcohol, and practically drowning in female companionship. You thought he was dating Jessica Biel, but seeing his tongue shoved down this blonde’s throat as his hand snakes up the thigh of the brunette, you figure they’re not as committed or exclusive as they let on.

Quite honestly, you’re not interested in him in terms of networking. He isn’t going to do you any favors, he’s probably in a phase where he needs to look out for himself before anyone else. And you completely understand. It’s what Hollywood does to you-- makes you selfish, desperate, twisted. You know there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, but damn, is it a long tunnel.

You’ve barely even realized the male in front of you is still talking. You’re about to shut him down when you see Chris enter the kitchen, without his little playthings, surprisingly enough. The two of you make eye contact. You don’t even have to try; you can already tell he’s intrigued. You aren’t sure whether that’s flattering or concerning. He seems like he’d be intrigued by a hobo, as long as said hobo were to have a vagina. He walks over to you with a gait of confidence, corner of his lips already tugging upwards. He steps in right next to the man, his presence shutting him up.

“Hey there. Haven’t seen you around here before. What’s your name, beautiful?”

You take another drag as you listen to him, your expression barely changing. This time, you turn your head to blow the smoke out before looking to him again. “Y/N.” You tap the cigarette in the ashtray next to you, arching an eyebrow. “And you’re Chris, if I’m not mistaken? It’s nice to meet you.”

“So you already know who I am.” He states, and you’re almost amused by that arrogant twinkle in his eyes. “It’s very nice to meet you too, Y/N.” The male standing next to him finally speaks up in annoyance, “Excuse me, I was in the middle of a conversation with-”

“It’s not a conversation if only one person is talking.” You cut him off, disposing of the cigarette entirely before handing him your empty cup. “Make yourself useful and toss this out for me, would you?” He scoffs incredulously but takes it, grumbling as he walks away. Chris looks at you with a grin, clucking his tongue. “Damn, baby girl. Ice cold. Not that I can blame you, you looked bored as fuck sitting over here.”

“Were you watching me?” you ask innocently, your voice silky as you gaze up at him. His eyes are gorgeous, you have to give him that. His whole face is, really. As much as you’d love to say that he’s overrated, you can’t. He’s handsome, and he knows it. “A little bit, yeah.” He admits shamelessly, glancing back to the spot where he was sitting on the couch, the area slightly visible from where you are in the kitchen. “Those little kittens over there are great and all, but… I dunno. Something about you is more appealing.” He looks back at you and smirks, continuing, “Probably the fact that everything about your beauty is natural.”

He’s right, but you imagine he probably says this to even the most Botox-ed of Hollywood women.

“Thank you.” You practically purr nonetheless with a small smirk. “Wanna step outside with me for a bit? It’s getting kind of hot in here.”

“Sure. Let me grab us a drink too. What do you want?”

“A beer’s fine, thanks.”

His eyes practically light up, his smirk growing wider. “Oh, yeah? Damn, I’ve never met a girl at one of these parties that drinks beer. Always complaining about how it’s going to make them fat or whatever.”

You shrugged nonchalantly as you slid down from the counter, tapping your lightly toned stomach. “Fast metabolism, I guess. Those fruity cocktails and shit have way too much sugar, I’d probably get less sick if I just drank rubbing alcohol. Beer’s good.”

He laughs and you can tell he’s already impressed. You feel strangely good about this. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll meet you out on the deck.”

____________________

It’s a whirlwind of a romance.

You never thought this would happen to you. You constantly hear about celebrities getting together after knowing each other for ten seconds, getting married after dating for eleven. You’d scoff at the thought. That’s infatuation, not love.

Now as you’re holding Chris’ hand as he uses his other one to shield you from the lights of the paparazzi cameras flashing in your face, you wonder how the hell you got here. Going on dates every week, spending the night at whomever’s place is closest- you’ve even Facetimed his parents a few times, for God’s sake, and you’ve only been dating for three months.

You haven’t told him you love him yet, nor has he told you. You’re not ready for that. He’s clearly still dripping in the residue from his playboy days, and you’ve simply always had a difficult time with… well, emotions.

It’s the main cause behind any arguments you two have. While he still has a very frat boy-esque mentality, he’s also very sensitive to feelings. He’s a romantic at heart; he’s like an open book, and he surprisingly has no problem being vulnerable. You, on the other hand, keep everything bottled up. It’s what you’re used to.

Still, you make it work. You’ve never been in a relationship that feels so serious. Even the arguments only furthermore make it seem real, like you've been dating for years rather than a few months.

The two of you finally approach the gate of the apartment complex, entering as you let out a little breath upon being free from the paparazzi’s clutches. “I don’t know how you deal with this everyday.” You shake your head, barely laughing. “It’s exhausting.” He chuckles and guides you inside, raising a brow. “Well, baby doll, it’s going to be your life pretty soon now that you’ve found yourself an agent- you know that, right?”

You can’t hold back your smile, even though you’ve been strictly telling yourself not to keep your hopes up. “I don’t have one yet, it’s just a meeting. I can’t get too excited!” He scoffs and suddenly grabs your waist, playfully tackling you down onto the couch as you squeal. “Well, I’m going to be excited for you then. C’mon baby, look at you. You’re fucking gorgeous, and you’ve been gaining more and more followers by the second. And the agency reached out to you first to set up a meeting, you didn’t even have to send your headshots in. You know how good of a sign that is?” He playfully starts tickling your sides and you practically shriek in laughter, squirming through your giggles. “Chris!!”

He finally stops and you exhale, breathless but smiling as you reach up and hold his face lightly. “You really think I’ll make it big one day? That I’ll eventually be walking that runway during Paris Fashion Week?”

“Hell yeah I do, cupcake.” He murmurs, leaning down to peck your lips, “And I’m going to be sitting front row at every single fucking show.” You smile, briefly shutting your eyes before opening them again as you trail your fingertips along the stubble of his jawline. “Oh, yeah? What if you forget all about me because you’ll be a big Hollywood star by then? What if you show up front row, sitting next to your girlfriend Megan Fox?” He blinks and laughs deeply, moving his mouth down to kiss at your neck. “Mm… I’d be watching you walk that runway and dump her right then and there to beg for you back, that’s what.” You hum softly in delight as he nibbles on your sensitive skin, his husky voice continuing, “But you know that’s not going to happen, right baby? I can’t imagine doing this whole Hollywood thing without you by my side. You support me so much, and I want to do the same for you. I just… have a really good feeling about this relationship.”

You lightly move his head to look up into his eyes, reading his expression. He looks nothing but genuine.

“Me too.” You whisper, caressing his cheek lightly with your thumb. “I think we’re both gonna make it big one day. And we’ll be doing it together.”

____________________

“He was my first.” You laugh softly as you wipe at your eyes, looking up towards the ceiling of the lavish five star hotel room as if that will stop the tears from returning. “I was only eighteen when we met. Still new to LA, only had a few thousand followers on Instagram. God, why am I crying right now?”

Your friend Taylor hands you a tissue, shaking her head. “It’s okay to cry sometimes, you know. It’s good to have feelings.”

You scoff through the tears, taking the tissue and wiping at your wet eyes. “I just can’t believe everything we’ve gone through. Me becoming an international model, him becoming Captain freakin’ America, adopting a dog together, traveling the world together for his press conferences and my photoshoots, meeting each other’s families…” You sniff, finally letting a tear actually slide down your cheek. “Do you remember when I had to get an appendectomy? And I was so fucking freaked out about the surgery, I had never had one before- but he was there with me the entire time I was recovering. He even told the director of Gifted that he needed a few days off.”

“Yes, Y/N, we remember.” Jasmine sighs, handing you a glass of wine. “Drink up girly, you clearly need it tonight.” Candice raises an eyebrow, questioning, “Hasn’t she drank enough? I think that’s why the crying is happening…”

“And we even talked about having kids together. We just knew we’d make it, you know? That our relationship would last forever. It wasn’t delusional, we knew it.” You sniff, taking the wine nonetheless as you take a sip. “Oh my God, remember when I had that pregnancy scare? And it looked like I’d be having a baby, and I was so nervous to tell him, but when I did he was so fucking ecstatic. Guys, he was so happy. Literally jumping for joy. He told me he wanted nothing more than to have a baby with me, even though we hadn’t planned for one that early.”

“Well, thank God you weren’t actually pregnant,” Meng pipes up, a glass of wine in one hand as she goes to open your closet door with the other. “Because then shopping for this would have been a lot more difficult with a baby bump.” She pulls out the wedding dress, playfully moving it from side to side in front of her body. All the girls immediately laugh, cheering as they raise their glasses. “Hell, yeah! Our girl’s getting married to the love of her life tomorrow!”

You giggle through your tears. Your happy tears, to be exact.

“C’mon, Y/N, stop crying already!” Elsa laughs, shaking your shoulders lightly. “You’re acting like Chris dumped you!” You laugh too, wiping at your eyes. “I can’t help but be a little emotional, okay? God, this is his fault. I never used to be such a crybaby until I met him.” You lift up your glass for another toast as you smile widely. “To the best damn bridesmaids in the world. Thank you for dealing with my sensitive ass during this whole marriage process.”

“Anything for you, soon-to-be Mrs. Evans!”

#chris evans x reader #chris evans fluff #chris evans x you #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #writing

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shadowturtlesstuff · 4 years

Text

you belong with me- thomas

this is thomas’s pov. i like doing both pov (i dont know if you can tell) but there are a few things im working on but enjoy!

“How could-? Are you even hearing yourself speak you fool? No- no. God, you know what I'm done.” I throw my phone on the bed, scaring Sir Issac in the process. I cringe even as I begin pacing back and forth. It was truly absurd, utterly crazy, that William lived in such a world where he would ever consider me being with anyone but Audrey Rose. Whilst we weren’t together per say, it was clear there would be no one else for me. The fact that he had already caused trouble for us once makes this even more irritating. I turn and find Audrey Rose already watching me. Her hair disheveled in a messy bun which tells me she is studying or researching something. I give her what I hope classifies as a smile and watches as she pulls out a familiar notebook, searches for her pen and then writes: Are you okay?

Of course she would ask if I'm okay and not what happened; using our absurd way of talking to each other instead of using the window or even messaging me. I shake my head but smile and make my way towards my window. The wind hits me, sending my hair flying but I embrace the fresh air as I watch her move herself off her bed, cursing at her stiff legs. She has been there most of the day, not moving and lost in her work and music. She curses once more as she hits her elbow on the window sill and she looks truly adorable. “You have a wicked mouth Wadsworth. Did you not learn cursing is unlady-like?” I try to ignore the other thoughts I have of her mouth.

“Fuck you,” she scowls at me. It always makes me smile hearing her curse, she always sounds confident in them somehow, making them seem so real. The first time she swore was the time she failed a science test. Well, not exactly a fail, but she was marked wrong by a substitute teacher who didn't like her so she decided to berate him in front of the whole class, starting with her shouting ‘bullshit!’ as soon as she saw her results.

“I assume dear wadsworth, you want to ask what has made me so irate?” As much as I would rather climb across the gap and make her watch another one of my romance films again instead of talk about it, I know that I should. Otherwise it'll eat at my mind when I go to sleep. As well as it being used against wadsworth in some way too.

“Perhaps,” she says, eyes sparkling with mischief as she rests her head on the wall and brings her knees to her chest, “perhaps I merely wanted to ask if Sir Issac was okay.” I nearly burst out laughing at her. She has a love hate relationship with my cat. She pretends to hate the ‘beast’ but will often let him sit on her lap or pet him whenever she is over here. When I first got him, she stayed round mine for the night and we settled him. Even then she had tried to pretend not to like him but she doesn’t remember that she fell asleep with him curled up next to her. I had to sleep on my chair because they were sprawled out, surrounded by her work.

“Really? You always refer to him as a little pest, whereas as with me, I am your dearest person, of course you want to know how I am feeling. My son is good though, very energetic today.” Said cat brushes against me and I look at him, the memory still clear in my mind. Yet I know I need to stop avoiding the problem, Audrey Rose is too kind to push me into telling her, and will let me avoid it for as long as I need. It is not the worst thing we’ve faced yet I still hate it.

“I assume you saw the call, well that was William,” she nods, her face already falling at the mention of his name, “Yes, awful. Apparently though, there is a rumor that I'm with Miss whitehall. I don't even remember her first name, but he was convinced of our relation despite my protests. Madness.” I scoff at the sheer audacity of him and his friends. Sir Issac nuzzles into me, knowing that I'm upset and wanting to change that. As well get attention.

“Is this the same William that had convinced everyone I was dating him?”

“Yes.” Anger rolls through me at the memory of that disaster. What hurt Audrey Rose the most is that she truly thought he was a friend. She’d explained that with me she didn't try, but everyone else she had too, so when they'd fallen into easy conversations during lessons she really enjoyed having someone other than me and lize and her uncle to talk to.

“Bitch. Why on earth is he such a problem? Where on earth does he even make this assumptions about us?'' She begins pacing, her mind working faster than her steps as she no doubt recalls everything that happened. I am inclined to do the same. I can still remember her walking into her room, looking at me and falling apart. I climbed into her room and held her letting her calm before she spoke to me. I cried as well, slightly, knowing how much that friendship had meant to her. I'd made us watch a really cheesy film and she'd fallen asleep in my arms.

“I have never once,”I say to drag her back to the present “shown interest in her, nor will I ever.” I drag a hand through my hair. “She's just- a lot.” the first time id met her she was just very loud and demanding, I couldn't stand her. I'd watched her insult so many people for being themselves, for liking childish things, or in Audrey Rose's case, morbid things.

“That is the understatement of the year Cresswell. Besides, you wouldn’t work, she's too- your,” she falls silent, either lost in thought or not wanting to tell me those thoughts. Her cheeks turn a light shade of pink and I smile. She doesn't meet my eye as she sits herself down and I raise my brows as she asks what? As though she didn’t just show me that she has many inappropriate thoughts about me. She curls herself into a ball, hiding in her oversized hoodie, which is mine that I'm not sure she realizes is.

“I’m what? I'd be delighted to know your innermost thoughts of me, Wadsworth.”

“You're absurd but fine I'll elaborate,” she rolls her eyes though, even as the pink deepens slightly. Her eyes focused on my own. So I face her fully, like an astute student in class dying to seek knowledge, “you're too kind, too witty and clever and Whitehall wouldn’t appreciate you enough. You-” she stops talking immediately, as though whatever is in her mind she cant voice. Her face twists into something unreadable and I get the sense that she would rather not ever speak about me being with someone other than her.

“You forgot to mention how handsome I look, or how charming I am, but I'll take it,” she suppresses an eye roll and her smile and ignores the way my voice deepens ever so slightly. I pat Sir Issac off me and earn a whine but he jumps off me. I reach out to her and she leans, her hair ripping free of her bun with little effort from the wind. Her dark curls cling to her face, framing her perfectly too. It makes me want to hold her face in her hands and kiss her deeply.

“I don’t need to inflate your ego further Thomas.”

She inflates my ego every time she smiles at me, whether that be because of my joke or simply smiling at me because I am her friend. “I know but it would've been nice. I did say the inner most thoughts but we’ll get there. Audrey rose-I don’t belong with her, you’re right, my heart would never belong to her especially since it already belongs to someone else.”

She blinks at me, her face falling flat. Silence falls over us and I realize she thinks I'm talking about someone else. And idea forms, one that she may hate me for but one I'm going to do anyway.

“I-” she begins, no doubt going to tell me she wants me to be happy without whomever I'm with. I stand before she can say anything and she stares at me for a second so I motion for her to move. I want to be able to hold her and be next to her. I climb over and set myself on her window sill, leaving enough space for her on the other side. “I hope you are happy with whomever has your heart Cresswell.” I try to hide my smirk at her. Preparing myself for the worst. Preparing myself for her calling me an idiot and that she doesn't like me that way. I wouldn’t blame her.

“Of course I'll be happy. She's amazing. Let me tell you all about her. I met her many years back and was instantly smitten with her emerald eyes and her quick witted mind. How she sings to herself every morning and how her dark curls fall across her face whenever she sits on her bed and reads. I adore her curiosity for the dead and how wicked her mouth is and how delightful it is to watch your mind at work. I love when she shows me a note through the window to see if I'm doing okay and-”

“Wait,” she blurts out, her cheeks red now and eyes bright with shock, “Thomas, are you talking about me?”

I can’t help but laugh. She is one of the smartest people I have ever met yet she, just like I do, struggles with social cues sometimes. Albeit it she is better than I will ever be. “Yes, finally! I thought I'd have to keep speaking forever till you realized it was you.” Not that that would be a problem. As of right now I'd happily list the way her eyes are filled with both relief and shock and happiness and it's a look I want to capture whenever I need a reminder of something good in life.

She scowls at me, ignoring her blush. I take a risk and reach out my hand, moving closer so that her back is straightened on the wall, her attention fixed on me completely. No fake scowl or bright smile, just an intent gaze I can't quite pick apart. I rest my hand on her leg, now free of her (my) hoodie. “Wadsworth, darling, I have been in love with you for some time now.”

I stare at my best friend, my love, as she tries to convince herself this is real. It's truly adorable. Then her eyes widen slightly as she whispers: “I have something to show you.”

She jumps from my grip, running the short distance to her bed and then shuffling through the mountain of books and papers sprawled there until she pulls out a notebook and shakes it, letting a piece of paper drop. It's folded and creased a lot, as though it has been opened often. I watch as she faces me and slowly, her face fixed on the sheet as she opens and holds it out to me.

I read the words: I love you.

I love you.

I read them over and over and over, trying to imprint it on my brain. Her delicate handwriting and her confession reaches out to me and I desperately want to reach out to her, hold her against me and press kisses and make her laugh.

Audrey rose takes her seat across from me and I instantly reach out, holding her leg again. Anything to reassure me this is real. “I wrote that the night after you came here the second time.” her voice is soft, her curls once again framing her face as she looks at me, “Something in me clicked that no matter what you'd find a way to comfort me. Not save me, but work alongside me. I wanted to tell you I just couldn't face it. But I needed to acknowledge it. So I wrote it down, and I look at it every time we use the note system; I try to convince myself to show you.” Audrey Rose would never need saving, never want it, yet her words save my own dark heart that she has felt this way for so long, and we have somehow lived alongside each other and been so blinded by our love entwined with fears that it has taken so long to finally acknowledge them.

I debate pinching myself. Only minutes ago was I miserable and upset, yet Audrey Rose has taken her time to cheer me up. Yet even if I had left it as I am fine, even though she knows me better than that, she wouldn't have pressed for answers; would have waited for me to open up. So i lean in and the world stops as we both wait until our lips are pressed together It's a light kiss, one full of promise and wonder. When I lean back we are both smiling so freely my heart feels as though it too is reaching out to hold Audrey rose. We trade kisses, never wanting to leave this loop but I do lean back away from her. I’m already too drunk on her kisses, I need to breathe, to process this so I can remember it. Once my back is against the wall I pull her, twisting so her back is against mine, leaning into my warmth and I rest my head atop hers. Trying to contain my smiles but to no avail. My hand covers hers and as i look down at her i notice she doesn't bother controlling her smile. It is a magnificent sight.

“Now would be a perfect time to tell me how handsome I am, my love.”

let me know if you want to be added to my tag list:

@fangirling-again @kittycat2187 @goatahoan @city-of-fae @the-hoofflepooff @padfoot-sirius-black-blog @purplecreatorhorsewagon @boredbookwormgirl @goddess-of-writing-wars @lovecakeandmore @yikesitsmaddie @loveyatopluto @throneofsc @bookscressworth @ ink-insomnia

#sjtr #hpd #efh #ctd #thomas cresswell #audrey rose wadsworth #wadsworth #cresswell #cressworth #stalking jack the ripper #hunting prince dracula #escaping from houdini #capturing the devil

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embeanwrites · 4 years

Text

Right Here

you are secret cupid for: @lonelinessisadisease / @twinning-the-shit-out-of-you ( @starwarsfandomfests )

Prompts: Romantic or platonic: Gift-giving but someone (or more than one) has never had a gift before, holding hands as an act of rebellion, end-of-war kiss and/or celebration

A/N: I debated pretty heavy if I wanted to do Codywan or the Bad Batch, but I really love CodyWan so much and I never get to write for them, so I hope you like it! Happy Valentines Day!

Obi-Wan stared at the small package sitting on his bed. He was exhausted beyond belief; this last mission had drained him completely. He was thankful for the time off he and the 212th had received. Except there wasn’t enough time for the men to make it back to Coruscant for a break, so they opted to just take a much needed rest on The Negotiator.

Why was there a small package on his bed? For a moment he couldn’t get himself to move his arms to pick up the box. It looked like a gift; it was neatly wrapped in blue in paper with a carefully tied bow on top. Could it be some sort of trap? Who would take that much care to trap him? What is-

“It’s a gift.” Obi-Wan slowly turned around to see Cody leaning against his door. Cody looked equally exhausted as he walked into Obi-Wan’s room. Cody picked up the small box and held it out to Obi-Wan. “I saw it on our last relief mission, and I thought you may like it.” Cody said, suddenly becoming bashful. Obi-Wan smiled wholeheartedly as Cody’s cheeks turned red.

The two had become closer as time went on and even though Obi-Wan hated that the Jedi had become soldiers in a war but knowing and being close to Cody made it all worth it. For a moment Obi-Wan allowed himself to imagine an after the war with Cody. No Jedi order. No Grand Army of the Republic. Just the two of them. Obi-Wan gently took the small box from Cody, their fingers just barely brushing.

“I can’t even remember the last time someone gave me a gift. It would have been before I was taken” Obi-Wan mused, Cody let out a laugh.

“I think General Skywalker counts all the times he’s “helped” us out on the field a gift.”

“Oh yes, Anakin sure does believe he is the forces gift to us all, doesn’t he?” The two shared a laugh as Obi-Wan sat next to Cody. The two fell into a comfortable silence as they both looked at the gift. Cody nudged Obi-Wan with his shoulder.

“Well, are you going to open it?” Cody mused, causing Obi-Wan to frown and look away from the gift and Cody.

“Jedi aren’t supposed to have attachments, emotional or physical…” Obi-Wan sighed and looked at Cody’s honey-colored eyes. “Maybe it’s the war, but I’m beginning to question a lot of their teachings.” He whispered, hoping Cody would catch his meaning.

“The long necks taught us something similar, a lot of the men think it’s bantha fodder and I don’t blame them. We were made to fight a war and that’s it. And when the war is over, then what? Are they going to take us all out? Are we going to just be running drills until the next war?” Cody’s voice started to raise. “Obi-Wan, I don’t want to be considered someone’s property. I don’t want-“

“Cody, you won’t I promise.” Obi-Wan interrupted, stunned for a moment by his promise he had no way to guarantee but regardless, it seemed to calm Cody down for the moment. “Who knows, maybe we’ll both leave our stations after the war.” Obi-Wan pondered, allowing himself one moment of imagining himself and Cody living a simple life. No more politics, no more fighting, no more wondering if this day will be their last. Just the two of them.

“That would be nice.” Cody whispered, emotions catching his voice. Slowly, Obi-Wan began to unwrap the gift. He had to take a few deep breaths to keep himself from unraveling in front of Cody.

Inside the box was a small teacup. The cup itself was made out of some sort of clay that had been painted a faint orange and blue and then had designs carved into the cup. Upon closer inspection Obi-Wan noticed that the design did not seem to be random and in fact there were little lightsaber hilts and clone trooper helmets hidden within the other shapes and squiggles. Obi-Wan didn’t know a lot about ceramic art, but he could tell by the intricate design it had taken whomever a long time.

“The commission price was high, I wanted to get you a whole set, but I didn’t have enough.” Cody whispered, he was nervously fidgeting, believing Obi-Wan didn’t like the gift. It was just one measly teacup, Obi-Wan must’ve had at least 5 aboard The Negotiator alone. Obi-Wan deserved a full set and then some. All the good he did for Cody and the other men under his command. He knew he should’ve gone with something better, he should’ve-

“Cody, I…I’m not sure what to say. This is beautiful.” Obi-Wan breathed out. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the small cup. “Thank you.” Cody smiled and looked at Obi-Wan. He wanted to remember this moment, Obi-Wan’s checks were slightly blushed, his mouth slightly opened in awe, and his eyes had unshed tears. “I…I don’t have anything for you.” He said finally looking over at Cody.

“No worries, General. I have everything I could ever want right here.”

#codywan #obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x cody #commander cody #cc-2224 #secret cupid #star wars #clone wars #i hope you like it!!

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randomoranges · 3 years

Text

sometimes fights happen. the last of the relationship arch and technically the first. would come before Jello and Relationship Status: conjoint you don’t need to have read the others.

Apology [Accepted]

20XX

They’re out and about, Étienne bringing him on his usual whirlwind visit of the city, not wanting him to miss out on anything going on during his time here. It’s been an overall pleasant day and they’ve taken a small break to enjoy a treat on one of the many terasses the city has to offer. They’re sitting close, Étienne having no real notion of what personal space is, and Edward finds he doesn’t mind. It’s nice and he likes that Étienne hasn’t put up his usual guard. His boyfriend has been regaling him with some bodacious tale, when he is interrupted, halfway through, when another person comes up to them.

“Étienne?!” The person says, astounded and surprised to find him here.

Étienne automatically puts some space between them, as if suddenly aware of where he is and Edward watches as his boyfriend’s eyes grow wide and a grin etches itself on his face, “Oh mon Dieu, Malik, allô! Ça fait longtemps!”

There’s the usual exchange of kisses on cheeks and pats on the back, followed by catching up on the latest. Edward watches, from the corner of his eyes, as Étienne once more seems to know everyone he runs into and something starts stirring inside of him that he can’t quite name.

“Aye, scuse, j’avais pas vu qu’t’étais avec quelqu’un.” Malik says and both of them turn towards him and Edward offers a polite smile and wave.

“Oui, c’est mon ami, Édouard, yé-t-en visite pour encore une semaine!” Étienne beams and Edward – Edward stills, that one word ringing and repeating itself over and over and over again as an ugly, long forgotten voice returns to whisper fears in his mind, feeding off the feeling from before.

He tries to ignore it, makes polite chit-chat with Malik until they leave, but the word festers and colours his mood. He remains quiet as Étienne picks up their previous conversation and his mood only sours as the rest of the afternoon progresses.

He thought – he had dared to think that things were different now.

He supposes he’d been very wrong.

Étienne would never change. He isn’t sure why he’s surprised.

Of course, despite everything Étienne had told him – the confessions and the promises and the affirmations – it had meant nothing. They were only words. Étienne didn’t really like him. They were only words to make him feel better. To dupe him into a lie. He was and is just Some Friend. Some idiot Étienne keeps around for when he’s bored. A simple ami. Not a boyfriend. Not even a vulgar chum.

Un ami. A friend. Nothing fucking more.

Étienne probably is ashamed of him. Humours him by having him over. Even now, after all these years. He doesn’t know why he thought otherwise – why he believed Étienne when he’d told him the contrary.

How stupid of him. How utterly naïve.

He deserves this, really. Deserves to be mocked when the signs had all been there, really. Everyone had told him that Étienne only played games. He’d been blind to them is all.

Eventually, Étienne quiets down himself, realising that Edward’s enthusiasm has withered and the rest of the afternoon is a quiet sullen thing. They head back to Étienne’s place afterwards and Étienne lets him be for a moment, while he tends to Mercury and it’s only later, that he goes out of his way to find him and sits beside him.

“Alright, are you going to tell me what’s eating you or are you going to be a miserable old sack for the rest of the evening?” Étienne sounds a little annoyed and Edward thinks it’s a good thing. He wants him to be annoyed. Wants him to stew and be miserable. Just like he feels now.

“It’s fine. It’s nothing you should concern yourself with. I’m just a friend, after all. No one important.”

Étienne gives him a look as though he’s been slapped in the face, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Hell, he even sounds insulted.

Edward sighs, annoyed and frustrated because why would Étienne have the decency of understanding? “I don’t know, you tell me!”

Étienne blinks, clearly confused, “What are you talking about?”

“Can’t believe I have to spell it out for you, but then again, I suppose I also shouldn’t be surprised about this either. After all, you’re the one who dismissed me as your friend earlier, when your friend came to chat you up.”

“You mean Malik? What the hell else was I supposed to call you? Was that too much?” Now, even Étienne sounds annoyed and it’s evident from the way his eyebrows are knit close together and the tightness of his mouth.

“Your boyfriend! Or are you that ashamed of me?!” He finally near yells.

Étienne looks at him, surprised. He remains quiet and simply looks. Edward is a little unnerved, but even more so when Étienne lets out a dark and bitter sounding laugh.

“Oh this is fucking rich coming from you, Murphy.”

“What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me, clearly. How the fuck was I supposed to know I could call you that to others when you’ve spent decades avoiding anyone seeing us even walk down a street together in broad daylight!”

There’s a small voice – very small and very annoying – at the back of his head that tells him Étienne has a point, however Edward ignores it and instead charges on, politeness be damned.

“Well maybe if you had given me some inkling of a sign that you were into me I would have let you!”

“Please, you were so far buried into your closet that even your precious Gretzky coming out and fucking you wouldn’t have been enough.”

He’s aware they’re both going for where it hurts. That they’re using their own deep and buried hurt as a weapon and that they should stop. However, there is something raw that has been unearthed and there seems to be no going back at this point.

“Of course it’s my fucking fault! You’re too perfect and self-centered to have any flaws.”

“What does that have to do with the fact that I didn’t know you were okay with me telling people you’re my boyfriend? You never let me know! You’re still not comfortable with PDA! I was trying to be nice, for Christ’s sake!”

“Yeah, well, it looked more like you were ashamed to be seen in public with me!”

Étienne scoffs loudly and rolls his eyes at him, “Me? Ashamed of you? Please, it’s always felt like the other way around! I’ve been trying to reach out for you for decades. You’re the one who pushed back and would swat my hand away. And I figured, fine, you weren’t out, whatever. So I kept my hands to myself and didn’t say anything. And even now. I don’t know what you’re comfortable with, so excuse me for fucking wanting to give you space and not knowing what the fuck was actually going on in your head.” Étienne makes to get up and most likely get some air, but Edward isn’t done. He’s not letting Étienne walk away.

“What the hell?! You can’t honestly believe I was ashamed of you! Why the fuck else would I keep coming back here to see you?”

“Because I was convenient! An easy escape! You said so yourself! It was easy for you to come here and be whomever. I could have been literally anyone else and it wouldn’t have changed anything.”

Edward wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all and nearly does. “Of course it was convenient,” He starts and cuts Étienne off before he can go on again, “You were-are my friend so it made it easier. But not because of the reasons you believe.”

They both fall quiet and stare at each other, an impasse being more or less reached. Eventually, Étienne runs a hand over his face, after removing his glasses and cleans them off his shirt before putting them back on. He takes a deep breath and then sags a little against the couch.

“So, are you telling me that we both got worked up over some giant misunderstanding and you actually don’t mind me telling people you’re my boyfriend now?” He sounds a little tired, as if this issues has been plaguing his mind for years and Edward feels, for the first time since this whole debacle has started, that they might finally be back on the same page.

“Something like that... And yes, I don’t mind. I should have told you.” He says a little quieter, a little calmer.

“And I should’ve asked.”

They look at each other, hazel meeting green, and it’s a timid understanding that is reached. One formed over embarrassment and apology.

“I think there are still things we need to discuss.” He doesn’t want this to happen again. For as much as he doesn’t mind clearing the air, he also doesn’t want to hurt Étienne.

“You mean there are still issues we’re carrying around that could blow up at any time in some toxic way and threaten the foundation of what we have?” Étienne says, mock surprised as he brings a hand to his chest, feigning shock. Edward lets out a puff of air that forms into a little laugh.

“Yeah, something like that.” He reaches over for Étienne’s hand and gives it a squeeze. “I was never ashamed of you. Honestly and I’m sorry if you thought that.”

Étienne twines their fingers together and if his grip is a little tight, Edward doesn’t mention it.

“I know. Logically, I know that. I guess, hearing you say that woke up some old fear inside of me... an old insecurity. We do need to discuss this. I’m sorry – for what I said and hurting your feelings. I’m not ashamed of you. I’ve never been ashamed of you either.” Étienne tentatively scoots closer and Edward carefully places an arm around him, letting Étienne put his head down on his shoulder. He notices a bit of tension ebb away from Étienne’s face and finally, he feels that this too will come to be solved with time.

FIN

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #fic #projocanondoko

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wistfulcynic · 4 years

Text

melancholy

There’s a post somewhere in the depths of Tumblr (if anyone knows where please post the link) something to the effect of a person who had been suffering through a bout of depression one day started to sing while they were cooking. Their roommate immediately rushed in, overwhelmed with relief because they knew that singing meant the person was feeling better.

This is inspired by that.

melancholy:

August is always a difficult month for Killian. As if the sweltering heat and the mosquitoes and the bittersweet sense of summer waning weren’t bad enough, it’s also the month in which Liam died. Each year Killian grows tense and snappish as the anniversary approaches, both eager for the damned thing to be over and wishing it would never come.

And this year, this one, is the worst yet. This August marks ten years since his brother passed, a fact that first begins to worm its way into Killian’s mind on a soft May day when he should be happy—his own bloody birthday. He’s 29 this year and with thirty now not so much waiting around the corner as looming up directly in his path, he finds himself struck by the realisation of just how painfully young Liam had been when he died. He can’t stop thinking about it as August draws nearer, or of all the things he’s seen and done that Liam—dead before he even saw his quarter-century—never had the chance to try.

He knows himself well enough to be aware of what miserable company he is when these fits of melancholy overtake him, and this being such a long and vicious one he does his best to stay away from Emma as much as he can until it passes. His roommate has enough to deal with, he thinks, she doesn’t need him adding to her burdens. So he keeps to himself, stays in his room with music on his headphones or goes to the bar he knows she hates to brood over a glass of rum. Sometimes he takes long walks late into the night, alone with his thoughts and safely away from the temptation of Emma Swan.

On the day of the anniversary itself he runs into her despite all his efforts. Her skip kept her out later than usual and so it happens that when he returns from the bar, drunk and aching deep in his soul, he finds her not asleep in her bed but in the kitchen making grilled cheese. She gives him a look that’s at once understanding and tentative, oddly yearning and full of sympathy, and he forces a smile to his face but does not speak. She opens her mouth but he shakes his head hard, willing her to understand that there’s no way he can bear her kindness now. If she offers it he will break and he can’t risk that, not with her. She means too much to him and he already wants so many things that she can’t give—there’s no telling what he’ll do or say if he lets his guard down now when he’s so bruised and so needy and so alone.

She nods and swallows and tries to smile, and he retreats to his room feeling worse than ever. He lies in bed with sleep nowhere to be had and he thinks, once again, about Liam. He thinks about how his brother died before he had a chance to see the world as he always wanted. Before he could learn to sail the ships he used to admire in the harbour. Before he could fall in love.

What kind of woman would he have chosen, Killian wonders. Or, perhaps, what kind of man? Either is equally plausible; he truly has no idea how Liam felt about love or sex or romance. It occurs to him that in some ways he hardly knew his brother at all.

He’s certain though that whomever Liam might have chosen to love, he’d have made better go at it than Killian. Better than the married woman that he failed to save, better than the roommate with her mile-high walls who will never love him back. It’s almost like he’s trying to be alone, he thinks bitterly, and to waste every opportunity offered by the life that Liam worked so hard to give him.

His August mood that started in May lingers well past the end of summer, and the air is crisp with the bite of early October when Killian realises that he’s managed to go a whole day without once thinking of Liam. It makes him rather sad again but it’s also a relief; he can’t live his life trapped in grief and guilt and recrimination. And he needs to live that life, and live it as well as he knows how—he owes Liam at least that much.

The following day finds him in the kitchen making fajitas when Emma gets home. He’s in the mood to cook for the first time in ages and he’s making more than enough to share, both because Emma’s been known to have a bowl of cereal of an evening and call it dinner and because Killian figures a nice meal will serve as an apology for how difficult it must have been living with him these past few months.

He’s singing to himself when the front door opens, one of the old sea shanties he grew up hearing, and when Emma appears in the kitchen he gives her an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, love,” he says. “I know the shanties aren’t your favourite, but—urgh.”

Emma strides across the room and flings her arms around him, squeezing him so tightly he grunts. She presses her face against his neck and he feels the warmth of her tears on his skin.

“Thank God,” she whispers. “Thank fucking God.”

“What’s this, Swan?” He hugs her back then pulls slightly away so he can look down at her face. “What’s wrong?”

“When you’re sad you stop singing,” she whispers, as fresh burst of tears begins to flow. “This is the first time you’ve sung in six months. I’m just—” she breaks off on a sob. “I’m so relieved you’re feeling better. I was so worried, Killian.”

He stares at her. “You were worried about me?”

“Of course I was!” She tries to snap but it comes out weak and watery. “I lov—ah—I care about you.”

His breath catches and his heart stutters as she goes rigid in his arms and watches him warily. In times past he’d have convinced himself it was a slip of the tongue and nothing more, but his vow to live his life the best he can is fresh in his mind, and Emma is still holding him so tightly and she’s still crying... crying because he was sad. Because she saw that he was sad. Not that he was a pain in her arse to live with but that deep down he wasn’t well.

She always sees him.

Live, he reminds himself. Take the risk, for Liam who never could.

He brushes the hair back from her face, tear-streaked and gorgeous and full of an apprehension that breaks his heart. “I love you too, Emma,” he says softly.

Her mouth falls open. “You do?” she gasps.

“Aye. Very much.”

“Oh, Killian.” She squeezes him again and he lets her, cradling her head as she weeps freely into his shoulder, letting his fingers tangle in her hair as they have longed to do for years now.

“I’m so sorry for worrying you, love,” he murmurs. “I never dreamed you’d notice.”

“Of course I noticed,” she retorts, pulling back to dry her cheeks on the sleeve of her sweater. “I know it’s ten been ten years since Liam died and I knew how much that would upset you. I wanted to help, but—”

“But I didn’t let you,” he finishes, shaking his head. “I’ve been a bloody fool. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course I can. So long as you promise me one thing.”

“Anything, darling.”

“The next time you feel that way, don’t try to handle it alone. If you don’t want to talk to me there are counsellors—”

“You’ll do, Swan,” he assures her. “And I promise.”

She nods, her smile brilliant with relief, light with lifted worry. “I’m always here for you, Killian,” she says. “To listen or hold your hand or anything else you need.” She takes a deep breath. “Because I love you.”

Something settles in Killian’s chest, something that feels terrifyingly like happiness. He cups Emma’s face in his hands and kisses her, a gentle, clinging kiss that she stands on her toes to return, and for the first time in ten years Killian Jones knows that he is not alone.

#cs fic #cs ficlet #cs ff #cs ff au #cw: depression #captain swan #profdanglaisstuff

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nicolewoo · 4 years

Text

Please Daddy

Pairing: Joe Anaoi X Reader (Roman Reigns X Reader)

Warning: SMUT SMUT SMUT, SPANKING, SMUT SMUT SMUT

Scenario: High priced lawyer Y/N comes back after a 6 month out of town job, and finds a new face at her sex club.

Notes: Listen, it’s up to you, but I pictured Henry Cavill as the “Henry” in the story. Picture whomever you want, but it’s really nice to have Henry Cavill. It’s also hella long. 5,041 words. That’s either too long, or enough to really draw you into the story. lol

Here it is..... enjoy!

Y/N’s POV:

I was relaxed and calm. Being at my club for the first time in months was doing me good. Months of pent up stress and anxiety had been building inside me, and I wanted nothing more than to be around my friends who knew all about me and not only accepted me for who I am, but they shared my interests.

Truthfully though I did want more. I wanted a Dom. A night of wild crazy passion where I could just let go, and trust someone else to take charge. I needed that. I needed a release. I needed a new Dom, and this was the place to find him.

Suddenly the mood shifted in the room. My back was to the door, so I couldn’t tell why, but as soon as I turned to see what was happening, I understood. He was tall, over 6 feet, and dark, and muscled, and his demeanor screamed dominance. I couldn’t tell if he was Italian or Samoan, but looks like that were rare, and I was sure he was one or the other. I drank in his size, his long black hair tied into a tight bun, the fit of his pants over those thick thighs, and the way his muscles almost bulged out of his tight black shirt.

“Who is that?” I asked without moving my eyes off him.

My friend Meredith commented with a chuckle. “Where have you been? That’s only the hottest, richest, nicest, sexiest....” she sighed as she mentally undressed him with her eyes.

“Ok. But who is he?” I asked.

“Oh, that’s Joe. Comes here every week on Mondays at 8 pm like clockwork. He drinks, does business deals, chats but NEVER chooses a sub, and trust me, most of us have tried.” Anna said.

“Never?” I was shocked. The girls who were members here were beautiful, well educated, smart, charming, the cream of the crop... why wouldn’t he choose a sub?

“Not one.” Anna said just as he looked up from his conversation and his eyes scanned the room, landing on me. His eyes locked on mine and a slight smile (or was it a smirk?) played on his lips. He stared longer than was comfortable, and I could see the dominant in him.

My inner sub melted, screaming inside that she wanted him to be Daddy. I tried reminding myself that he’d never chosen a sub. Never, and tonight wouldn’t be any different, and yet, he kept looking at me, and his eyes were like magnets. I couldn’t look away from him. I was frozen in place, under the control of his gaze.

The other young women at my table were shocked into silence for a minute. Meredith said, “Looks like that streak might end tonight.” All of them laughed.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Joe’s POV:

When I asked the bartender about her, he smiled big. He told me her name was Y/N, but when I asked who trained her, he sent me to talk to Henry.

I found Henry playing poker in a game room with a beautiful brunette kneeling on the floor beside him. He ran his hand dismissively over her hair while he scanned his cards. When I opened the door, Henry looked up. “Joe! Want to lose a little coin?” He gestured to an empty chair.

“No. I was actually wondering if I could get a few minutes with you.”

Henry obliged and players joked about protecting their chips as they got up. He led me to a bar on the other side of the room, placing his hand on my shoulder blade and turning our backs toward the rest of the room. “What can I help you with?”

“I was told you were the guy who could answer some questions about Y/N.”

The look on Henry’s face changed as he dramatically clutched his chest while turning toward the others in the room and said, “Gentlemen! He wounds me!” The other men smiled and chuckled, but I wasn’t sure if they were laughing about Y/N or about Henry’s little Shakespearian act. “He hath asked of the fair maiden Y/N.” Suddenly he smiled, checked his watch and called out “Who had 915? Oh! Yeah! That was me! Pay up!” He held his hand out as every man in the room laid a $20 bill in his hand. “Now give us some privacy.” He led me to a large side room which was filled with books floor to ceiling and various chairs and couches around. “Forgive my dramatics. She’s the one that got away. How can I help you?”

“What was the bet about?” I asked.

“How long it would take you to ask about her.” He smiled devilishly.

I ignored the answer. “Did you train her?” I asked.

Henry put a hand in his pocket, “No. She was trained when she got here about 5 years ago.” He mused. “I never found out who trained her. In fact, that was one of her hard limits.”

“But she was your sub?” I prodded.

Henry opened a humidor and pulled out a cigar. He offered me one, but I declined. “Yes.” It was obvious he was recalling good times. “For a year,” he looked and saw my apprehension. “Don’t worry though. Our time together ended 2 years ago, and then I met Ann. We’re extremely happy together.”

“What can you tell me about Y/N? Should I pursue her?”

He smiled at me as he pondered the question. “Yes. I actually think you could be a perfect match for her. She is incredible. Beautiful, smart, kind, successful, driven. She’s damn near perfect.”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “If she was so perfect, why did the relationship end?”

He smiled at me, “We wanted different things for the future. She wants children, and I don’t.” He sounded okay with the decision.

“Ah. I see.”

“She’s a delightful sub. Well behaved, very attentive, very responsive, knows when to be bratty and when not to. She can’t take much pain though, and she doesn’t like humiliation. I suspect the answer to why is tied in with whoever trained her. If those things don’t bother you, she’s really the sweetest.” He looked to see if I understood.

I gave a knowing nod. We’d all heard about nightmare doms but didn’t allow such behavior in our club.

“One more thing. Her career is very important to her. She works long hours, often out of town, and nothing gets between her and work. you’ll have to be flexible about her time, because quite honestly, she’s one of the best attorneys in the country.” He rose and extended his hand to shake, and I grabbed it firmly. “You two will be great together, and you’re the only person I’ve said that to.”

An attorney? One of the best in the country? “You’re assuming she’ll say yes.” I pointed out as we left the room.

He scanned the main room and found Y/N. She was looking at me. “I know that look.” He patted my shoulder blade. “It seduced me on many occasions, my friend.” I knew what he meant. That slight smile, the upturn of her lips, the way she squirmed when I locked eyes in her. It was a seduction. “Let’s go introduce you two.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Y/N POV

His stare was melting me, and even though I was looking intently at him, it took me a second to realize Henry was with Joe and they were headed my way. Henry approved? That’s the only conclusion I could come to. Somehow Joe knew about Henry and me and approached Henry to ask about me.

I stood when they neared the table and I heard my friends begin to talk excitedly behind me as they got up and moved to another table. “Hi beautiful.” Henry said as he greeted me with a hug. “How was your trip? You look amazing. Got a little tan?” He kissed both of my cheeks.

“Henry. Good to see you. I got a little beach time in.” I smiled, but every nerve in my body was on edge, and I didn’t want to spend time making small talk.

“Let me guess. You read briefing memos on the beach.” He joked.

“How did you know?” I laughed and then looked at Joe. My head tilted down very subtly as a show of my willingness to submit to him.

“Babe, you’ve caught Joe’s eye. He started here right after you left for Florida. I’ve been very impressed with him.” Henry put his hand on Joe’s shoulder and pushed him a step toward me.

Impressed was not a word Henry took lightly, and I knew the full implications of his words. I nodded at Henry. “Ok. I’ll be here for a while if you need me.” He pressed a nice kiss on my cheek and walked away.

“Hi.” Joe looked down at me sweetly. Being this close, I realized he towered over me by almost a foot, and his body looked roughly the size of 2 of me. Couple that with the protective stance and my core clenched with desire.

“Hello,” I said looking up into his eyes defiantly knowing he expected me to look down. The corner of his mouth twitched up in a smirk for the briefest second as he looked at me.

“Henry tells me you’ve been out of town. For work?” He pressed.

I leaned against the table now. “Yes.” I knew he wanted more information. I mused at just how easily my inner brat came out for him.

He wasn’t even hiding his smirk now, “You’re a lawyer? Henry says a good one at that.”

“I am a lawyer.” I said, again not giving him any more information than he asked for. I was making him work a bit at getting to know me.

He placed his hand next to me on the table and loomed in front of me very closely now. Dang! His low voice was distracting. “What do you specialize in?” He inquired.

I was drawn to this man like nobody before, not even Henry. His demeanor, his tone of voice, his incredible aroma… My natural submissive tendencies kicked in, and I couldn’t help looking down. I hoped it would break the spell he was casting over me, but it didn’t work. The second I looked down, he stood taller, prouder. He already had me under his control, and judging by his stance, I think he was enjoying it as much as me. “It’s boring. You wouldn’t want to hear.”

He leaned in close to my ear, and the delightful low timber of his voice took on a hint of dominant anger. “Don’t tell me what I want. I tell you what I want.”

Fuck me. I was done for. I didn’t even think about it, I just answered, “Yes Sir.”

He took a deep breath in. “Good.” He moved away a bit and offered me his hand. “Let’s talk.” He sat down at my table and signaled the bar tender to bring another round of drinks while he pulled me into the chair next to him. I looked to find Henry engaged in conversation, but he was keeping tabs on my interaction with Joe.

“Now,” Joe said. “Tell me about your career. What do you specialize in?” He was even dominant in the way he sat. Strong, carefree, but never relinquishing control of me.

“I… uh… I’m a defense attorney.” I tried to get back some of the brat that was having so much fun before, but she was in hiding.

We sat in silence as the bartender brought our drinks. Joe just stared at me. Not shyly, not nicely, but lustfully, and my body ached for him so much, I couldn’t sit still. When the bartender left, Joe leaned toward me. “There’s no need to be scared of me.”

I looked into his eyes now. “I’m… I’m not scared. It’s anticipation.”

He squinted his eyes a bit as if trying to size me up. “You’re not scared, but you keep stuttering.” He took a sip of his drink before continuing. “I’m surprised that one of the best lawyers in the country gets easily tongue tied.”

Of course, he was right. I was always unflappable… except with Henry and now Joe. His eyes challenged me, and mine challenged him back. “I’m simply not in lawyer mode tonight. It’s my day off.” The tone of my voice held the slightest bit of challenge toward him, and he flat out smiled when he heard it.

“Good to know.” He chuckled.

We stayed and talked about my job, his job as a CFO at an engineering company. We talked about morals, ethics, lifestyle and more. We laughed and teased and joked. Each minute spent talking made me want him more.

After a while he said, “I’d like to be alone with you. Do you trust me?” His steely gaze was melting me, and I nodded yes at the same time I looked over to see Henry. “Come with me.” He stood, offered me his hand, and pulled me to a standing position right in front of him, close enough that I could feel the heat coming off his chest. He hovered over me for a minute. No words, just pure dominance, and I loved it.

Joe’s first stop was at Henry’s table. I expected a conversation, but instead the two shook hands. Henry couldn’t resist saying “Joe, if you hurt her…” as he sat back down. Joe nodded that he understood.

When we got to his room, he kept the door open and brought me over to a desk. He opened a drawer and pulled out one of the two stacks of papers inside and a pen. There was nothing else in the drawer, and I realized, there wasn’t much of anything in the room. A bed, bench, and dresser. It was much different than Henry’s room, which had a much more lived in feel…. At least to me it seemed lived in, comfortable, home. This room had nothing in it to personalize the room. I wondered if he’d even used the room and remembering that my friends said he’d ever had a sub, I assumed he hadn’t. He’d probably come in to set it up, and probably hadn’t been back in here.

“I’d like to test how much chemistry we have. This,” He tapped the documents in front of him, “is a one-night contract. I scanned the paper quickly. “This says that anything done tonight must be consented to by both parties.”

I leveled him with a gaze. “Joe? I wrote it.” I wasn’t sure if I sounded bratty, but it was the truth. He just smiled.

“Of course.” He laughed at himself. “I should have known.”

Once we had both signed, he took my hand and brought me to the center of the room. “Stay here,” he said as he closed and locked the door. He turned to me, surveying me with his eyes. “Tonight, I want you to show me how I make you feel. Every noise, every moan, every sigh, every scream. Don’t hold out on me. It’s important we find out if we’re compatible tonight, because I really want you to be my sub.” I nodded yes as he slowly approached me, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt. “You are very beautiful.” His voice was so low, it was almost a growl, and he stood so close to me I could feel the heat coming off his body as he slowly circled me, drinking in every inch of me. Once behind me, he leaned in, so his mouth was close to my ear. “Can I kiss you?” When I felt his breath on my ear, my head lolled to the side instinctively and I sighed.

I moaned out a yes, and his lips brushed against my ear lobe then lower on my neck, and around to the side. My body responded to him in every way. “Can I touch you?” he asked, and I moaned out another yes. He brushed the tips of his fingers down my arm so carefully he barely touched the skin. Goosebumps formed on my arm, and I felt his smile as he kissed my neck again. “That’s very good.”

He ran his hand up my arm and ghosted his fingers over my collar bone. He kissed my neck again, and I felt his fingers ghost over my side like he had my arm. It was pure, delightful torture. I wanted him. Everything in my body wanted him. Everything in my mind wanted him. He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me roughly against his chest and grinding his cock against my ass eliciting a moan from me. His free arm wrapped around my throat gently pushing on my pulse points. “Do you like to be strangled?” Geesh, the tone of his voice made my core clench.

“Yes sir.” I said demurely.

“Very good.” He said as his hands ghosted across my collar bone again and then lower and lower until he was near my nipples. I expected his fingers to find my nipples and tease them, but instead, his hand went to the back of my dress agonizingly slowly pulling the zipper down. He pulled the fabric away from my shoulder enough to see my bra strap. “Black lace? Perfect.” His lips lowered to my shoulder and he kissed a trail from my bra strap to the back of my neck. I moaned in delight and expected him to remove the dress. Instead, he pulled the material back up on my shoulder and he circled me until I was face to face with him.

He slowly unbuttoned the front of his shirt. Immediately, my eye spotted the tattoo that started at his chest circling his entire pectoral muscle in bold patterns. Then I knew, he was indeed Samoan. He slid his shirt off, revealing his incredibly tanned toned chest and my eyes drank in the whole tattoo, which went all the way down his arm and around to his back.

“May I touch you?” I asked, and he pondered for a second before nodding yes. Tentatively, I reached out to touch the tattoo, and I circled around to his back to see the rest, my fingers idly tracing the intricate patterns on his arm, back, chest. He moaned at the touch.

As I made my way around him, he hooked his fingers in the collar of my dress and pulled it down slowly, drinking in every inch of my body as he removed it. “Go hang this up.” He handed me the dress and pointed to a closet. I did as asked and he followed me to hang his shirt up.

He took my hand and brought it up to kiss the knuckles. “Come here.” He led me to the couch, and he sat, pulling me down to straddle his lap. He eyed me hungrily as I lowered myself onto his lap. “Baby, you’re so responsive to me.” He slid his fingers up my side as he leaned in to kiss my neck. Again, my body clenched as he kissed my collar bone and circled my waist with his arm, roughly pulling me until I was pressed against him. He kissed my lips now, softly but urgently, sliding his tongue in and devouring me. I could feel his rock-hard dick against my groin, and when he involuntarily bucked, I cried out with need. “You want this?” He asked bucking again.

I realized I was panting with desire now. “Yes, Sir.”

He ran his hand down my back, gently squeezing my ass. “Daddy. I prefer daddy, and you’ll be my baby girl.” He kissed me passionately, and my body melted against his. I moaned in his mouth and ground my pussy against his dick. “You need a daddy bad, don’t you?” He smiled as we kissed again.

“Yes daddy.” I buried my head in his neck, and kissed it gently then let my tongue roam over his veins before sucking on a spot for a second.

He ran his hands back up my back and grabbed a handful of my hair. “How long has it been since you had a daddy?”

He pulled my head back and attacked my neck with his mouth. “Daddy…” I cried out in need.

“Answer me, baby girl.”

I tried to clear my head, but I was lost in a daze of desire. “Two years.” I managed to squeak out.

He hummed, “Two years? So, Henry was your last daddy?” I nodded my head as much as I could. “Did you have vanilla sex, or have you been alone all this time?”

“Alone,” I moaned out.

“I’m here now, baby girl. Daddy is going to take good care of you.” He kissed me passionately as his hands drifted smoothly from my knees up my thighs, nearing where I needed them the most. I squirmed in his lap. “Daddy is going to take care of everything.” Suddenly he wrapped his arms around my ass, stood up while carrying me and laid me down on the bed. “Are you ready?”

Ready? I was about to explode, and he’d barely even touched me. His eyes drank in my body as he gently caressed my legs. He laid down beside me and caressed my stomach before sliding his hand up and slipping a finger under my bra strap. “May I?” I nodded excitedly, and he smiled as he pulled down the strap, kissing my skin as it was bared, until finally taking my nipple in his mouth. I moaned again as his tongue teased my nipple. He slid his hand behind me and unclasped my bra, tossing it on the floor beside the bed.

His hand slid down my body and into my underwear. I cried out in joy when his finger found my clit, softly circling it around. How could this giant of a man touch me so gently? I could feel him trying different pressures and styles before quickly settling on the pressure that elicited a moan from me. “Is that it, baby girl? Is that how you like to be touched?” I couldn’t answer. I cried out in joy and was getting close to exploding when he stopped his fingers. He left them there, not moving as he sucked my nipple.

I squirmed with desire. “Please Daddy!” I hadn’t meant to yell, but I did. He was torturing me with desire.

He smiled and looked into my eyes, smiling. “Ok baby girl. I won’t make you wait any longer.” He slid his fingers lower, easily sliding one inside me. “Look how wet you are for me. Good girl.”

My head snapped up and away from his mouth when he slid a second finger inside me and curled them to brush against my G-spot. He growled as he heard me cry out. He kept talking, but I couldn’t focus on his words. He was praising me, telling me how good I was being, telling me how much he wanted to fuck me. I completely lost myself, and I fell quickly over the edge, cumming with a violent cry. He kissed me, covering up my cry. “There you go. You’re doing so well, baby girl. So fucking tight.” He continued to croon at me. The edge in his voice telling me how I was turning him on.

Once my orgasm was over, he removed his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth and tasting my juices. His contented hum told me all I needed to know. He kissed my collar bone before slowly trailing kisses down my body.

“Nooooo.” I grabbed at his arms, trying to get him to stop. “I want to please you,” I begged.

He slipped his fingers in the sides of my underwear and pulled them down slowly. “Please don’t tell me you don’t like oral sex.” He almost begged.

“No…. I mean yes…. I love oral sex. I just,” He slid his hands up my thighs, pressing his thumbs softly against my slit and massaging. “I want to please you.”

“Trust me, you ARE pleasing me.” He licked his tongue over my slit and I groaned in delight. “Can I?” he asked.

“Yes.” I cried out, and he dove into me, licking sucking, massaging. When he pushed his fingers into me while flicking my clit with his tongue, I came again.

He was all smiles as he kissed a path up my body, “You did so good, baby girl.” He ran his hand over my hair. “So good for Daddy.” He kissed me softly, sweetly until he was sure I was done cumming.

“I NEED your dick, Daddy.” I moaned in between kisses.

He grinned ear to ear, “Ok baby. Where do you want it?” he asked.

“Everywhere.” I laughed, and he laughed too. He got off the bed and started to unbutton his pants. “May I?” I asked as I grabbed his hands and began undressing him. He moaned his approval. I disrobed him quickly and climbed onto the floor in front of him staring at his hard cock as I took it in my hands, stroking him softly. His moan told me he loved it. I opened my mouth wide, stuck out my tongue and peeked up at him, willing him to fuck my mouth.

I didn’t even have to ask, he pushed his cock in my mouth slowly, carefully until he had filled my mouth and part of my throat. I moaned in delight, and he groaned out an approving noise. “Good…” He tried to talk but I sucked hard until he couldn’t. He ran a hand through my hair as he watched me swallow his cock. He gathered my hair in a ponytail in one of his hands and pulled my head back. “Take it.” He said calmly as he pushed my head onto his cock again. I choked as my fingers ran up his legs, settling and caressing his balls. “Fuck!”

After a couple of minutes, he pulled me off him. “What?” I looked up at him for a reason.

He smiled down at me, “You are excellent, baby girl, but that’s not how I’m going to cum today.” He held one hand out to help me up as the other hand held my hair, ensuring I couldn’t fight against him. “Bend over.” He commanded when I was standing. I did as he asked and bent over the edge of the bed, wiggling my hips a tiny bit as he watched me.

He ran his hand over my ass and across my slit, sliding a finger inside me playfully before grabbing my hips in one hand and his dick in another. He slid his foot between my ankles and pressed out until my feet parted. “More!” He commanded. “Spread them more.” I obeyed and put my feet as far apart as I could without losing my balance. He pressed his dick right up to my slit. “Can I?”

I wasn’t even done saying yes when he pushed inside me in one long stroke. I screamed in joy and he moaned too. “So tight,” he growled out. “So fucking tight.”

I tried to moan, sigh, anything. He wanted to hear me, but I couldn’t make a noise. He leaned over my back and kissed my shoulder blade. “You ok?” I nodded.

“Y… Yes.” I sighed out.

“Ready for more?” He chuckled at my enthusiasm.

I groaned, “Daddy, please!”

He started fucking me, slowly at first and building faster and harder with every thrust. His hands grabbed my hips, fingers digging in until I could feel his fingernails pushing at the skin. He pulled me back onto him over and over, bottoming out with each thrust. His huge cock filled me completely. He released one of my hips and slapped my ass hard. I came quickly, crying out. “Good girl.” Joe slowed his thrusts. “Good girl.” He soothed.

He flipped me on my back and pulled my legs up over his shoulders. He was so deep. Impossibly deep. Almost as painful as it was pleasurable. He fucked me until I came again. Then he came with a wild growl, stilling inside me.

We were both out of breath, and he flopped on the bed next to me, pulling me onto his shoulder. He kissed my forehead softly and ran his fingers over my arms and back. We laid there for a few minutes before he got up, scooped me into his arms bridal style and took me to the bathroom. He set me on the counter as he started the shower. He came back and pulled my legs apart so he could hold me tight against him. He kissed my forehead again. He was being so soft, so careful with me. “I’m going to give you a moment to go pee. Do you need help standing? He asked, and I smiled at him.

“No. I can handle it.” I teased, but in truth, I wasn’t sure.

He kissed my lips softly, “Ok. I’ll come back when you close the shower door.”

My legs were wobbly, but I was able to do as he requested. I peed and climbed into the shower. As promised he came back and climbed into the shower with me. He came behind me, kissing my shoulder and neck as we let the water run over me. He hummed a sound of contentment as he grabbed the soap and began washing me, focusing a lot of time washing my oversensitive parts.

When he was done, he wrapped me in a huge, fluffy towel. “We’ll need to get you a robe, and whatever shower things you want, shampoo and such,” He paused as if realizing something. “That is…. If you intend to sign a contract.”

“Yes” I said it before he finished the sentence. He chuckled lowly at my enthusiasm.

Please Daddy Part 2

Please Daddy Part 3

@mindofasagittaruis @lclb13

#joe anaoi #roman reigns

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chinatea · 4 years

Text

Jikook Sexy Alien AU Part 1

Personas are a product of @satellite-jeon ‘s beautiful mind.

This is WIP and still pretty drafty, and I’ll be posting new parts to tumbler as I finish them. I’m planning 4-5 parts overall.

For my best girl @kmheart <3333 Thank you for loving this mess. <333

Warnings: Coarse language.

Jungkook doesn’t know exactly when his life took a dive from awesome to downright shitty.

And even if he did, he wouldn’t be telling that story any time soon ‘cause no one gives a rat’s arse about good ol’ boy Jungkook who scrubs pools for a living.

It didn’t start that way. In high school, he was a local superstar. The golden jock. The whole fucking trope, baby. With titties of all caliber following him everywhere. Boy did love him some pussy. Dicks, too. He loved everything to do with sex, drugs and rock’n’roll.

He believed himself invincible and it was only a matter of time before he mingled with the wrong crowd. Only back then, he thought of them as friends. His bros for life.

Well.

Now, he cleans pools - the only kind of gig he can scrounge up nowadays, what with a criminal record and whatnot - and trusts no bro.

And when he’s not cleaning pools, he’s stuck at the garage being bossed around by a dirtbag who happens to be his uncle. His uncle, Sunmu, hates his guts - one of those stupid homophobic fucks who can’t mind their own fucking business. Needless to say, no love lost.

As much as Jungkook wants to punch his stupid teeth out - what’s left of them anyhow - he needs the money and it’s not like his uncle can do much more than run his smelly farthole of a mouth. Which he does. At lengths. The dude just never shuts up. Until one day, Jungkook made him shut up - even his golden-boy patience has its limits. And the dude blew up, called the police, the neighbors came a-running, the whole nine yards.

One hell of a shitshow, that night.

So now, Jungkook has taken to bringing guys to fuck in his garage instead. Totally intentional. He knows the geezer, like the sick fuck he is, had cameras installed all over for his own perverse pleasure. So Jungkook lets him enjoy it while he can.

‘Cause once the summer ends, Jungkook will burn down his fucking shack and hit the road, because he’s this close to being done with the shitfucks that are hell bent on ruining his life.

Another day. Another mindless grind.

Luckily for him, the client has vacated the house for the day, leaving their big pool in his capable hands. A much welcome break from those rich fucks being all smug and pissy and all up in his grill about every little nothing.

Rich tits always think they know everything.

Not to mention their shitty kids running around, destroying his equipment and yapping his ear off. Or worse yet, their old haggy wives flashing their saggy tits at him - goodness gracious, does his face say he’s into wrinkled-ass pussy or something?

He thinks the fuck not.

Jungkook plops down on a deck chair and pops a can of coke open, taking a long chug. When he doesn’t have people looming over his ass, he prefers taking things slow. At his own pace. That’s what he’s all about.

As much as he could wrap things up faster and call it a day, he’s not looking forward to trudging back to the garage. Sunmu the dipshit would be there, of course, nagging at him with this shit or that and he’d rather chill out here - the house is off-limits, locked tight, but the scenery is gorgeous. The house sits on a cliff, with the pool area overlooking the city below.

It’s private and quiet and damn therapeutic. Like, he could just close his eyes and pretend it’s all his. That he’s not a broke-ass dude about to keel over any day now, but someone who is in control of his life.

And he does just that. Closes his eyes and leans back, cradling the coke to his chest like one does a lover.

Mind blank of any thought.

The sky above crackles in warning, too close for comfort. And it wakes up goosebumps along his skin as he jostles awake from his little moment of inner peace. His hands flap around, knocking his coke over - it drips all over his tank top.

Nice, Jungkook thinks.

Of-fucking-course, it must rain today of all days. He scrambles up to his feet, ready to start hauling all the gear back into his truck when IT happens.

At first, he is not even sure what IT even is. One moment, he’s one grouchy mess, spewing dozens of profanities at no one in particular while tugging at his stained top in a retarded attempt to shake the mess off. And the next-

Something, fairly massive and spherical, materializes a few inches above the pool before plunging into water like a dead weight. Jungkook can only manage an undignified squawk before the impact wave sends him flying into the thorny shrubs framing the pool.

Mother-fucker.

When he drags his ass back from the shrubs, drenched from head to toe and covered in scratches, all he knows is that his stained shirt is the least of his problems now, because this…

What the fuck is this? he thinks, staring agog at the offender, hogging the pool now.

It looks like…something.

Maybe a futuristic car or a flying vessel of some sort. He has no clue, really. What it is or where it came from, but it’s here, right in his face, obstructing his work. Like a bastard.

He’ll have to call up a tow truck or something to pluck this sucker out, which will take forever and there go his plans for Friday night out.

Jungkook walks around the pool, inspecting the strange contraption from all sides. It’s slick and round and very, very chrome. Perhaps - a submarine. Some ultra-slick technology with masking abilities. Which apparently can fly, but not very well, otherwise, how the fuck it’d ended up stuck in his pool.

Those rich fucks and their stupid malfunctioning toys, eh.

Jungkook sighs and kicks the empty coke can lying about. It flies off towards the pod, ricocheting right off its shiny cask with a sharp clank. And now he has even more trash to dredge up from the puddle bellow. What joy.

As he is about to roll over and wail in self-pity, the pod wakes up with a tremor, sending shallow ripples over the water. Jungkook freezes, frantically thinking over his choices - his gut reaction is to hightail the fuck out of here, because the thing is starting to show signs of life and it doesn’t sit well with Jungkook, not one bit.

He better scram and scram fast. Fuck the money and his uncle - especially his uncle - no one told him scrubbing pools involved close encounters of the third kind.

He makes to do just that but doesn’t make it too far as he bumps into someone, loosing his balance and sending them both to the ground. With a groan, he opens his eyes to stare at the unfortunate soul who had to bear the brunt of the fall on their- his.

It’s definitely a he. A he so stunning Jungkook’s jaw goes slack and his brain radio-silent. Meanwhile, the he doesn’t waste any time making the most of their proximity as he slithers his hands around Jungkook’s neck and presses against him in a soft sweet kiss.

A supernova goes off at the back of his skull.

It was awesome.

“Hello,” the other says, a quality to his voice that is out of this world. He must be out of this world, because how?

“I’m Jimin.”

“Hi,” Jungkook says.

A dumb grin takes over his face.

He’s tingly all over. He thinks he’s in love.

“You’re gorgeous, Jimin-ah. Will you marry me?”

“Marry?” Jimin says tentatively as if testing the word on his tongue. His lips are pretty and full, forming a perpetual pout. It’s adorable. “I can’t marry. I need to mate.”

“Oh.” That throws Jungkook for a loop, as his heart swells with emotion. “Mate who?”

“You,” Jimin smiles. “Serendipity has chosen you as the most suitable candidate within this quadrant of our galaxy. We’re compatible.”

“Wow,” Jungkook whispers. He understands jack shit, but it does feel like serendipity, doesn't it. Just a moment ago, he was one miserable son of a bitch and now…he’s the luckiest son of a bitch in the whole fucking quadrant of their galaxy.

“You do know I’m scrubbing pools for a living, right?”

He props himself up on his hands, hovering over the gorgeous Jimin and eyeing him like a candy on a stick. Jimin has pretty dainty hands. They are always in motion, feelings up Jungkook’s arm muscles, bulging all prettily just for him - this shameless little minx.

“I know everything about you,” Jimin says, his voice washing over Jungkook’s mind like a gentle summer tide.

Turns his brain all mush-mush.

“Every second of your waking moment. Every dream, every thought you’ve had. Serendipity has shown me all of it.”

Whomever this Serendipity is, Jungkook hopes it didn’t show every single thought he had. After a certain age, they’d gotten rather repetitive and tended to fixate mostly on things below the belt - which is not the image of himself he wants to project into this world.

“You’re thinking too much,” Jimin purrs, tapping his temple lightly.

His hands wind up in Jungkook’s hair, massaging the scalp and down his neck. His touches are flitting, almost shy and it kindles longing in Jungkook like never before. It tramples all of the questions budding in his head. Melting reason away. Before he knows they’re kissing again and it plays out like a dream.

He’s doing something, but he’s not really in control. It feels good. Peaceful, he’s in a safe place. Jimin’s touches are weightless and tender as he maps out his body with the very tips of his fingers.

Like he can reach everywhere - can touch anywhere.

The moment something prods his mind, gentle and soothing - akin to a light breeze caressing the leaves - Jungkook shivers. Falls under. A feeling like no other. Floating, like a little air bubble.

It’s gone as sudden as it came and Jungkook finds himself yearning.

“We can’t do it here,” Jimin says as they both move upright in sync. He grabs Jungkook’s hand. “Let’s go. Serendipity will have to stay here for now.”

“Serendipity?” Jungkook asks, shaking off the drowsiness as his brain slowly kicks back into gear. “You mean that pod thing?”

“Don’t call her ‘a thing’,” Jimin chides. “She has feelings. Quite a temper, too.”

“Damn, a she-pod with feelings”.

They’re standing now with Jimin plastered against his chest and nuzzling his mighty pec. Not awkward at all.

“She’s a ship. The most intelligent ship in the whole galaxy. Completely self-aware,” Jimin says, exploring the vastness of Jungkook’s chest with his curious palms now. Jungkook starts to notice a certain obsession here of a tactile nature, but can’t find it in himself to complain. “Be kind to her.”

“I am kind,” Jungkook says. “I’m like...wait, who are you?”

“I’m Jimin.”

“Okay,” Jungkook nods. “But what kind of Jimin are you? Where did you come from? You’re not with the Joneses here, are you?”

With the burden of rational thinking, Jungkook slumps into a realization that he has questions. And he must ask them.

“No, I’m from space,” Jimin says like it’s not big deal. “We need to go,” he commands, taking charge and dragging Jungkook along.

“Space? Wow,” Jungkook says. “That’s, ah, nice, I guess. Never been myself, what with the radiation and minus fuck-ton degrees, you know. Transportation kinda sucks, too. I don’t know if you’re aware but we’re kinda still in the stone age or whatever, but, ehm...remember when I was lying on top of you, with our private parts perfectly aligned? That was nice too, wanna, ehm, do that again?”

“Here is not safe,” Jimin says and at least, it’s not a no. “Serendipity can hide herself well enough, but it’s a matter of time before he tracks me down. And if that happens, I don’t want him to track me down right next to her.”

“Who’s he?”

“Just a man who never gives up what’s his.”

“You mean, like, ex-boyfriend?” Jungkook asks, swallowing down an annoying spike of jealousy. “Do you even have boyfriends in space?”

“I meant Serendipity, not me,” Jimin says. “And yes, we do have boyfriends up there in space. You don’t have to worry though, he’s been mated for the past five hundred years. He’s that boring.”

Jungkook lets out a low whistle.

“If his mate looks anything like you, that’s understandable.”

#jikook #jikook au #personas au

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

papillionlisse 1/? [gigi x nicky / jan x jackie] - pinkgrapefruit

[ chapter one ]

[harry potter hogwarts/beauxbaton au]

A/N - hey! there was a prompt on aq that i was IN LOVE WITH because I’ve wanted to venture into my second favourite fanfic fandom for months but haven’t seen the need. but hey - this should be fun. Thanks to Meggie for betaing, this should be about 6 chapters but don’t hold me to that <3

Ever since she was seven, in the aftermath of one of the greatest wizarding wars in British history, Gigi has longed to go to Hogwarts. Her uncle (on her magical mother’s side) would tell her stories of his youth running through ever changing corridors - challenging ghosts and stealing food from the kitchens. Her mother would scoff, nose up high as Gigi and her father would lean into the fantastical tales. Her dad was a muggle but he was fascinated nonetheless, one of the few that would lean into the wizarding world as far as he could rather than run screaming. Their family had hidden during the war - Gigi’s mother a part of one of the highest orders of pure blood family that still accepted the marrying of muggles (and hadn’t affiliated themselves with Death Eaters) - and Gigi had been immersed in the Pure Blood culture for a few months. She was tended to by house elves and taught to fly on a broom by her grandpapa who regaled her with his time playing as keeper for Hufflepuff.

When she got her letter she cried. And then she sent a letter to her grandpapa with her old owl Fluffy and a chocolate frog.

She’d sat on that train, knees bouncing the cage that held her new tawny owl Snitch at a rate that had agitated the poor bird so much he was flapping at the top of the cage. A small girl with insane dark curls entered the carriage and immediately removed the cage from her legs.

“You doin’ okay there?” the girl asked with a peppy voice and wide eyes. “I’m Crystal.”

“I’m Gigi,” she responded quietly, overwhelmed with excitement. “Do you want a crisp?”

“Are they salt and vinegar?” Crystal asked and Gigi nodded. “Awesome! Yeah!”

It was the start of a very firm friendship.

Gigi and Crystal entered the great hall with mouths agape. They were funneled in by Hagrid, grouped together with the first years to be sorted and their eyes flitted between the ornate decorations and the hall full of students in black house robes - seated at long tables decorated with banners and flags of the houses; Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin.

“What do you want to be?” whispered Crystal eagerly as she vibrated next to Gigi.

“I don’t mind,” Gigi mused. “None of them are bad.”

“I want to be a Hufflepuff,” Crystal enthused and it made Gigi giggle at her new best friend.

“GOODE, GIGI,” Headmistress McGonagall called from the front of the hall and Gigi skittered up to the front of the room nervously, passing students both older and taller than she. She sat on the stool carefully as the Sorting Hat was placed onto her head. It wriggled uncomfortably for a few seconds, mumbling things Gigi couldn’t quite make out before screeching ‘SLYTHERIN’ at the top of its nonexistent lungs. The green table erupted into cheers as she ran to take a seat on the end, the badge on her uniform transforming into a snake in front of her eyes.

She sat patiently for a few moments as various other girls were called - a Mateo going to Gryffindor and a Liason going to Hufflepuff before Crystal’s name was called.

The young girl sat for only a second before the hat called Hufflepuff and the house cheered in triumph, Crystal giving Gigi a little wave before running to join the sunny yellows of her house.

Once everyone had been sorted, McGonagall tapped her glass to silence the room. “Welcome first years! As you may know, since the Battle of Hogwarts we have taken house unity very seriously. This means that although you are governed by your house’s prefects, earn points for your house and play quidditch in your colours, you will live, work, and eat with whomever you choose. Aside from special occasions - you will function as a unit, not separate groups. Common rooms, while house specific, are open to everyone and your dorms could be anywhere so it’s important that you respect all house prefects because you don’t know whose rule you’ll live under. Be kind to one another - it matters more than you know, and let the feast begin!”

With a final flourish of her wand, the empty tables were full of platters and the once plain ceiling looked to be full of stars.

Gigi’s dorm ended up being in the old Hufflepuff quarters, ever filled with a glowing warmth. She was thrilled to find Crystal lounging on a bed when she entered, two more girls also already having claimed beds - Jan Sport and Jackie Cox. She’d discerned from conversation that Jan was a half-blood like herself and Jackie appeared to be a very clueless Canadian Pure-blood which only made Gigi chuckle as she thought of the confusion on two sides the girl would be facing.

As she lay in bed that night - the room a perfect temperature and the bedspread an emerald green, she’d never felt so at home.

Fast forward to the middle of sixth year and she’s signing up for the Beauxbaton exchange program, egged on by Jan who’s bouncing on her toes, the tote bag slung over her shoulder almost overflowing as Crystal explains the significance of her One Direction stick’n’poke to Jackie who still only has a limited knowledge of muggle music but bless her, she’s trying. Jan smiles to herself as she watches her girlfriend try to understand how the ink is staying under the skin. “C’mon Gigi, write quicker!” Jan whines, “I want to go get waffles before the guys eat them all.” Gigi stifles a laugh knowing that’s the only reason Jan got up before seven today before scribbling her signature at the bottom of the form and transfiguring it into a paper butterfly to be sent up to Headmistress McGonagall’s office without hassle.

They all enter the hall, finding four seats together on the end of an old Gryffindor table - the hall only really sticking to the tables on Quidditch game days and special feasts where house unity can be thrown out of the window and no one wants Slytherin to win another house cup (Gigi doesn’t blame them - she’s the captain and they’ve been damn fantastic these past few years).

Jan’s shovelling waffles into her mouth as Jackie mutters for her to breathe when McGonagal clears her throat and taps her glass bringing the hall to silence.

“As you all might have heard, the Sixth Year Beauxbaton Exchange starts after the holidays. For all who have not heard - today is the last day of sign up. Sixth years who choose to participate will be assigned a partner from Beauxbaton. The partner will come here for our summer term - partaking in their normal NEWT subjects and sharing dorms and generally experiencing life here at Hogwarts. They will take on their partner’s house for all house related activities and will not be eligible for quidditch teams before any of you ask.” She pauses, eyes directed towards Gigi with a smirk making the brunette blush in her seat. “Then, in the winter term our students will visit there - the same rules will apply - before all returning here for our famous Yule Ball just prior to Christmas. This is not a graded event but it will do well for anyone wanting international experience or those considering a mastery at Beauxbaton after their NEWTs. With that, it’s almost nine so you have a few more minutes to devour your eggs before I expect you all in your classes - promptly.” She ends with a smile and a wave indicating the hall can get back to its usual chatter and it does with some immediacy.

“Are you sure you don’t want to do it, Crys?” Gigi asks, pushing a final toast crust around her plate with her fork as the girl opposite her gets crumbs all over the transfiguration essay she’s frantically finishing.

Crystal looks up at Gigi with a raised eyebrow, her unruly curls falling over her face (although they’re quickly fixed back by Jackie who’s particularly proficient at beauty charms). “Baby, if I tried to speak French I’d insult them all.” Crystal chuckles. “I failed year six french, thank god I didn’t have to do high school.” Jan and Gigi chuckle in agreement as Jackie sticks her tongue out, insulting them all in french. She drops a kiss on Jan’s head before leaving for her Ancient Runes class.

“You both in transfiguration next?” Jan asks with mouth full of eggs. Gigi and Crystal nod - Gigi looking much more excited as it’s her favourite subject. Crystal sighs - she wants to be a healer so she’s got a full board of classes from Charms and Transfiguration, which she cannot do to save her life, and Potions and Herbology which are much more her speed. Needless to say she’s grateful for Gigi in spellwork classes.

Jan brushes a few lone crumbs off her robes, grabbing her Beatles themed tote bag and rushing off to Care of Magical Creatures, leaving Crystal and Gigi to walk to Transfiguration together.

“What do you think your girl will be like?” Crystal muses, a finger fiddling with one of her loose ringlets.

“I hope she’s nice…” Gigi replies as if she hasn’t put a lot of thought into it (she has but she’ll deny it to her grave).

“Yeah, and respectful. It takes a lot of respect not to throw a pillow at Janet and Jaqueline some nights,” Crystal jokes and Gigi snorts out a laugh as they arrive at the classroom.

“Alright bitch, are we hoping for an E?”

“If I exceed expectations I will be very happy,” Crystal agrees and they take their seats.

Gigi normally finds the Hogwarts Express relaxing. She’s usually soothed by the feeling of the old steam engine chugging away under her feet. Crystal stuffs as many pumpkin pasties as she can into her trunk and Jan spends the whole ride with her head in Jackie’s lap which would definitely be a hazard if the train happened to brake (it doesn’t, it’s a magic train, but it could).

She’s normally relaxed about now, but she’s going to meet her exchange partner and honestly she’s finding it very hard to be relaxed. Not to mention she has a very new cat (Quaffle) that is currently unimpressed with being in a train carriage and has found a home on Crystal’s lap, begging for attention.

“You doing okay there Gi?” Jackie asks, worried as always. “You’re looking a little pale.” This is a joke of course, Gigi’s pretty sure she’s never been more tanned than alabaster but if her reflection is anything to go by, she’s not looking particularly calm.

“Just nervous,” she admits, batting away the stick of Droobles Bubblegum Crystal tries to offer her - branching out from her usual snack trolley order.

“Big day!” Jan enthuses from her reclined position, Jackie’s fingers tangled in her hair.

“Big day,” Gigi repeats under her breath, trying to channel some of her roommate/best friend’s energy. “Big fucking day.”

“Honestly Crys I’m pretty sure you’re more excited than I am.” Gigi chuckles as they all walk up to the castle together, Jan holding the squirming cat carrier as she’s the only one not phased by the movements.

“If you think about it,” Crystal starts, adjusting her robes as she walks a way akin to a confused badger, “She’s kind of like a family pet. If you get her - we all kinda’ have her. Like a dog.”

Gigi and Jan burst out laughing while Jackie gives a snort that she stifles into an exasperated sigh. “I swear to god Crystal if you refer to the poor woman as a pet while she is here I will disown you.”

Crystal hums nonchalantly at the threat but all of their attention is drawn away by the faint sound of twinkling in the air. They look up out of instinct and coming out of the clouds is a giant, powder blue carriage drawn by Abraxans (large horses with wings). It floats as if weightless and the entire student body stops in awe just to watch it descend onto one of the large fields by Hagrid’s hut.

No doubt they’d all stare for much longer but Professor McGonagall calls from the entrance, requesting them to hurry and put their things away before dinner.

They all enter the dorm with a hubub and Gigi calls the bathroom first, forcing Jackie to charm her hair into one long brown braid that falls over her shoulder. She applies the minimal makeup she knows how to - feeling an urge to impress the girl she is yet to meet before being hurried out of the bathroom by Crystal who is insisting she needs the mirror to do something (none of them are quite sure what).

An additional bed has been added to the dorm between Gigi’s and Crystal’s. While Jan and Crystal’s beds have yellow covers and trimmings, Gigi’s is green and Jackie’s a deep blue - this new bed has a deep purple cover with delicate silver trimmings down the side and Jan appears to be examining it curiously as she braids her silver blonde hair into a messy french plait. They all bide their time, as they wait for Crystal, and once Jackie has rescued whatever hairstyle the dark haired girl was attempting, they head down to the hall.

Despite this being a start-of-term feast, the house restrictions have been lifted for the school so they all find themselves sat in their usual seats at the Gryffindor table, idly waiting for the process to begin. As far as Gigi knows, the Beauxbaton will sit on the same stool they all sat on as first years and the hat will call out the name of their partner - to get a feel for Hogwarts, or so Professor McGonagall said. Then Gigi will have to stand and the girl will join them at the table.

She plays footsie with Crystal under the table through McGonagall’s speech - too nervous to pay much attention (and knowing Jackie will let her know anything important) and then the sorting starts.

The room goes deathly silent except for the sound of the rain on the enchanted ceiling as the first girl is called up. Violet Chachki is paired with Pearl and Gigi finds herself glad as the girl seems intimidating - her dark hair a stark difference from the rest of the blonde, porcelain skinned, part veela girls.

The part-Veela doesn’t worry her. For one she’s not a desperate straight boy clamouring after a perfect French girl and two - she doesn’t really care but she does feel oddly drawn to the girls in blue and she takes a brief second to wonder what would happen if she did get a Veela more interested in women. A smile flits across her face and Jackie rubs a warm hand on her leg.

The next girl - Nicky Doll - is called. She’s blonde, like the rest, and lithe - gorgeous really - and even from where Gigi’s sat, she can tell her eyes are a pearlescent blue. She sits carefully on the stool - managing to make it look like a Vogue shoot rather than a school ceremony. The hat is placed on her head and it dwarfs her petite features - her button nose and her shining eyes and it makes her look almost childlike. Gigi is so focused on this she barely registers the way the hat screams ‘GIGI GOODE’. She’s sure she wouldn’t have if Jackie hadn’t jabbed her wand straight up into her ribs to jumpstart her again.

She stands inelegantly, smiling at the French girl who bounds towards her like Bambi but much more gracefully. It’s like she’s floating along the old cobble floors and then slides into the seat next to Gigi, breathless.

“Nicky Doll, enchanté,” she offers sweetly with her gloved hand outstretched. Gigi takes it gladly and is pleasantly surprised by how warm it is given the general coolness of the castle - even in April. Her shock must show on her face because Nicky gives a soft chuckle “Warming spell.” She shrugs.

“I’m Gigi Goode.” Gigi remembers to introduce herself. “This is Crystal.” The brunette waves jovially while her eyes stay fixed on the continuing ceremony. “Jan.” She waves too. “And Jackie.” Jackie turns for a split second to shake hands before she goes back to watching a girl named Brooke be paired with Vanessa Mateo - the feisty Gryffindor from their potions class.

“Do you know when there will be food?” Nicky asks rather brashly for her demeanor. “I’m starved.”

Gigi laughs softly. “Give it another five minutes and we’ll have a feast,” she jokes quietly and they turn their attention back to the end of McGonagall’s speech - Gigi unable to help getting caught on the feeling of a warm thigh pressed on her own.

Gigi doesn’t think to ask about the bedsheets until they’re getting ready for bed. Jan’s already tucked into Jackie’s bed in her girlfriend’s oversized Holyhead Harpies shirt attempting to read the astrology book that’s peaked the Persian’s fancy.

“I’m surprised you can read, Jan,” muses Crystal while cradling the, now much calmer cat, like a baby. “You’re such a cutie, Quaffle, aren’t you,” she coos at the kitty as Jan pounds the shade button they’d found in the Weasley’s joke shop on Diagon. The snake that comes out makes the cat squirm out of Crystal’s arms onto Nicky’s bed where the blonde picks it up gently. Out of nowhere it calms and curls up on her lap.

“He likes you,” Gigi states plainly and Nicky chuckles, running her fingers through the longhaired tabby’s fur,

“Most cats do I suppose.” Her hair is in loose blonde curls and she’s dressed in a satin blue babydoll which only makes Gigi self conscious about the loose sports bra and shorts she prefers. The dorms are always warm thanks to the old Hufflepuff wards so she’d rather go light than overheat.

Gigi settles herself in her bed, the green covers resting just under her grey bra. She bundles her hair up on top of her head and pulls out the glasses she only wears in the comfort of the dorms. “So tell us about yourself,” she asks as all the girls look to the purple bed. Everyone keeps their curtains open most nights so you can see round the curve of their dorm room through each of the poster beds.

Nicky hums as she thinks, tilting her head to the side in a way that makes her curls spill over her shoulder. “Well, in Beauxbaton I’m in Papillionlisse - and, uh consequently my colours are purple and silver. We are not like any of your houses. Ombrelune is probable to be Slytherin and I would say Bellefeuille is maybe Gryffindor but Papillionlisse is not. We are kind and artististic and idealistic at times.” She smiles softly as if remembering something nice and in the soft dorm lighting Gigi can see freckles on her cheeks.

“Oooh, we’ll have to see what houses we would be sometime!” Jan decides from where she has tucked herself under Jackie’s arm.

Nicky giggles and nods. “Absolutely Janet. Um what else? I do - what are yours called? NEWTS?” Crystal nods and she carries on. “Well I do astronomy, potions, transfiguration, charms, and divination.”

Gigi thinks for a second before she responds, brow furrowed as she mentally figures out logistics. “So you’ll be with me and Crys for transfiguration and charms - although Jackie comes to transfiguration too sometimes. We all do potions together and then astronomy you’ll be with Jackie and divination you’ll be with Jan.” She looks around to check that’s right even though she knows it is.

Between them they cover every subject with Jackie in arithmancy, ancient runes, astronomy, herbology, potions, history of magic, and transfiguration, Jan in care of magical creatures, potions, herbology, and divination, Crystal in potions, herbology, charms, and transfiguration, and Gigi in charms, transfiguration, potions, astronomy, and defence against the dark arts. Muggle studies is mandatory once a fortnight since the wizarding war and they all sit through it for the sake of their academic careers rather than for the joy of it.

“I have a feeling I shall enjoy it here,” Nicky contemplates as she moves Quaffle so that she can lay on her side under the covers.

“I hope so,” Gigi smiles. They fall asleep facing each other.

#rpdr fanfiction #gigi x nicky #gigi goode #nicky doll #jan sport #jackie cox #crystal methyd #harry potter au #post battle of hogwarts #we stan house unity #s12 #jankie #pinkgrapefruit #papillionlisse #crystal has a 1D tattoo even though its the wrong time period for that #useless lesbians #nicky is part veela #gigi names her pets after quidditch balls #come at me bitches

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miraimisu · 4 years

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25, whatever ship you want :D

[writing asks] [part 1]

Parties are loud, and Gladion dislikes loud.

He doesn't like how the music pounds in his ears. He doesn't like how the crowd is so overwhelmingly big that he's getting lightheaded. He doesn't like the stench of alcohol, nor the sheen of sweat developing at the back of his neck.

That thing with shorts and a tanktop and curves dancing on the dancefloor is something he does like, though– maybe a bit too much, at least for his own good.

Moon might be only one of their group with enough guts to go there and dance like she owns the whole place, swaying to the mad rhythm in a sea of people. It's surprising that he hasn't lost sight of her, but it's not like he has much more to do than stare and watch like the sucker he is.

Hau suggested he could join her, before he was pulled to the dancefloor as well.

He has a point, but Gladion isn't about to admit that now, not when watching Moon is enough and he doesn't have to join her and he can imagine she's the only one dancing in the pub–

"Hey, blondie."

Gladion turns his head to a girl. Long wavy hair flowing around her seamlessly. Perfect make-up, short clothes and a cup on her hand. Blue eyes that sparkle under the disco lights.

He takes a sip of his drink and acknowledges her with a curt nod of his head. He hopes that will be enough to tell her he's not interested. After all, it's worked before.

Not this time.

"A guy as pretty as you shouldn't be alone in a party like this," she drawls out, dragging a finger up and down his arm. It puts Gladion off. "Don't you wanna dance?"

He looks away when she steps closer. "No, thanks."

"Aw, why? You don't have a girlfriend, do you?"

His eyes drift to the dancefloor, where he spots his jackpot within seconds– and she's looking at him, too. Her body keeps swaying, she keeps spinning and moving, but her eyes are fixed on him like a magnet– except she looks away the moment their eyes lock, and a flicker of smugness growing within Gladion.

Looks like he's not the only one with only one target in mind. It relieves him, almost. But then, he remembers the very persistent girl standing beside him.

He's tempted to play along, see what reaction he'd get out of Moon– but that would be a tad too petty.

The girl smirks. "So… no girlfriend?"

Gladion shrugs and takes a hard sip of his drink. "Depends on what you define as a girlfriend."

She flicks her hair over her shoulder with a brilliantly arrogant smile, the kind that would have interested Gladion before he met his friends and Moon. She steps right in front of him, and Gladion makes no attempt to move away– he knows she'll chase after, and he's admittedly curious about what she could want.

Her fingertips settle on his collarbone.

"We could have a good time," she purrs, very close to his ear. "I know a nice place we could go on a ride for. We can ditch this place and… you know, have some fun. I'll give you something to remember."

He hates this. The touching, the intimate proximity, how this girl is just too close; he's never dealt well with these things. Why did he even agree to coming here? He could have stayed in his bedroom back in the resort, reading a book or playing with Silvally.

Gladion looks for a source of escape, anxiously seeking Hau or Lillie out. But in the middle of the dancefloor, he spots Moon looking at him, and for a split second, she looks confused– but someone approaches her from behind, a man with broad shoulders, and he can hear her squeaking from here.

The girl before him taps his shoulder. "Hey, are you listening to me? What's your problem?"

He has a lot of problems, chief among which being that he can see the guy grabbing Moon's hips from behind, and she's gone from observing him to having fun again, and he can only wonder if she's trying to tick him off like he was tempted to do earlier.

Moon cranes her head towards him and shoots him a playful wink– and that's about enough for him.

His grip on his glass tightens. Gladion gently pushes the girl off and drowns the rest of his drink in one gulp that leaves him dizzy for two good seconds.

"I have somewhere to be. Go look for a hookup elsewhere."

He hears the girl screech after him, but the noise is lost to the crowd he wades through. It reeks of alcohol and fun in here, exactly the two things he's bad at. He bumps into backs, arms, hands and dodges a drink by a hair's worth.

And when he reaches the center of the dancefloor, he's met with Moon, Lillie and Hau, swaying to the rhythm. Hau has his hands on Lillie, more protective than touchy, and Moon's hands are busy on another guy's chest, singing the words to a song Gladion can't hear through the pumping of blood in his ears.

All at once, he grabs one of Moon's hands and swivels her to his side, shooting the touchy guy a murderous glare before turning to Moon, who is grinning like she knew she'd get that reaction out of him.

So he does the only thing he knows: drag her away by the hand, careful to avoid the spot where he left the girl from earlier.

The second they bust into the night, he takes a big mouthful of air, letting go of Moon as she fans herself. The music from the pub rumbles outside like an underwater echo.

She chuckles mischievously. "Someone got upset really quick. Didn't you say you could deal with it?"

"Deal with what, exactly?" He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and looks away. "With the loud music? The stench of alcohol? Those overly bright lights? How touchy everyone is?"

Moon smiles, hiding her hands behind herself with a snicker. "So you really are upset. I never thought you could lose your cool so quickly. You said parties were for babies."

"I didn't–"

"And when Hau mentioned you could stay back, you said you weren't a quitter."

"What does that–"

"And when Lillie said that the music would be too loud, you said you could handle it just fine–"

"That's not why I'm pissed off, okay?"

Far from impressed, Moon folds her arms, an eyebrow arched in amusement. "Were you really angry that a guy was dancing with me?"

His eyes narrow. The truth is too shameful to admit, even if it's burning at the tip of his tongue. His body swells, wanting to get it out, but he ends up looking away, trying not to look bothered. "Not at all. Why would I be? We agreed this- we- that we weren't looking for anything, didn't we?"

Moon has a similar reaction to his, surprisingly. Her whole expression compresses and she looks away to the Alolan sea beyond the city, frowning with a proud expression. "E-Exactly. We can do whatever we want."

"Yeah..."

"With whomever we want."

"R-Right."

Moon's eyes flicker back to him. He doesn't miss how she's playing with the short sleeves of her shirt. "S-So you weren't bothered at all?"

"I– I already said I wasn't," Gladion insists, praying that the night will hide the blush in his cheeks. Moon lets out a little noise, the little one she'd make when she's unhappy. "Why are you asking? Do you think I didn't see you staring at me when I had that girl all over me?"

Her eyes widen, and an outrageously noticeable blush tints her cheeks, making him smirk. She backs away, pointing a finger at him. "I saw you staring too, don't think I'm an idiot! Did you think you could make me jealous with that girl? That's pathetic."

She knows him too well. His arrogance dissipates immediately. "I wasn't even trying to. Is that why you were dancing with that guy, to make me jealous?"

Deep inside, he's looking for a yes. He's looking for that inexplicable possession he has inside for her, but reflected right in her. Gladion wants to know if whatever these feelings are could be remotely reciprocated, because he's past denying he doesn't feel anything for her anymore.

However, it's easier to be quiet than to confront her with the truth when they have such a convenient pact that isn't that convenient anymore, apparently.

Moon huffs, turning away from him.

"W-Well, not at all, but you really deserved it as payback."

"Payback for what?"

The words escape him before he can stop them, and it leaves them soaking in a very heavy silence. He's sure both know the truth: they were jealous, but he can't be so sure when she will step away from talking about their relationship all the damn time– not like he's any better, anyway.

So they're stuck in this limbo of knowing too much but speaking too little, where they can't be with anyone else but not with each other, either.

He's already said he wasn't trying to make her jealous, and he knows Moon is too prideful to admit she was just as petty as he wanted to be back there.

She sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. All the vitality and spring that's surrounded her all night is suddenly gone. "I'm going back."

"Back where?"

"To my bedroom," she says as she brushes past him. "I don't really feel like dancing anymore."

Unlike the Champion she is, she drags her feet out of Heahea city and towards the resort, and as tempted as he is to seek resolution and talk things out, all he can do is bite his tongue until he bleeds and follow her– he's never felt like dancing anyway.

—

They walk into the empty hotel in silence, and the ride up the elevator is awkward.

In an ideal night, he would have had enough tolerance to walk into the dancefloor and dance the night away with her and his friends. He would have had fun, no touchy girls would have triggered a silly game between them. Maybe the ride that's now stiff and cold would have been filled with kisses and longing touches, but none of the sort seems to be going to happen.

When they reach their floor, Moon high tails it to her door, only two rooms away from his. She stands there, looking at her card and her door as Gladion contemplates the worth of talking to her and apologizing for being so impossible.

He sighs, deeming it to be not worth it now, and looks for his card in his pocket.

"I don't… wanna be like this."

He turns to Moon, who is fidgeting with her card as she approaches him, smaller than he's ever seen her. A delicate tendril of fear tickles his spine. "Like what?"

"Not talking to each other," she sighs, finally looking up at him. "When we agreed to this, I told you I wanted us to still be friends over anything else. I'd rather we stopped being… this before we end up never talking to one another ever again."

Gladion sighs, too. "I doubt that would ever happen– but do you want us to, um, stop?"

Moon turns her head to the wall, embarrassed as can be. "Do you?"

He folds his arms, playing with the card to his room between his fingers. "Not exactly, but– but I don't like it when I don't know what you're feeling."

"We said no–"

"No feelings, I know," he stresses, combing through his fringe to hide his blush with gritted teeth. "B-But I don't know what you want from me, and I don't know what I can want from you, either."

Moon tenses up, much like a Skarmory surrounded by Glalie, and stays silent. They stare at one another, clueless as to how to continue. Neither can have what they want unless they speak up, but Gladion knows that if he tells her he wants more out of this deal, she'll back out, because she was the one who put the no feelings rule.

He should have backed out of it before he knew what it was like to kiss her, to tease her, to sleep with her.

Gladion squares his jaw and turns around. He grabs his room card, slides it across the lock; when the lock doesn't open, he slides it again with a groan, then another–

Suddenly, Moon's arms wrap around his middle, startling him. Her face burrows in his back, hands tightly entwined over his belly.

"I… I want you to be mine."

He swears his mind breaks, and he needs a second to make sure he heard that right.

"You… what?"

She pushes harder against him, hugging him tighter. "I don't like it when I see other girls flirting with you, okay? I hate it. I'm scared someone's gonna snatch you away when I'd like to be in that place instead. I don't wanna let you go, e-even if we kind of agreed this wasn't anything serious."

Air leaves his body, and in the silence that ensues, Moon's fingers bunch the front of his shirt. He hopes she can't hear the pounding of his heart, the little shaky smile threatening to break his persona to pieces–

Instead, he grabs her arm and swerves her against the door of his room, kissing her fervently. She sighs, tangling her hands into his hair and wrapping her legs around his hips tight. He holds her tight and enthusiastically, sneaking his fingers past the hem of her shorts and nipping her lip as they kiss messily, aimlessly. She tugs at his hair, tilting his head to kiss him deeper, and the way she handles him makes his stomach twist in the best of ways.

Their tongues meet, growing more desperate and more needy with each brush, every touch, and the little moans he's pulling out of her make him pull away before someone discovers them like this.

But she pulls him back in, looping her arms around his neck and evidently unwilling to let him go. With a growl, he decisively pushes his card past the lock again, and when the light shines green, he fumbles with the knob to let them past his door.

Gladion slams the door close, pushing her against it, and she whimpers in response, peppering his neck with kisses that take his breath away. He touches her skin, relishes in how warm she is, and softly moans in relief when her hands sneak past the divide of his shirt, working on undoing the buttons.

He peels her off the door, stumbles towards his bed and dumps her there unceremoniously before undoing the last of his buttons and discarding his shirt. They hurriedly kick off their shoes. He climbs onto the bed and kisses her again, digging his fingers into her hair and looking for the clasp of her bra blindly.

He can see himself falling from stoic grace and decides he'll enjoy every second of it.

They have made out before. They have made love had sex before.

And yet, tonight feels a lot more important and earnest than before. Like they're walking into something new, soft and lovely. Moon gently pushes him away, panting. Breathing ragged, he presses his forehead against hers. When he looks into her eyes, he knows he's doomed. "I'm not good with sharing."

A little dazed, she blinks. "Huh?"

"I don't want to share you with anyone else," he admits a little hoarsely. "You– You're mine. And I don't want to share. I– I refuse to share. I just can't. Not anymore."

Before she can reply, he lowers his lips to her neck, sucking a mark on right below her jaw, a spot he knows she likes. Moon cries with gusto, digging her nails into his bare back, as though she knows he likes the marks.

It helps him remember she wants him just as much as he wants her.

When he pulls away, smirking, he finds her to be swimming in palpable and delightful lust. He's been in this situation with her a couple of times already during their vacation, and he has the gut feeling he'll never get tired of seeing her like this.

With a delicate sigh, he leans down again, kissing her softly. "You're mine," he whispers between kisses, caressing the milky skin under her shirt. He feels the heave of her chest, hears the breathless little mewls rolling out of her. "I don't share. You're mine now."

Chuckling, she grabs his cheeks with a smile. The sight makes his whole being warm up with sheer affection for her. "Then you're mine, too. Only mine. I'm not sharing."

"Don't worry," he whispers against her lips, kissing her again. "I'm not leaving anytime soon."

When her lips are swollen and her breath is ragged again, he descends to the sweet spot of her neck, gently making his way down to her collarbone. He peppers her skin with kisses as he carefully works on the buttons of her shorts, looking at her in askance, seeking permission.

Moon drags her nails down his chest. "Take them off."

So he does.

#ask #lonashipping #gladimoon #pokemon #heavily T rated #it's not M rated because yours truly had no time LMAO #outing myself with the thirst ngl #these requests are gonna be an onslaught of dirt #not that kind of dirty #the ;)) dirt #featuring jealousy #which I've never written before #not to this steamy extent at least LMAO #but just have the kids trying to be sneaky until it ends a little sour until it DOESN'T #JUST ENJOY TEXTY <333

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